This staggered Peter. He stood thinking deeply. Then he looked Pep over and seemed to be studying something.
“See here,” he said with a half-cunning expression in his face, “I suppose you know a heap about the movies?”
“Oh, tolerable, tolerable,” responded Pep, who did indeed think so.
“And you remember Greg Grayson, of Fairlands?”
“I have a perfectly clear memory of Mr. Gregory Grayson,” answered Pep, his nostrils dilating, but Peter was too obtuse to read between the lines.
“Well, I’ve got an idea,” chuckled Peter. “Anybody has a right to start a movies show; haven’t they?”
“If they want to, I suppose.”
“Well, since I can’t make a deal with that Durham, I’m going it on my own hook. I can raise the money; Greg’s father is rich and he can help. All we need is someone who knows the practical end of the business. Say, you come in with us and I’ll give you double what you expect to make with those fellows there.”
Pep doubled up a fist. He was angry clear through. At a mere hint of disloyalty to his famous friends he took fire. He gave Peter a push.
“You get out!” he ordered staunchly.