man. Still, the
fellow had behaved respectfully, as a valet should. He had been quietly
obsequious of manner, revealing only a profound admiration for his
master and a constant solicitude for his comfort. Probably he, like
Baird, was trying to do something distinctive and worth while.

Having finished the last egg--glad they had given him no more than
three--the popular screen idol at the prompting of Baird, back by the
cameras, arose, withdrew a metal cigarette case, purchased that very
morning with this scene in view, and selected a cigarette. He stood
negligently, as Parmalee had stood, tapped the end of the cigarette on
the side of the case, as Parmalee had done, lighted a match on the sole
of his boot, and idly smoked in the Parmalee manner.

Three times the day before he had studied Parmalee in this bit of
business. Now he idly crossed to the centre-table upon which reposed a
large photograph album. He turned the pages of this, pausing to admire
the pictures there revealed. Baird had not only given him general
instructions for this scene, but now prompted him in low, encouraging
tones.

"Turn over slowly; you like 'em all. Now lift the album up and hold it
for a better light on that one. It's one of the best, it pleases you
a lot. Look even more pleased--smile! That's good. Put down the album;
turn again, slowly; turn twice more, that's it; pick it up again. This
one is fine--"

Baird took him through the album in this manner, had him close it when
all the leaves were turned, and stand a moment with one hand resting on
it. The album had been empty. It had been deemed best not to inform
the actor that later close-ups of the pages would show him to have been
refreshed by studying photographs of himself--copies, in fact, of the
stills of Clifford Armytage at that moment resting on Baird's desk.

As he stood now, a hand affectionately upon the album, a trace of the
fatuously admiring smile still lingering on his expressive face, a knock
sounded upon the door. "Come in," he called.

The valet entered with the morning mail. This consisted entirely of
letters. There were hundreds of them, and the valet had heaped them in a
large clothes-basket which he now held respectfully in front of him.

The actor motioned him, with an authentic Parmalee gesture, to place
them by the table. The valet obeyed, though spilling many letters
from the top of the overflowing basket. These, while his master seated
himself, he briskly