'He's too kind-hearted to go shooting up one of the Public Enemies that's higher on the list, though he knows that if he does that'll make him Public Enemy Number Twelve. ...'
'I see it as a Lionel Barrymore part,' said Eddie.
'Warner Baxter’ said Fred.
'Bill Powell,' said George curtly, putting them both in their places. 'So he gets an idea for pulling a play that'll put the Government wise to how good he is, so's maybe they might even promote him to Number One or Two, and here's the idea. Him and his gang get on a liner that's carrying a lot of gold across to the other side, and they hold up the captain and the officers and take charge of the ship and steer for the coast of South America, and when they're there they're going to blow the boat up and escape into the interior with the gold. See?'
I didn't want to damp the chap, but I had to point out a flaw. I mean, after all, that's what these story conferences are for.
'I don't think you need be discouraged,' I said. 'I can see you've got an idea. But you haven't worked it out.' George bridled.
'How do you mean? What's wrong with that ship sequence?'
'You get your comedy there,' said Eddie. 'You'd make the captain a comedy type. I see Charles Butterworth.'
'Joe Cawthorne,' said Fred.
'Edward Everett Horton,' said George.
'Where's your love interest?' I asked quietly.
The question plainly rattled them. George scratched his chin, Eddie and Fred their left cheek and head respectively.
'Love interest?' said George. He brightened. 'Well, how does this strike you? Coast of South America, girl swimming out to the anchored ship. The air is heavy with the exotic perfume of the tropics ...'
'Flamingoes,' suggested Eddie deferentially.
'Sure,' said George. 'Flamingoes. The air is heavy with the exotic scent of the tropics and a cloud of pink flamingoes drifts lazily across the sky, and there's this here now prac'lly naked girl swimming out to —'
I shook my head.
'Too late,' I said. 'By the time you get to South America, you're in your fourth reel.' George banged die table.
'Well, hell,' he said, 'never mind about the love in- terest '
'You've got to have the heart-throb,' I insisted. 'No, you haven't, not if your story's strong enough. Look at All Quiet on the Western Front.' 'Yeah,' said Eddie. 'And Skippy.'
'Yeah,' said Fred. 'And The Lost Patrol. How much do you think that one grossed?'
'I still maintain that you must have a love interest.'
'Don't you worry about love interest,' said George. 'Let's get on to where you blow in. These gangsters scuttle the ship - see - and they get off in the boat - see - same as in Mutiny on the Bounty - see - and, well, sir —'
'Well, sir —' said Eddie.
'Well, sir,' said George, 'supposing that in this boat there's a little bit of a golden-haired boy - cute ..." 'Ah,' said Fred.
'Get the idea?' said George, rising. 'Is that good, or is it good? Hey, Fred, Eddie, come on over here. Squat down on this rug. Lookut, kid. The rug's the boat, and there's nobody in it but just the gangsters and you. See? And they fall for you.'
'They love you,' said Eddie.
'Ah,' said Fred.
'That's what they do,' said George. 'They love you. And there's only just so much food and water, so the gangsters push each other overboard so's you will have enough ...'
'Until —' said Eddie.
'There's only —' said Fred.
'Until,' said George, 'there's only you and Public
Enemy Number Thirteen left.' 'And get this, kid,' said Eddie. 'Who —' 'Yes, get this, kid,' said Fred. 'Who do you think —' 'Yes, tilt up your ears for the big smash, kid,' said
George. 'Who do you think Public Enemy Number Thirteen turns out to be? Just your long-lost father. That's all. Nothing but that. Maybe that ain't a smacko? There's a locket you're wearing round your neck - see —'
'And this bozo takes a slant at it while you're asleep -see —'
'And,' said George, 'it's yessir sure enough the picture of the dead wife he loved...'
At this point I interrupted the story conference.
'Hands up!' I cried, pointing the pistol which George, the silly juggins, had left lying by his cup. 'Hands up, you frightful bounders!'
Chapter 25
I DON'T know when I've seen three bearded blokes so thoroughly taken aback. And I wasn't surprised. I don't know much about kidnappers, but I imagine it can't be often that they have their victim turning round on them and putting them on the spot like this. To George, Eddie, and Fred, you could see that this had come as a totally new experience. They scrambled to their feet and stood gaping.
Fred was the first to speak.
'Hey!' he cried. 'Be careful what you're doing with that gat!'
'Didn't your mother teach you it's dangerous to point guns at people?' asked Eddie, a bit severely.
And George wanted to know if this was any way to act. Was that, he demanded, a system?
All this shook me a good deal, of course. I found it hard to meet their reproachful eyes. A minute before, I mean to say, we had been all pals together, and I could not deny that I was bursting with their pancakes. In a way, it was a bit as if the guest of honour at a civic banquet had risen in his place and started throwing plates. One felt the same sense of social strain.
But I crushed down the momentary weakness and was firm again.
'I don't care,' I said. 'You shouldn't have kidnapped me. It's a dashed low trick, kidnapping people. Ask anybody.' They seemed stunned. George particularly. 'But wasn't you told?' he said. 'Told what?'
'Wised up, George means,' explained Eddie. 'Wised up that this was all sim'ly a publicity stunt.' ‘What!'
'One of those press gags’ said George. 'The lady came to us —' 'What lady?'
'We never got her name, but she says: "I'm representing this big star —" see —' 'What big star?'
'We never got her name, either. But it seems where the lady that come to us is the press agent for some big star and she wants us to snatch you - see - and hide you away somewheres - see - and then just as all the mothers in America is running around in circles and saying: "Oh, Hell I Can no one save our darling boy?" this big star's going to come along and rescue you - see - and that'll put her on the front page.'
I smiled a cynical smile. I wasn't going to swallow bilge like that. I may be an ass, but I'm not a silly ass.
'Ha!' I said. 'A likely story!'
'It's true,' insisted Eddie. 'See that's wet, see that's dry...' I smiled again. 'Perfect rot, my dear chap.' 'But —'
'If this was just a press stunt, why didn't you simply ask me in a quiet and civil manner to come along with you, instead of soaking me to the gills in your beastly chloroform?'
George looked at Fred reproachfully.
'There! You see!'
Eddie looked at Fred reproachfully, too. 'You see! There!'
'I knew that chloroform of yours would get us into trouble,' said George.
Fred's beard drooped. You could see he felt his position acutely. He muttered something about technique.
'I don't believe a single dashed word,' I said. 'You talk about this press agent and you don't know her name, and you talk about this star and you don't know her name either. I never heard anything so bally thin in my life.
No,' I said, summing up, 'what the thing boils down to is this - you're simply a lot of low twerps who kidnapped me in order to cash in, and you can jolly well march out of this room into the cellar, if you've got a cellar, after which I shall telephone to the constabulary and lodge a complaint.'
This got in amongst them. It isn't easy to be sure, when fellows are bearded to the eyebrows, but I rather think they blenched.
'No, say, don't do that,' urged George.
'You wouldn't do that,' pleaded Eddie.
'Yes, I would,' I said. 'And I'm dashed well going to.'
'What, after all those pancakes?' said George.
'Panc
akes have nothing to do with it,' I snapped testily, for I knew that I was on thin ice there. I could see that, in a sense, I was outraging the sacred laws of hospitality, which, as everyone knows, is a rotten sort of thing to do, and, if persisted in, gets one cut by the County. I changed my mind about telephoning the police. I preserved unimpaired the austerity of my demeanour, but inwardly I decided that after I had shut them up in the cellar I would just go off and call it a day.
Not being able to read my thoughts, however, these blighters continued to be in a twitter.
'Gee! 'said Eddie.
'Gosh!' said Fred.
'If he does phone the cops,' said George, 'you know what will happen?' 'Gosh!' said Fred. 'Gee!' said Eddie.
'I'll tell you what'll happen,' said George. 'We'll be left to take the rap. The dame that hired us - see - is going to swear she never did no such thing - see - and then where'll we be? In the cooler, facing a kidnapping charge.'
'Gee!' said Fred.
'Gosh!' said Eddie.
They paused a while in thought.
'Seems to me,' said George, 'one of us had best rush him and get that gun away.'
'That's right,' said Fred. 'You rush him, Eddie.'
'You rush him, George,' said Eddie.
'You rush him, Fred,' said George. 'Or, listen, we'll do it perfectly fair, so's there won't be any complaints. We'll count out. Eeeny, meeny, miney, mo, catch a nigger by the toe, tiddly-iddly-umpty-whatever-it-is ... You're it, Fred.'
'Snap into it, Fred,' said Eddie.
'Yes, no sense in wasting time,' said George. 'Make one of those quick springs of yours.' 'Like a leopard,' said Eddie. 'Yes, say, I know, but listen,' said Fred. At this tense moment a voice spoke. 'What is all this?'
April June was standing in the doorway.
Chapter 26
IT was a nasty shock. I think if I hadn't been so full of pancakes, I should have tottered. I decided to take a firm line from the start.
'Stand back, woman,' I cried. 'I am armed!'
Her agitation seemed to equal mine.
'You little bonehead,' she said feverishly, 'what do you think you're doing? Haven't you any sense? At any moment my press agent will be here with the reporters and camera men, and what sort of a rescue party is it going to be if they find you carrying on in this way? And haven't you any sense?' she proceeded, turning to George and Eddie and Fred with gleaming eyes. 'My press agent tells me that she explained most carefully exactly what you were to do, and here you are, simply fooling about. The reporters aren't supposed to find you romping with the child. He ought to be tied to a chair and you ought to be menacing him with threats. The first thing the camera men will want is a shot of him tied up and you menacing him with threats and me standing there with the gun?'
'But, lady,' said George. 'Pardon me, lady, are you the lady the lady said was the lady she was press agent for? The big star?'
'Of course I am, you poor fish.'
'Pleased to meet you, lady.'
'Never mind about being pleased to meet me—'
'Say, it's April June,' said Eddie.
'That's right,' said Fred.
'Of course I'm April June.'
'Listen, George,' said Eddie. 'What was that story we were doping out couple days ago - the one you said would be a natural for Miss June?' 'You remember, George,' said Fred. The one about —' 'Why, sure,' said George. 'Listen, lady, if you've a
minute to spare, I'd like to approach you on a little scenario me and the boys have sort of thrown roughly together. It's where this big business man has a beautiful secretary —'
April June stamped what, if I hadn't felt it on my trouser seat, I would have called a dainty foot.
'I don't want to hear any stories. I want to know why you haven't tied him up.'
George waggled his beard apologetically.
'We hadn't the heart, lady.'
'Not,' added Eddie, 'while he was eating pancakes.' 'We was aiming to get around to it later,' said Fred. 'And then,' explained George, 'we got to mulling over a story sequence —' April stamped again.
'And now you've probably ruined the whole thing. Tie him up, quick. Hurry. Even now it may be too late.'
'But, lady, that Roscoe he's got is loaded.'
'What on earth did you want with a loaded gun?'
'That's Fred,' said Eddie, directing another reproachful glance at him. 'He's so thorough.'
'He likes doing things right,' said George.
'I'm an artist,' said Fred defiantly. 'I saw that gun as loaded. That's how I felt it - felt it here' he said, slap ping his chest.
'The fact of the whole matter is,' said George, 'Fred's never been the same man since he was an extra in Lepers of Broadway.'
April June turned on me with a look which in its way was almost as bad as a paper-knife. 'Give me that gun 1'
I hesitated. I wanted to be very sure of my facts before I did anything drastic.
'Is it true,' I asked, 'what these birds were saying? This is simply a publicity stunt?'
'Of course it is. Haven't you had it explained to you over and over again? Miss Bannister told me she had thoroughly coached you and that you understood.'
'By Jove, yes, of course,' I said. I saw the whole thing now. This was the meaning of all those occasional observations which I had found cryptic. You remember. When Ann had said about my having a busy day to-morrow and all that, and when the kid Cooley had mentioned something about putting me wise.
'All the papers were notified last night that you had been kidnapped....'
Of course, yes. That was why Ann had been so sure that all my crimes in the matter of frogs and statues would be forgotten next day.
'... And this morning I am to find you and rescue you. Give me that gun and get yourself tied up, quick. I hear the car.'
And yet, in spite of everything, I still hesitated. It was all very well for her to tell me to get myself tied up, but how was I to be certain that this was not a ruse? I knew what a formidable adversary this woman was, even when one had full possession of one's limbs and was in a position to dodge. To expose myself to her fury in a tied-up condition might quite easily be simply asking for it. I didn't want another of those unilateral infractions of hers.
This tense meditation caused me to relax my vigilance. I lowered the weapon, and the next moment the squad of beavers were on me. I was assisted to a chair, and ropes were coiled around me. Footsteps sounded outside. April secured the gun. The beavers raised their hands and registered alarm.
'Move a step and I shoot, you scoundrels!' cried April. And so saying, she cocked an expectant eye at the door. But it was not a gaggle of reporters and camera men who entered. Simply Ann Bannister by herself.
A bit of an anti-climax, what? I thought so, and I could see that April June thought so, too. I mean to say, rather like somebody in a comic opera saying 'Hurrah, girls, here comes the royal bodyguard!' and one drummer-boy entering left.
April stood there with her eyes swivelling round in their sockets. 'Where are the reporters?' she cried. 'I haven't brought them,' said Ann shortly. 'And the camera men?' 'I haven't brought them.'
'Not brought them?' I don't say April was foaming at the mouth, but it was a near thing. 'What do you mean, you haven't brought them? Great heavens!' she cried, registering about six mixed emotions. 'Don't I get any co-operation?'
The beavers looked at one another.
'No reporters, lady?' said George, pursing his lips.
'No camera men, lady?' said Fred and Eddie, raising their eyebrows.
'No,' said Ann. 'Not one. And if you will give me a moment to explain, I will tell you why not. It's no use going on with this thing. It's cold.'
'Cold?’
'Cold,' said Ann. 'There's not a cent's worth of publicity in rescuing Joey Cooley now. The poor kid's name is mud and his screen career finished.'
'What!'
'Yes. You have a Sunday paper there. Haven't you seen? On the front page?'
'We've only re
ad the movie section and the funnies,' said George.
'Oh? Well, take a look at it now. You are an old chump, Joseph,' said Ann, eyeing me commiseratingly. 'Why on earth did you want to go and be funny with a female interviewer? I told you your sense of comedy would get you in trouble some day. You didn't expect her to know you were kidding, did you? And do you think the fans will believe you said it just for a laugh? I'm afraid you'll never be able to live this down. There is a photograph on the front page of the Los Angeles Chronicle,' she said, turning to April, 'showing Joey Cooley smoking a cigarette with a highball in his hand. In the accompanying letter-press he states that he is twenty-seven years old and prefers a pipe.'
April snatched up the paper and began to read. George looked at Eddie. Eddie looked at Fred.
'Seems to me, boys,' said George, 'the deal's off.' 'Ah,' said Fred. Eddie nodded briefly. 'No sale,' he said.
'Nothing to keep us here now,' said George. 'If we hurry, we'll just be in time for church.' 'Ah,' said Fred. 'Ah,' said Eddie.
They shook their heads at me reproachfully, removed their beards, put them away in a cupboard, and taking prayer-books from this cupboard, withdrew in what I thought rather a marked manner.
Ann turned to me, angelically sympathetic.
'Poor old Joseph!' she said. 'It's your old weakness -anything for a laugh. And it must have been funny, too. But I'm afraid you've done for yourself. American Motherhood will never forgive this. As a matter of fact, when I left, there were six hundred Michigan Mothers gathered outside Mr Brinkmeyer's house, calling on him to bring you out so they could tar and feather you, and demanding that he pay their expenses to and from Detroit. So I'm afraid —'
There was a sort of low, whistling sound, like an east wind blowing through the crannies of a haunted house. It was April June drawing in her breath.
'Not a word about me in the whole interview from beginning to end,' she said, in a strange, hard, quiet voice that suggested the first whisper of a tornado or cyclone. 'Not - one – word! Not so much as a single, solitary, blanked, by-golly syllable. My interview I' she proceeded, her voice gathering volume. 'My private and personal interview. My individual and exclusive interview, and this little bohunkus wriggles in and hogs the whole shooting-match! Let me get at him!'