"But I'm not going to fail." And, in that moment, she felt she couldn't, she mustn't. As though he had flung her a challenge and she had taken it up.

He shrugged. His lips twisted slightly. "Very well. Try it out." He added softly, "I'll be sorry to lose you as my secretary, Starr."

"I'll be sorry, too. You've been very decent to me as an employer," she said.

He smiled ruefully. "You needn't emphasize the 'employer' part of it."

"You've been decent to me in other ways," she said quietly.

He grinned. "You hate to admit that, don't you, child?"

She knew she did. But that he should know it, too, made her feel resentful.

"If Stephen should want me to start work immediately would you mind?" she said coldly.

"No," he grinned broadly. "Since you are going to leave my employ, the sooner the better, Starr. That will give me a fairer chance, won't it?"

"What do you mean?"

He laughed shortly. "I may have no morals, but at least I have a code of my own, child. So long as you remain in my employ I feel compelled to treat you with a certain restraint, a certain courtesy even."

Her eyes flashed fire. "And you wouldn't treat me normally with such courtesy, Mr.

Brandon?"

He grinned mockingly. "Not the same kind of courtesy. You don't really want me to! No woman ever enjoys courtesy. The more brutal you are to her the more she loves you!"

"It seems your experience of women must have been distinctly limited," she said icily.

He threw back his head and laughed aloud. "Don't you believe it. The great lady and the little gamine are all the same under the skin. The ruder you are to them the quicker they come to heel.... Don't you agree with me?""I most certainly don't.... And in order that you won't overstrain yourself with courtesy, Mr.

Brandon, I'll give you my notice right now."

"Good!" he said shortly. "That clears the air, doesn't it. Come here, Starr." He held out his hands to her.

Her brown eyes opened wide in surprise. 'Why should I?"

"Because I want you to. I want to take you in my arms and kiss you as I've been longing to kiss you for weeks. But because you've been in my employ I haven't been able to. I must be developing a sense of honor at my late age! Come here, Starr." His voice roughened. It was almost brutal.

"I shall do nothing of the kind," she shot out indignantly.

"Won't you?" He laughed again, and before she could move she was in his arms. Crushed to him so tightly that she felt the hard, strained muscles of his chest against hers. She felt his hands slide down her back and fit into the curve of her waist. She felt his kisses. Kisses that teased, demanded, confused her. And while she struggled to free herself she knew she didn't want to be free. And she hated and despised herself for the knowledge.

"Does Stephen ever kiss you like this?" he asked as he released her.

"No, no, no..." Her small voice was hoa.r.s.e with fury. "He's a gentleman!"

"And gentlemen don't kiss ladies," he chuckled grimly. "That's a new one on me!"

"Not like that.... Not against their wishes."

He caught her arm again and drew her close to him. "Was it against your wishes? Would you swear to me it was entirely against your wishes, Starr?"

She choked with rage. All the more because she couldn't deny it.

"Let me go. Oh, I hate you," she cried.

"That's better." He smiled down at her crookedly. "A good l.u.s.ty hatred is an excellent prelude to love, child."

15

The camera tests were a success. Starr photographed excellently.

"But I knew you would," Stephen a.s.sured her enthusiastically. "You have the right features.

Fairly flat cheekbones, small nose, strong chin, large round eyes. The molding of your face is right, too. That's most important. Conventional prettiness doesn't mean a thing on the screen.

Yes, I think I always knew you would film well."

"You might have let me in on that secret while I was working for you," she smiled back at him. "I wouldn't have objected exactly to entering the lists then!"

"I'll admit it was pure selfishness on my part," he laughed apologetically. "You see, it's fairly easy to find a new film actress, but a good secretary is quite a different matter!"

They were standing talking at one end of the large improvised studio that had been hastily erected for the interior shots of Gentleman Pirate. It was in between two of the takes. A scene aboard ship had just been shot, and now under the supervision of the carpenter they were getting the next scene ready. A busy hive of industry, the studio was. The electricians were moving their "inkys" and "kilos" into place; the property man was a.s.sisting verbally in the reconstruction of the scene; the make*up man was moving amongst the actors examining their make*ups critically; the hairdresser, a small plump woman in vivid scarlet, was patting into place the elegant waves in the leading woman's hair; the chief cameraman was getting his camera into the right focus while the sound engineer tinkered with the microphone boom.

Starr was already made up, though it was doubtful if Stephen would want her that day. All afternoon they had been taking and retaking a couple of scenes on the yacht. Rex couldn't get them to Stephen's satisfaction. Almost as though Stephen derived a grim satisfaction in making the great Rex Brandon go over and over a certain take.

Rex was stretched at full length on the sawdust floor in another corner of the studio. His head was propped on a sack of sand while he studied the script. Rita, who was seated on the script girl's desk, idly watched the various activities while she swung one pretty silk*stockinged leg. Now she glanced about hurriedly, then slipped round to the corner where Rex lay. She sank down beside him, pleased with the a.s.surance that the piled*up sacks of sand hid her completely from Stephen's view.

"Want me to hear you your lines, darling?" she whispered.

"No, I don't," Rex said irritably. "I wish you'd go away and leave me alone."

"Poor boy!" She touched his hair lightly, a caress in her small, soft fingertips. "Stephen's been acting rottenly mean today, hasn't he?""He hasn't been too easy," Rex grumbled. "If we did that shot once we did it a thousand times. Darned if I think it was better in the end. I thought it was O. K. the first time."

"I know," she sympathized. "I'm sure it's just because he wants to show off before that girl."

Her pretty red lips tightened, and her eyes flashed angrily. "I think he's rather sweet on her. I'm a back number," and she laughed bitterly.

Rex raised his head with a jerk. "Do you think so?" he asked roughly.

She shrugged. "Not much doubt about it, though it's scarcely flattering to me to admit it! Of course," she sighed, "I'm sure it's all beautifully Platonic. The dangerous affairs always are!"

The muscles of Rex's face tightened. "You don't think it's serious?"

She pouted. "How should I know? They're always together. Of course he excuses it by saying it's work. Since she undertook the part at this eleventh hour he has to coach her, etc.!

Coach her? I bet he does! But not in the part, I'm sure!"

"But... I always thought Stephen was madly in love with you. After all, you're his wife," Rex said slowly.

"Oh, yes! But he seems to be growing more broad*minded lately. When I was going about with you he was positively bristling with old*fashioned conventions. But now he's got him a girl friend he seems to be forgetting at least one convention a day! Heaven alone knows where he will end!" And she laughed maliciously.

The set was ready, a shot on a desert island. Rex was called to take his place. The lovely heiress and he had just been shipwrecked. Rex was dressed in torn canvas trousers, a dirty white shirt, equally torn old tennis shoes. It wasn't exactly a prepossessing costume, but he managed to look extraordinarily handsome in it. Starr, standing half hidden behind one of the inkys, had to admit that. And, having admitted it, she felt rather queer. She couldn't describe the feeling, but it made her feel shaken. Suddenly he looked up and, catching her eyes, he smiled across at her with mocking impudence. Hastily she looked away. She hadn't spoken to him since that night on the balcony.

Just then the a.s.sistant director gave the order. "Light 'em up," and immediately the huge arclights and all the inkys and kilos blazed down upon Rex and Pauline Jerrold, the lovely heiress. The gigantic lights were almost blinding. So blinding, in fact, that a three*minute shot is considered quite an endurance test. The whistle for silence blew, the wooden board on which were the t.i.tle of the picture and number of the set was presented and photographed, the clapper boy banged the wooden clappers which synchronized sound and action.

Pauline Jerrold, in the role of the perfectly marcelled, auburn*haired heiress, tossed her head and said, "You're different today. I can't understand you."

Rex, in the guise of the Gentleman Pirate, smiled his crooked smile and replied, "Perhaps I'm developing a sense of honor, my dear!"

The dialogue went on, but Starr didn't hear it. Where had she heard that phrase, and recently, too? But of course she knew. Rex had used it to her, that night on the balcony. She was conscious of a queer numb hurt she couldn't understand. An outraged sense of anger. But, she asked herself tersely, what else could she expect? The professional lover! The professional lover in real life as well as on the screen!

Starr heard two of the electricians talking.

"Desmond's been giving Rex a pretty rough break lately," one of them said."Yes, Mac, he doesn't seem able to do a thing right. And he's not the sort of actor who improves under such treatment. He's always at his best the first time a shot's taken."

"Desmond seems to have it in for him for something," the one addressed as Mac whispered.

Then the cry of "Light'em up" came, the whistle blew, and the scene was reshot.

Starr thought angrily: "Of course they're mistaken. As if Stephen were small enough to allow a personal grudge to crop up in his work! How little they know him! Why, that's the very last thing he would do." She felt quite furious with them. She'd like to give them a good piece of her mind.

Later that afternoon Stephen shot a scene in which Starr appeared. She was one of the guests on the steam yacht from which the lovely heiress had been abducted. She had only one line: "And she hadn't any clothes with her, either!" But she felt the whole dialogue of the picture rested upon her slim shoulders.

It was a terrific and terrifying moment the first time the huge arclights blazed down upon her. Her eyes felt dazzled, her face so hot she was sure all the grease paint was running. The microphone hanging from the boom almost immediately overhead alarmed her. She was positive she couldn't even remember that one solitary line! But, queerly, the moment she actually started to speak, all her nervousness left her. She forgot where she was; she even forgot the, blaze of those awful dazzling lights. Almost before she realized it had begun, the shot was over.

Stephen Desmond touched her arm. "That was splendid, Starr."

"Swell," she whispered back. She blinked very hard. She had an absurd and almost uncontrollable desire to burst into tears. Too awful before all these people in the studio! She supposed it was the strain.... But it was nice hearing Stephen praise her.

On her way to the refreshment pavilion she ran into Rex. He blocked her way and smiled down at her in his faintly derisive manner. "Congratulations, child. The way you delivered that one line was masterly. The great Stephen was delighted. Obviously! Your scene had only to be shot once, while everything I've done today has had to be retaken about a hundred times.

Your name will be in electric lights soon, if I'm not mistaken."

"You needn't be sarcastic," she flung at him bitterly.

The mocking smile died. He grinned ruefully. Rather like a bad boy who is penitent but doesn't wailt to admit it. "I'm sorry, Starr. It was pretty mean. But I feel in the devil's own temper. I had to let off steam somehow. You were perfectly O. K. I was surprised, really."

"That's praise indeed from the great Rex Brandon!"

"Now who's being sarcastic?"

"I'm glad I was useful in hearing you your lines the other night!" Despite herself she couldn't keep it back, although she realized at the time it was a confession of weakness.

He looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Now she'd started, something forced her to go on: 'That line in the script about developing a sense of honor. I thought I'd heard it before!"

He threw back his head and gave out a great shout of laughter.

"You silly little thing! I hadn't even seen the script then!"Vaguely she felt comforted, though she was still annoyed.

"Just shows how similar are your own and your screen character, doesn't it?"

His smile twisted. "Maybe! Though if your screen personality develops along the lines of your hair you'll be starred as the Raging Screen Beauty"'

"I hope the new secretary is satisfactory," she remarked coldly in the pause.

"Which means you don't hope anything of the sort," he laughed back at her. "But she is, you'll be disappointed to hear. And so unattractive we get quite a lot of work done in the evening!"

All that evening, all night in fact, Starr was on tenterhooks to know the result of that shot.

She heard it was to be run through in the projection room about seven the next morning. She didn't dare go down to the studio until it was over. Stephen had said he wouldn't be wanting her that morning anyhow.

Eight. Eight*fifteen. Eight*thirty. She couldn't swallow the coffee that was brought to her bedside. Wouldn't Stephen phone her after he had seen it? Surely, he would!

At eight thirty*eight exactly the telephone beside her bed rang. It was the studio calling her, the girl at the hotel telephone switchboard told her.

'Tell me the worst at once, please, Stephen," she laughed huskily into the receiver.

"It isn't Stephen," Rex's voice came back to her. "I hope you're not disappointed?"

She was. So disappointed she could have screamed at him. She had to know the result of that shot.

And then, in answer to her thoughts, "The shot's O. K., Starr. You film excellently, child.

And your voice comes out splendidly. I've just come from the projection room. If our worthy director isn't pleased, he should be."

"I'm glad ... I'm glad..." And she was. So glad she wanted to sing, to shout. She wanted to put the receiver down and dance madly about the room.

"Dine with me tonight to celebrate?"

That sobered her. "I'm sorry, Rex...."

"Then I'm not to be rewarded for coming down to this filthy studio at the unG.o.dly hour of seven just to see how your shot came through?"

"It was nice of you but..."

"To h.e.l.l with your 'buts.' If you're not careful you'll lose me!" And he hung up on her.

She was still staring at the telephone with a mixture of surprise and indignation when Stephen called her.

"It's great, Starr," he said. "I'm terribly proud of my new little film actress."