Part 46 (1/2)

”It will pa.s.s, it will pa.s.s,” Peter said excitedly, waving his hands in the air. ”What does he want to do? Throw out all the pictures we got made? We got all our money tied up in them.”

”We'll never get our money back if the exhibitors won't play them,” Johnny retorted.

Peter looked down at him. For the first time doubt began to appear on his face. ”You really think they won't play them?” he asked in a hesitating voice.

Johnny returned his gaze levelly. ”I know they won't,” he answered with conviction.

Slowly Peter collapsed into the chair. His face had suddenly gone gray and strained. ”Then I'm ruined!” he whispered in a cracked voice as the implications of Johnny's statement sank into his mind. His hand reached out for Esther. It was as cold as ice.

”Not if we can get some talking pictures into work right away,” Johnny said.

Peter held up his hands helplessly. ”How can we?” he cried. ”All our money is in this program.”

”You can always go to Wall Street like Borden did,” Johnny prodded. He hated to say it, but he had to make sure that Peter would agree to his plan.

Peter shook his head. ”It's too late,” he replied. ”We owe Santos six million dollars, and our agreement says we can't borrow any more money anywhere until the loan is down to three million.”

Johnny reached into his pocket and took out an envelope. He looked at it a moment, then melodramatically handed it to Peter. ”Maybe this will solve our problems.”

Peter looked questioningly at him as he opened the envelope. The check fell out of it and fluttered to the floor. He picked it up and looked at it, then back at Johnny. ”What does Borden want to give me six million dollars for?” His face was dull and disbelieving.

”For the Magnum theaters,” Johnny answered slowly, watching Peter's face.

Peter looked down at the check in his hand and then back at Johnny. For a moment he was silent. ”But they're worth close to eight million,” he protested weakly.

Johnny looked at the check in Peter's hand. He almost smiled at the tight grip with which Peter held it. If he wanted to refuse the offer, he would have thrown it back at him. ”I know,” he said softly, ”but we're in no position to bargain. Beggars can't be choosers. We either take that check and give up the theaters or lose the whole thing.”

Peter's eyes seemed to fill with tears. He looked at Esther helplessly.

Johnny caught the look and something inside him seemed to tighten up in sympathy. He got out of his chair, walked over to Peter, and put a hand on his shoulder consolingly. ”Who knows, Peter?” he murmured. ”It might all be for the best. When we get on our feet, maybe we can get them back. We may be smarter than we think. George Pappas thinks the theater market is due to break any day now. We might even be lucky to get out in time.”

Peter's hand reached up and patted Johnny's. ”Yes,” he said, ”we might be.” He stood up slowly. ”I guess there's nothing else we can do,” he said questioningly.

”That's right,” Johnny answered, looking into his eyes. ”There's nothing else we can do.”

Peter looked down at the floor. ”I should have known better,” he said quietly. ”I guess I'm getting to be an old man.” He looked up at Johnny. ”I ought to retire and leave the business to young fellers like you.”

”Baloney!” Johnny exploded brusquely. ”There's nothing the matter with you. Everybody is ent.i.tled to make a mistake once in a while. And you made less than anybody else in this business that I know about!”

Peter smiled. He began to feel better. ”Do you really think so, Johnny?” he asked, his eyes s.h.i.+ning.

”Of course I do,” Johnny answered promptly. ”If I didn't think so, I wouldn't say it.”

Esther looked at Johnny and smiled gratefully. He was such a good boy, she thought, he knew what it meant to be kind.

Johnny insisted upon going home and Peter ordered the car out. He watched Johnny climb into it and waved to him as the chauffeur put it into gear and started down the driveway. He saw Johnny begin to cough as the car moved away.

He closed the front door and walked back to the library thoughtfully. He had been a fool not to see that talking pictures were a logical development of the business. He would have lost everything if Johnny hadn't decided to come out here and surprise him. There weren't many people like Johnny in this business who would look out for someone else the way he did.

He stopped suddenly as a thought came to him. Johnny had said Dulcie didn't expect him either. A cold fear began to sweep through him. He knew Dulcie, but he didn't know what Johnny would find when he got home. He went to the telephone and gave the operator Dulcie's number. He didn't want Johnny to be hurt. He didn't care what happened to her, but he didn't want Johnny hurt.

He stood there for almost five minutes listening to the phone ring without an answer. At last he hung up and went upstairs to bed heavily. He had a strange premonition of dread. Something was going to happen. He knew it.

He stopped at the telephone in the upstairs hall again and tried the number. Again no answer. Slowly he put the phone down. Maybe he was being foolish to worry about it. She was probably sleeping and didn't even hear the phone.

He walked into the bedroom. Esther looked at him. ”Who were you calling?” she asked.

”Johnny's wife,” he said lamely, strangely reluctant to say her name, ”I didn't want her to be frightened.”

Esther's eyes were understanding as she looked at him. She spoke in Yiddish. ”A shame,” she said, shaking her head, ”a shame.”

8.

The ringing of the phone woke him up. He reached over and turned on the table lamp next to the bed.

Dulcie's eyes were open. She was watching him. ”What did you do that for?” she asked lazily.

He looked at her. ”The phone is ringing,” he said unnecessarily, reaching out to pick it up and hand it to her.

She put out a hand to stop him. ”Let it ring, Warren,” she said softly. ”I don't expect any calls.”

He took his hand from the phone. ”Maybe it's something important,” he said.

”It's probably a wrong number,” she replied unsmiling.

The ringing of the phone disturbed him. It had a warning sound in the stillness of the night. It seemed to be trying to tell him something. He sat up in bed and took a cigarette from the night table and lit it. His hands were trembling slightly.

She s.h.i.+fted her head on the pillow and looked up at him. ”Why, Warren,” she said with a teasing smile, ”I do believe you're nervous.”

He didn't answer. He got out of bed and walked to the window and looked out. The rain was pouring from the skies, he could hear the dismal howling of the wind. He turned and looked at her. ”It's the weather,” he said irritably. ”It's enough to drive anybody nuts. Nothing but rain for three days.”

She sat up in bed and looked at him. He had been upset ever since the announcement of his impending divorce had been given out. She held out her arms toward him. ”Come back to bed, baby,” she said in a low husky voice, ”Mamma's got something that will soothe your jumpy nerves.”

He looked at her. The phone stopped ringing.

”See?” she said, tilting her head to one side and smiling, ”I told you it would stop.” Her blond hair cascaded over her shoulder.

Slowly he walked back to the bed. The springs creaked beneath him as he sat down beside her and put his cigarette out in the tray. ”Nothing frightens you, does it, Dulcie?” he asked.

She laughed merrily. She shrugged her shoulders quickly and the nightgown slipped to her waist. ”Why should it?” she asked, taking his hands and pressing them to her breast. ”I've got nothing to be afraid of.”

The phone began to ring again and she could feel him start. ”Take it easy,” she said softly. ”It will stop in a minute.”