"How would you like to be a actor?" says Alex.

"Nothin' doin'!" says Delancey. "I got a steady job and I'm too fond of eatin'."

"Don't be a fool!" says Alex. "That stuff about actors not eatin'

regular is a thing of the past. These days a actor makes more money than a banker. Did you ever appear on the stage anywheres in your life?"

"I did not!" snarls Delancey. "And I can lick the guy which claims I did!"

"Fine!" says Alex, lookin' at me. "Now of course you've seen movin'

pictures, hey?"

"Sure!" says Delancey. "What d'ye think I am--ig'rant?"

"Not at all," says Alex. "Do you think if you had a chance and was well paid for it, you could do the things them heroes does in the movies?"

Delancey Calhoun, nee Tim O'Toole, throws out his chest from here to South Dakota.

"Do I _think_ so?" he says. "Why, say, pal--that stuff would be soft for me! I ain't no second Mary Pickford or the like and Chaplin might grab off more laughs to the reel than me, but when it come to this here cowboy and full dress stuff--Oh, lady!!!"

"You're hired!" hollers Alex, slappin' him on the back. "Startin'

right now your salary is a hundred a week. Drive that truck back to where it belongs and throw up your job."

"A hundred a week, hey?" says Delancey, rollin' his eyes. "Oh, lady!!

In a month I'll have Carnegie gnashin' his teeth!" He breaks off and swings around on Alex. "Look here!" he says, "I been drivin' this truck for two years. I got a good steady job from eight in the mornin'

till ten at night, and I get twenty berries a week for it. I don't know nothin' about this nut job of yours, but if I don't get my hundred every week--well, they's gonna be a funeral with you bein' featured in it, get that?"

"That's all right," says Alex. "I'll deposit your first six months'

salary in the bank for you--how's that?"

"What could be sweeter?" says Delancey. "They's just one other thing."

"Speak up!" says Alex.

"As long as I'm gonna be a movie actor," says Delancey, "do I get a dress suit to wear?"

"Sure!" says Alex. "Why?"

"Well," grins Delancey, "I never had one of them open faced suits on in me life and in fact I was savin' up to get one now. I'm simply nutty to put on one of them layouts and knock the innocent onlookers silly.

If you hit a tough week, I might take ninety-five bucks and let the rest go over a few days, but I gotta have the dress suit and that goes!"

"It's yours," says Alex, diggin' me in the ribs.

"All right," says Delancey, "I'll go down now and make the boss faint by quittin'. I'll meet you anywheres you says to-morrow."

"You will not," says Alex. "I'll ride right down on that truck with you now!"

About two weeks later, Alex comes up to the flat and tells me to put on my hat and cane. He says he's gonna take me over to the studio and show me Delancey Calhoun's first picture.

"So you're really goin' through with it, hey?" I says. "What company did you get him landed with?"

"The Par-Excellence Feature Film Company," he says.

"I never heard tell of it," I says. "Who's in back of it?"

"A young feller by the name of Alex Hanley!" he comes back, grinnin'.

"What?" I hollers. "D'ye mean to say you started a movie foundry to put this guy over?"

"I'll leave it to you," he tells me, "when we get to the studio. Let's go!"

On the way over he shows me a lot of the advertisin' copy with which he's gonna introduce Delancy Calhoun to the waitin' world. I must say it was hot stuff! It claims that Delancey Calhoun is the sole heir to the $20,000,000 left by the late Artemus Calhoun which died twenty years ago. The will was given to his lawyers, Sandringham, Bellew and Fitch, with instructions not to open it for twenty years. When it was opened, it was found that them twenty millions was left to his only nephew, Delancey. Alex has opened a law office downtown under the name of Sandringham, Bellew and Fitch, so's to take care of the reporters and other guys of a inquisitive nature. Then comes the kick.

Delancey, a handsome and accomplished young giant, is tired of the "sham and deceit" of his own "exalted social set" and it's his ambition to wed a girl of the common people and let her enjoy some of the millions his hard-fisted uncle wrung from their toil. He also has another aim in life and that is to accomplish a sweepin' reform of the movie game. He's always been a great fan himself, but he's sick of the impossible plays which has been foisted on a innocent and nickel spendin' public. Therefore, he has organized his own movie company, will produce his own pictures from real life stories of the eternal struggle, and last but not least, he'll appear personally in them himself, to gratify a whim he's had since he first looked over the side of a cradle. He thinks the average movie hero is sickenin', and he wants to show the world how a real hero would act. He will appear in twelve pictures only. Each will be a episode in the greatest mystery story ever written ent.i.tled, "What was Hector's Choice?" Every single female in the country is invited to see this picture and send in their solution of the mystery. _The one that comes nearest to the correct answer will become the bride of Delancy Calhoun and his twenty million bucks_.

Oh, boy!!!

"Alex," I says, "I'll tell the world this is great stuff! It must be gonna cost you a bunch of money. Where do you get off?"

"Your head and glue is the two thickest things I ever seen," he says.

"Where do I get mine, hey? I get it from the sale of the pictures this bird makes. In a coupla months they'll be riots in theatres all over the country to see this guy in the movies!"

"Maybe," I says. "But how are you gonna pull 'em in? Right off the bat he's gotta compete with Chaplin, Mary Pickford and the like."

"I didn't wanna spring my ace so soon on you," he says, "but I guess I got to. How am I gonna pull 'em in? This way--_single women will be admitted free at every theatre where this picture is shown_!"

Wheee!!!!

"You're there, Alex!" I admits. "But suppose the men and married women stays away?"

"Stays away?" he says. "They'll break their way in! The married women will wanna see Delancey and get a idea of what they missed, and the men will wanna see what this big fathead looks like, if only to kid him."

"What kind of a actor is he?" I says.

"Wait till you see him," says Alex. "He's got the studio standin' on its ear! He thinks he's the greatest actor the world ever seen and everybody else from the director to the camera men is dubs. He refuses to fake any of the fight scenes and I gotta pay supers ten bucks a day to take his wallops. The first time he had a love scene with the leadin' lady he thought it was on the level and went out and got a marriage license. He argued two hours in favor of real bullets for the duel he fights with the villain and refused to play a scene supposed to be in Alaska because the studio's in Jersey. He claims the guy which wrote the scenario escaped from a lunatic asylum and he plays the second two reels his own way. I've had three different casts work with him because he gets them all sore by his kiddin' them about art. He takes everything in dead earnest and tried to beat up the villain on the street twice because he's supposed to hate him in the picture.

But--this first episode is _some_ film!!!"

I seen the picture in the private projectin' room and Alex told the truth when he called it "_some_ film." In fact that there would of been as good a t.i.tle for the whole picture as the one they had. They was more adventures happened to Delancey Calhoun in them five reels than Robinson Crusoe, Columbus, Kit Carson and Davy Crockett had in their combined lives! He was a heart-breaker one second and a head-breaker the next. He had insisted to Alex that one villain wasn't enough for him to foil, so they had about a dozen and he trimmed 'em all. They was also several heroines for him to save and clasp on his manly bosom, which same he did in evenin' clothes only. It was nothin'

for him to save a maiden in distress from a sinkin' ship and the next second appear in a lifeboat with a dress suit on, rowin' for sh.o.r.e. No matter if the scene was mornin' or night, Alaska or the Sahara Desert, Delancey was there in his little dress suit. He would of parted with that and his left eye with the same willingness.

Apart from the film itself, which might of been good or might of been bad, but certainly was excitin' for your life, Delancey was a riot! He was the handsomest thing I ever seen on a screen and I don't blame all the dames in the studio for fallin' for him. In that treasured dress suit of his which cost Alex as much as a limousine, they ain't no woman on earth that wouldn't get a thrill when she looked at him, provided he didn't start no conversation. He looked cla.s.s--that's all they is to it!

When we come out from seein' the picture, Delancey is walkin' around the studio, still with the dress suit on. He's tellin' one of the best directors in the country how to properly produce a movie and said director is takin' it hard. He breaks off when he sees us.

"h.e.l.lo!" he says. "Well, what d'ye think of me? I'm a knockout, hey?"

"Easily that," I admits, shakin' his hand. "How d'ye like bein' a actor?"

"Rotten!" he says. "This stuff is the bunk and them actors gimme a pain. I think they're all nutty. How they get money for this hop is past me! All I do all day is pretend I'm this and pretend I'm that and the foreman of this layout keeps yellin', 'Register fear!' and stuff like that at me. I don't know why this friend of yours is givin' me money for this, but I bet they's a catch to it somewheres!"