Miranda of the Movies.

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 142, 17 June 1926, Page 22

Miranda of the Movies.

By ERIC tEACBOFT. Author of "Winter Corn," "Silversands," Etc., Etc. j CHAPTER XIV. | Mr. Van Quisten held up a warning hand. He knew, from long experience, ! that this was not the way to tackle the stars in their courses. But the damage . was done. The lady in sealskin let j herself go. She was really rather shocking, but she showed a talent for abuse that Mr. Van Quisten had not , suspected. | "Excellent," said Mr. Jonah. "Now, I listen to mc." j It was a bad day for Mr. Van Quisten. If his bourgeois propriety wa s shocked by Miriam, it was.!, seared by j Mr. Jonah. Throwing politeness to the , winds, the little man let loose a tor- j rent of vituperation that would- have done credit to a costermonger in the East End—which, as he afterwards confessed, was. t where he had learnt it. Miriam hung fascinated on his words. "By gum," she murmured, when he at last ran down. "You're an expert." "I sometimes fancy," replied Mr. Jonah, "that I have a certain talent." And they actually smiled at one another. s "As a matter of fact," said Mr. Jonah, "we're starring you, after all." "Oh, righto," said Miriam casually. . "It didn't really matter." She treated them to her most ladylike bow and smile, and departed.' "That," said Mr. Jonah, with a little i sigh, "is the way to manage one kind . of lady. You may regard your troubles as over." But he spoke too soon. Half an hour later, while Mr. Van Quisten was describing to his chief with much zest the details of his plans for pushing on with "Bonnets Over the Border," the author of that able piece of picturisatiori requested an interview. He seemed curiously ill at ease. If the activities j of the studio had not been at so low an ebb, it might have been suspected ,that he was overworking. Was he to under-' stand, he asked, that the managingdirector had altered his plans for cast- ; ing the film? . j "Sure," said Mr. Van Quisten with ! quiet satisfaction. "You'll be pleased to know that your sweet-tempered little cousin is to stay on top, as originally arranged." "I'm not pleased altogether," said Dick Coverdale. ''The fact is I—l can't quite see her in the part of Dorothy." "But bless my soul, man, you wrote the thing round her." " "I suppose I did," Dick admitted awkwardly. "But that was before I'd seen Miss Torpe's work." "Miss . . .? Oh, you mean Miss May. That girl sure is the bane of my younj' life. But go on. Tell mc that she's the only possible Dorothy out of the twenty million odd females in these islands." "I think she is," said Dick quietly. "Of course, she hasn't much experience, but as a matter of fact ■ when I wrote the part I had in mind somebody —er — exactly like her." "Exactly like .her?' 2? You'll tell mt next that you were th' Hiking of the girl I herself." "I was." said Dick. Mr.. Van Quisten stared, at him gloomily. "Another mind unhinged by idleness." he remarked. "I guess it's lucky we didn't wait any longer. Otherwise we should have had to shoot the rest of the filnTat Colney Hatch. Well, what's the net result of "all thii? You'll notice that I'm busy." "Only this." said Dick, "that if you don't give Dorothy to Miss Thorpe you're losing a wonderful chance, and personally. I shan't care to be associated with the film. The script's yours, of course, but 111 ask permission to withdraw. I fancy you'll get along very i well without mc." Mr. Van Quisten struck his desk a mighty blow. "I should say we can." he thundered. "You can get out right now. We're going full steam ahead, and we don't want any Jonahs on the " "Eh?" said a soft voice at his elbow. Mr. Van Quisten collapsed. "You know what I mean." he pleaded weakly. "But say, I'm real glad Miss May has disappeared. My brain isn't built to stand much moTe of this." The author had been, on his way to the door, but ' at the * last words, he turned. "What do yon mean?'yhe demanded. "Oh," go," said Mr: Van Quisten. "You make me.tired." .- ' "But is it true that Miss May has — has disappeared? Where has she gone'" Mr. Jonah broke in: "What does it matter to you?" "Everything."-said Dick wildly. , For a moment the. moneylender's shrewd eyes dwelt on him thoughtfully. I "I see," he said softly. "Come here. Richard. It's true that this young lady has disappeared. She isn't at home, and she hasn't reported to mc, as she promised to do. Now, I want to find her, and you can help. What do you say to staying on. with us—Van Quisten's a surly old dog; don't mind him—and giving up your time to finding out what's happened to her? Draw on mc for expenses, and the salary can go on as visual." Dick looked at him curiously. "Hang the salary," he said. 'Tm going, anyway. But just how does this matter, to you?" Mr. Jonah let his hand rest for a moment on the young man's shoulder. "Not in quite the same way as it matters to you," he said quietly. "But it does matter, all the same. Shall we call it a deal?" "It's good of you," said Dick a little thickly. "Off with you, then. And by the way, it's no use calling in' Fulham Palace Road. The landlady's a" Bacchante, and she can't help you anyway." Mr. Jonah was certainly worried, as one or-two clients ■ who visited him in his finanncial parlour that afternoon had reason to discover. The last to blunder into the web, arriving a few before closing time, was Oswald Thorpe. He entered the familiar room, and took, on Mr. Jonah's invitation, the familiarchair, with the air of a man who sees j so little hope for the future that he has decided to let the future look after itself. Mr. Jonah had encountered this. kind of desperate jauntiness before, ..and . knew precisely what it meant. But \ from force of habit he attuned himself to his visitor's mood. "Off to Scotland, Mr. Thorpe? I hear; the birds are plentiful, in 6pite of the spring rains Yon make mc wish I were young again. Not that I ever went after grouse, you know;. That wasn't quite In my Tine." ' --; • - ■ ]. He'might have added that the only holiday he had ever taken in his youth had , been a week's stay at Clackton-on-Sea. "About our account," began Oswald, j who began to feel that it was time to cut the cackle and come to the horses.. "

Anyway," ■went on Mr. Jonah, *you and Lord Kilmaddock will be able to exchange gossip about your mutual friend in Rupert Street. I shall be with rou in spirit. By the way, how's your sister?" "How's my —J" Oswald looked at him in amazement. It was one thing for this little bounder to discover mutual friends on the strength of his loathsome trade, but quite another to pretend to a friendly interest in a man's own womenfolk. "Your sister," beamed Mr. Jonah. "Seen her l—"--" "I have two sisters." said Oswald. "About our account. I thought I'd better let you know —" "I was thinking of Janet," interrupted the moneylender. "1 haven't seen her for some time, and I was wondering if you could tell mc where she is." Oswald's mouth set in an unpleasant line. He had heard from Harry Haseltine that Janet had been discovered in the Savoy Lounge in Mr. Jonah's company, and had affected to disbelieve it. "I don't think you know my sister," he said, grimly. "On the contrary," said Mr. Jonah, with a maddening smirk, "I have the honour of counting her among my friends. Perhaps you haven't heard that she saved my life?" "What." "Oh, yes, the Press is quite clear on that point. I've got a cutting somewhere. But no. on second thoughts I've lost it." Oswald rose to his feet menacingly. "Now, look here, Jonah," he said, between his teeth, "you think you can do what you like because I've been an eternal imbecile, and got into your clutches. But you can't. You won't see my sister again." "Eh?"' asked Mr. Jonah, unmoved. "Why not ?" "Because I shall forbid her to see you. If I knew where she was—" "What's that ?" said Mr. Jonah sharply. "You don't know where she is?" "As a matter of fact. I don't; but—" "About our little account," said Mr. Jonah. "But, excuse mc a moment while I look at this telegram. It may be. urgent... Ah! What was I saying? Oh. yes, about our little account. Why not let the matter rest until you get back from Scotland ?" Oswald looked stupefied. But Mr. Jonah did not observe him. He was looking, with a faint smile, at the telegram that lay open on his desk. It ran: "Thorpe is ours. Can you come? Thorpe." "Everything has to wait for the grouse, doesn't it?" said Mr. Jonah. •'Good-bye, Mr. Thorpe, and good sport." (To be continued daily.)