“‘Hold on,’ I put in, ‘I don’t want to take advantage of a competitor. Fair and square, Carrington. If you want the film, bid for it.’
“‘Of course I’ll bid for it,’ boasted Peter. ‘I’ll give a hundred and five.’
“‘And ten,’ I said quietly.
“‘Fifteen.’
“‘And twenty,’ I added.
“‘Sho!’ said Peter, flipping over the bills in his hand. I haven’t much more ready cash here with me.‘
“‘I’ll loan you on your check,’ I told him and the bluff took. I had only the hundred and fifty you gave me, but I was nervy, and it beat Peter. I fancy Jack Beavers had set a limit, or the real money wasn’t flush at the National; anyhow with a snarl and a scowl Peter gritted his teeth at both of us and decamped.”
Late as the hour was the motion picture chums were so interested in the new film that they had to give it a trial run. It was all the lurid advertising claimed for it from start to finish, and it took thirty-five minutes to run it—the scenes depicted held the interest.
“It’s well worth the money,” declared Ben Jolly enthusiastically. “Now then, to exploit it to the limit.”
The transparency frame built for the National remained in place, but its muslin covering did not contain the announcement expected by Peter and his satellites. Even Hal Vincent, well as he knew Jack Beavers, was greatly surprised when he was told the next day that the space was devoted to booming a recent sparring match.