Mr. Percy Garrick Smithers, actor, finding the path to fame less smooth on the legitimate stage than he believed it to be by the Cinema route, went to a producer of film plays and offered his services.
"Yes," said the producer, "I might possibly give you lead in a big sensational I am about to put up. Are you a good pugilist?"
"I have indulged a little in the pastime of sparring," answered Percy.
"Good," said the producer. "You see, the picture opens with Bill Bloodred, the champion prize-fighter, demanding certain documents from his aged uncle. As the latter won't surrender the papers. Bill gives him a swinging blow to the jaw, a few more heavy ones to various other parts of the body, and then proceeds to kick the old man to death as the latter lies helpless on the floor. It's one of those thrilling scenes the juveniles like so much! Then you come in and tackle Bill."
"Quite so," said Percy.
"A terrific fight ensues. Bill surpasses anything he has ever done in the ring, and it goes on until at last you collapse. Bill escapes, leaving you for dead. Do you catch the idea?"
"Pretty well," said Percy.
"Now Bill goes straight away to the police office and states that you have murdered his uncle. When you come to, you are surrounded by about twenty members of the police force, the chief of whom slips the handcuffs over your wrists. With one wrench you snap the chain and are free!"
"With one wrench?" asked Percy, to be sure he was getting the details correctly.