Peter gulped; but plunged on. “I'll tell you what you do, Zanin. Get another man—a littler producer than Silverstone—and have him supply studio, operators, and all the plant necessary, on a partnership basis, you to put in some part of the cash needed.”
“Great!” said Zanin. “Fine! And where's the cash to come from?”
“From me.”
The front legs of Zanin's chair came to the floor with a bang.
“This is new stuff, Mann.”
“New stuff. I'm not rich, but I believe you've got a big thing here, and I stand willing to put up a few thousand on a private contract with you. This can be just between ourselves. All I ask is a reasonable control of the expenditure.”
Zanin thought—and thought. Peter could see the shifting lights in his cold clear eyes.
He moved over to the window and stared out into the area-way, where electric lamps and gas flames twinkled from a hundred other rear buildings. He came back to his chair and lit a cigarette.
“You're on!” he finally said. “If you want to know, I am worried about Silverstone. And I'm certainly in no position to turn down such an offer as this.”
Which was the genesis of The Nature Film Producing Co., Inc., Jacob Zanin, Pres't. They talked late, these new partners.