know whether it was my
chorus men wishing the gipsy curse on me, or the stage-carpenters going
on a strike. But look! See the swag that Jerry left behind! What shall
we do with it?"

"Loot!" suggested the playwright, with rare discrimination, as he dusted
off the wood ashes, and approached the table with glistening eyes.
"We'll divide share and share alike. It's the only way to win from
Jerry."

Temperament was asserting its gameness. Shirley put back into position
a shattered portrait of Sarah Bernhardt, and his eyes twinkled as the
apostles of the muses hastened to divide the chips of the departed one
into five generous piles. Holloway completed the letter, albeit with a
nervous chirography, and handed him the envelope.

"Go now, before a submarine war zone is declared. I'm going to close up
shop before the police come visiting. Good luck, Monty, in the cause of
science."

Although his conscience was clear about the game having created five
surprised winners by his interruption, he was disturbed over the
certainty that the voice was aware of his personal work in the case. The
difficulties were now trebled! Before any policemen appeared Shirley
had passed Broadway on his way to the motion picture studio, on the West
side of Tenth Avenue. Whatever secret observers may have been on his
tracks, nothing untoward occurred: still, his senses were quickened into
caution by the attempt on his life.

A parley with a grumpy gateman, the presentation of his letter and he
was admitted to the presence of the manager, a man exhausted with the
strenuosity of night and day work. Shirley understood the antidote for
his sullenness.

"Here, old man, send out for a little luncheon for the two of us. I have
some unusual experimental work, and need the assistance of a well-known
expert like yourself." The flattery, embellished by a ten-dollar bill,
opened a flood-gate of optimism.

A camera man was summoned, and the apparatus prepared for some
"close-up" motion pictures. Under the weird green lights of the mercury
vapor lamps, a director and company of players were busily enacting
a dramatic scene, before a studio set. They gave little heed to the
newcomer: boredom is a prime requisite of poise in the motion picture
art.

"I have here three phonograph records, which I want photographed."

"But they don't move--you want a still camera," exclaimed the dumfounded
manager.

"Yes, they do move as the picture is taken. I want a micr