Part 53 (1/2)

She didn't answer. She picked up a cigarette from the tray in front of her and lit it slowly.

He stood there watching her. Her face was calm and impa.s.sive. He gave in suddenly. ”Oh, all right Dulcie,” he said at last. ”Come on.”

The face she turned toward him was radiant with triumph.

He could see the surprised look on all faces when he helped her from the car and they walked on the set. He could hear the sudden excited buzz of the voices as they walked past. ”Let them talk,” he thought angrily, but all the same he was glad when he could get her off the set and back to his office.

He shut the door and looked at her. ”Now are you satisfied?” he asked, as near to anger with her as he'd ever come.

There was a satisfied look on her face. Peter had said she would never set foot in his studio again, and look who had brought her in! She walked to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. ”Yes, darling,” she answered contentedly, ”I'm satisfied.”

He looked at her. A strange admiration came into his eyes. One thing you could say for her, she had guts all right. Not many people had the nerve to go where they were not wanted and ignore what went on around them. He smiled slowly. He put his arms around her and kissed her. ”There's something mad about you, baby, but I like it. You're my kind of woman!”

He watched her walk toward the door slowly. She walked like a panther, slowly and easily, her magnificent body saying more than words.

”Call me tonight?” her husky voice came back to him over her shoulder.

He was about to answer her when the door opened suddenly. Doris and Johnny were standing there. They came partly into the room and stopped, looking at them.

Dulcie looked at Doris and Johnny and then back at Mark. A slow smile came to her lips. She walked past them slowly. Her hand went out and patted Johnny's cheek gently. ”Don't let me interrupt anything, darling,” she said in a low, husky voice. ”I was just leaving anyway.”

6.

The crickets were chirping in the gra.s.s on the side of the hill. The night was dark and the moonlight sparkled iridescently in the rippling waters of the pool beside which they were sitting. They had been quiet for a long time, the silence between them heavy and somber with thought.

Her eyes were questioning in the darkness. ”Johnny, what are you going to do?”

He shook his head slowly. He didn't know what he was going to do, he didn't know what he could do. It had turned out to be much worse than he had thought it could be. Over a million and a half of the two million ticketed for the production of six pictures had gone into United We Stand.

”You're not going to tell Papa,” she said. ”It would-” She left the unfinished sentence hanging expressively in the air.

He looked at her. Her face was tense and worried. His voice was low, hesitant. ”I don't want to tell him,” he said slowly, ”but I'm afraid not to. We're pretty low on cash and there's not enough left to make those pictures with.”

”But, Johnny,” she cried out impulsively, ”it would break his heart. He had such faith in Mark.”

He smiled bitterly. That was the trouble. If Peter hadn't gone off half-c.o.c.ked and let Gordon quit they wouldn't be in the pickle they were in now. He was suddenly tired of running interference for his mistakes. He leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes wearily. He might be tired of it, but a sense of duty kept tugging at a corner of his mind. He couldn't let Peter down. Peter had gone all the way down the line for him every time, personally as well as in business. No, he couldn't stop now. There were too many years behind them.

His face turned away from her. ”I know,” he said quietly. ”Why do you think I'm sitting here trying to find a way out?”

She moved closer to him, her arm slipped through his. ”You know I like you,” she whispered.

He turned his head and looked down at her. Her face was calm and her eyes warm and trusting. He put an arm around her shoulders. ”I can't imagine why,” he said, a faint note of amus.e.m.e.nt coming into his voice.

She looked into his eyes seriously. ”There's a strength inside you, Johnny, that people can feel and trust.” Her voice was low and thoughtful. ”They feel they can trust you and rely on you and draw some of that strength into themselves. Like Papa has.”

He turned his face away again and looked down the hill. He didn't want her to see the sudden doubt that had sprung into his eyes. He wanted to believe she was right, but he couldn't. He was afraid of too many things himself.

As when he had first seen Dulcie in Mark's office that afternoon. He had trembled suddenly. He was afraid to talk to her because he did not know what he might say. And when she had touched his cheek. It had been a hot flame running through his flesh to his brain. A strange recollection of long nights and pa.s.sionate whispers. Even now he could still feel the touch of her hand on his cheek. Would he ever stop remembering?

”I wish you were right,” he said bitterly.

Her hand turned his face back to her. Her eyes were deep pools of understanding. ”I know I'm right, Johnny.”

They were silent again and she was thinking. It was Dulcie that had made him feel as he did. The thought of her sent a sharp pain through Doris's breast. The pain was for his suffering, his tortuous memories, not for herself. Could she ever make him forget all that had gone before? Maybe she could, maybe she couldn't. She didn't know. She only knew that she loved him. She had always loved him. Her hand crept into his palm, it was warm and soft in there. She would try to mend the pain in him. It was like mending a Chinese vase smashed to bits on the floor. It might be difficult at first, but with patience-and time-it could be done.

”Maybe I could raise some money, enough to complete the other pictures, and throw it back in there without your father knowing about it.” His voice was speculative. He was thinking aloud.

”Where would you get that much money, Johnny?” she asked, her eyes suddenly lighting up. ”Oh, Johnny, if you only could!”

He looked down at her. ”I could sell my stock,” he said.

”Johnny, you wouldn't do that?” Her voice was shocked. ”Why, you've worked all your life for it.”

He tried to smile. ”So what?” he asked. ”I can buy it back when things get straightened out. It's the only way I can see that might work.”

”But what if you can't get it back?” she asked him. ”Then you've lost everything.”

Something inside him knew he would never get it back. Once it was gone, it was finished, that was all there was to it. A slow smile came to his lips. His heart began to hammer inside him and the words came from his lips before he knew he was saying them. ”You wouldn't mind marrying a poor man, would you, sweetheart?”

She looked up at him in surprise. For a moment she sat very still, then tears began to rush into her eyes. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. ”Oh, Johnny!” She was half laughing, half crying. ”I'd marry you no matter what! I love you, darling!”

He held her very close and closed his eyes. This was what a man really lived for, to hear things like these.

Mark sat in his room nervously looking at the telephone. He glanced at his watch. Two thirty a.m. A warm breeze came in through the open window, rustling the drapes. He went over to it and shut it quietly. Through the window he could see the dim figures of Johnny and Doris seated near the pool. ”d.a.m.n them!” he thought angrily.

He went back into the room and turned off the light. He didn't want them to know he was still awake. He sat down near the phone and lit another cigarette. Why didn't that d.a.m.n call go through? It must be eleven in the morning in Paris. Peter should be in the office there at that time.

The phone began to ring. He s.n.a.t.c.hed it up quickly, his heart pounding. It had sounded like a fire alarm in the quiet night. He was silent for a moment before he answered it. He hoped that its ring hadn't been overheard. At last he spoke into it in a quiet voice. ”h.e.l.lo.”

The operator's voice was slightly nasal. ”Mr. Mark Kessler?”

”Speaking,” he answered.

”I have your Paris call for you,” she said tonelessly. ”Go ahead, please.”

”h.e.l.lo, Papa?” he asked nervously.

His father's voice was excited. ”Mark, what's the matter? Is Mamma all right?”

”Mamma's all right, there's nothing the matter with the family,” he said quickly.