e's valet, is undisputed low man in Film City. He's disgusted
with life, he ain't got the ambition of a sleepin' alligator, or nerve
enough to speak harshly to _himself_. All right! If Miss Devine will
follow my orders for a couple of weeks without Adams knowin' who or
what she is, I claim that bird will make good! All that guy needs is a
reason for tryin', and she can make herself it!"

"You don't expect a dame like that to make love to a guy that cleans De
Vronde's shoes, do you?" I asks him.

"You must of been a terrible trial to teacher when you went to school!"
he snorts. "No!--I don't want her to make love to him. I want to
prove to her that the things we put in the movies is happenin' all the
time in real life, only more so! I want her to make Adams _feel_ just
how far back he's gone. I want her to cut him dead, because he's a
valet, and let him know that's the reason. Then nature and him will do
the rest, or I'll pay off! Who put Adam over? Eve! All right, I'm
gonna wind this thing up and let it go. I'll take the best scenes from
the last six pictures we put out, and make Adams and Miss Devine play
'em out, without either of 'em knowin' it. They oughta be a villain,
and I'm shy one just now, but I'll lay six to five that one will turn
up!"

"Look here!" I says. "Suppose Miss Devine should fall for this Adams
guy for _real_! Did you ever figure that?"

"Yes!" he snorts. "And suppose the Pacific Ocean is made outa root
beer!"

I guess Miss Devine must of been a sport, because Duke starts his
stunts off the next day. She promised to give Adams a month to show
signs of life and to do exactly as Duke tells her. Adams ain't to be
told a thing about it, and Miss Devine giggles herself sick over how
she's gonna show Duke the difference between real life and the movies.
They put up a thousand bucks apiece.

The first action come off when Miss Devine and Adams meets in the
"Sahara Desert" set.

"Good morning!" pipes Adams, bowin' and raisin' his hat.

"I beg your pardon!" comes back Miss. Devine, drawin' herself up and
presentin' him with a glance that's colder than a dollar's worth of ice.

"I--I--said good morning!" stammers Adams, kinda flustered.

"You have made a mistake, my man!" she says, each word bein' about
twenty below zero. "A mistake I shall report to your master. I--"

"But--," begins Adams, gettin' red. "You--"

"That will do!" she cuts him off. "I'm not in the habit of