“He says he likes to talk to an actor’s agent.”
“Well—Did he say what time? How about three? You can go in with me and sort of break the ice.”
“What ice? Isn’t he a great friend of yours?”
“A pal, Joe, a pal. I haven’t been seeing much of Vic lately....” There was a moment of silence. “Make it three o’clock sharp.”
Joe Carlin walked into the office of Vic Wylie Productions at half-past two. The door to the inner office was closed. Behind that door a voice was lifted momentarily in audible protest. Joe swung around to Miss Robb.
“Carver?” he demanded.
The stenographer said: “Ambrose Carver. Know him?”
“He’s my agent.”
“I can tell him you’re here.”
“I’ll wait,” said Joe.