“But the pictures?”
“They will be taken under my direction.”
“And Silverstone?”
“Silverstone is out. I control the company.” He closed his eyes again and breathed slowly and evenly in a deliberate effort to calm his tumultuous nerves. “Well!” said Hy, big-eyed. “Well!”
“Something to drink, Hy,” Peter murmured. “I put it over, Hy! I put it over!” He said this with a little more vigor, trying to talk down certain sudden misgivings regarding six thin little books with pasteboard covers that lay at the moment in the middle drawer of the desk, next the wall.
Hy got slowly to his feet; stood rubbing his head and staring down in complete admiration at the apparently triumphant if unmistakably exhausted Peter.
“It's a queer time for them,” Hy remarked, solemn himself now. “But in this case cocktails are certainly indicated.”
He picked up the telephone. “John,” he said to the night man below, “some ice!”
Then he shuffled to the closet, struck a match and found the shaker.
In the amber fluid they pledged the success of The Nature Film Producing Co., Inc., these Seventh-Story Men! Dwelling, the while, each in his own thoughts, on the essential nobility of sacrificing one's self to save another.