Peoria,
Illinois, by word of mouth. She employed a double at critical junctures.
"She'd be a fool not to," the Montague girl had said. And in private
life, having been unhappily wed twice before, she was Mrs. Sigmund
Rosenblatt. And crazy about her husband!

A little while ago he had felt glad he was not to die of starvation
before seeing his wonder-woman. Reeling under the first shock of
his discoveries he was now sorry. Beulah Baxter was no longer his
wonder-woman. She was Mr. Rosenblatt's. He would have preferred death,
he thought, before this heart-withering revelation.

CHAPTER XI. THE MONTAGUE GIRL INTERVENES

He came to life the next morning, shivering under his blankets. It
must be cold outside. He glanced at his watch and reached for another
blanket, throwing it over himself and tucking it in at the foot. Then
he lay down again to screen a tense bit of action that had occurred late
the night before. He had plunged through the streets for an hour,
after leaving the pool, striving to recover from the twin shocks he had
suffered. Then, returning to his hotel, he became aware that The Hazards
of Hortense were still on. He could hear the roar of the aeroplane
propeller and see the lights over the low buildings that lined his
street.

Miserably he was drawn back to the spot where the most important of all
his visions had been rent to tatters. He went to the end of the pool
where he had stood before. Mr. Rosenblatt-hardly could he bring his mind
to utter the hideous syllables-was still dissatisfied with the sea's
might. He wanted bigger billows and meant to have them if the company
stayed on the set all night. He was saying as much with peevish
inflections. Merton stood warming himself over the fire that still
glowed in the brazier.

To him from somewhere beyond the scaffold came now the Montague girl and
Jimmie. The girl was in her blanket, and Jimmie bore a pitcher, two
tin cups, and a package of sandwiches. They came to the fire and Jimmie
poured coffee for the girl. He produced sugar from a pocket.

"Help yourself, James," said the girl, and Jimmie poured coffee for
himself. They ate sandwiches as they drank. Merton drew a little back
from the fire. The scent of the hot coffee threatened to make him forget
he was not only a successful screen actor but a gentleman.

"Did you have to do it again?" he asked.

"I had to do it twice again," said the girl from over her tin cup.
"They're developing the