“Dad and Rexler are having trouble over the story for the new air picture,” said Helen. “I heard him talking with mother just last night. They can’t agree on the final version. Dad was going over it last night.”
“I’d like to read it,” said Janet.
“I’ll get it for you if he brings it home tonight.”
That night Janet had her chance to scan the script of Henry Thorne’s next picture. The tentative title was “Kings of the Air.” The action was fast and stirring, the panorama of the story covering the entire transcontinental route of one air mail system and Janet could understand that there was material here for a really great picture. But there was something lacking—a crashing climax that would make the spectators grip their seats.
Henry Thorne, watching Janet as she laid the script aside, spoke quietly.
“If you can suggest a suitable climax you can just about name your own ticket on our lot,” he said.
“How about a race for a contract?” suggested Helen.
“Too old; it’s worn out.”
“Then why not have the plane going through with valuable papers which are needed for say,” Janet paused, “a naval conference at Washington, on the outcome of which may hinge the fate of the world.”
Henry Thorne started to reject the idea, but halted. “Where did you get that idea?”