Next moment, from the dank interior of the beach house, the black telephone raised its beguiling voice, and I obeyed. It was, of course, my agent.
"Charles, I've made a date for you. For dinner tonight. Have you ever heard of a man called Mahound?"
"A Turk?"
"He could be a Turk."
"Never."
"I'll be honest with you, Charles, neither had I. But, believe me, he's solid. Money, new ideas, wonderful organizing power everything."
"What does he want from me?"
"Everything."
"It seems almost superfluous."
"Look, Charles, this guy wants to make pictures. Pictures have to be written, Charles, and they have to be produced. Now this guy . . ."
"Does he know my wages?"
"I'm trying to tell you, Charles, it'll be more than salary. A lot more."
"Where, and at what hour?"
On the first stroke of eight, I entered the foyer of the Beverly-Ritz. Precisely on the last stroke, an elevator boy, with an air of triumph, flung back his softly clanging lattice, and disclosed, like a Kohinoor in a casket, a personage of such distinguished bearing that I thought for a moment he must be a dummy, put there to lend tone to the hotel. I was wrong. He inhaled the smoke of a cigar of surpassing diameter; he swept a dark and flashing glance over the squalid congregation in the foyer; this glance came to rest on my hair, which I arrange in an unaffected style. He knew me. I knew him. "Mr. Rythym, this is very, very good of you. You have come all the way up from Malibu."
"Yes. Why do things by halves?"
"An excellent principle, Mr. Rythym. I have impressed it on my chef, who travels with me. If you'll come up to my little suite here, you shall tell me if I've been successful"
He fell silent as we entered his suite, awaiting my cry of surprise and admiration. It was with some difficulty that I repressed it. I was enchanted to hear him say, with the faintest discernible chagrin in his voice, "I hope this sort of decoration is not distasteful to you?"
"Not in the least. I like the baroque; I admire Titian."
"I confess I like my comfort. I like to travel with my own things. I had some little architectural changes made also."
"Excellent taste, if I may say so, and excellent judgment!"
He knew that I was impressed, but I knew that he wished to impress me. This made us even, except of course that he still had the money.
"I shall put that compliment to the test," said he. "Win you trust my taste so far as to let me give you a completely new cocktail?"
"I look forward to an important experience. How pleasant to talk like this! Which, of us started it? I feel that at any moment we may exchange bows."
The new cocktail was a sizable affair, with something of the cloudy opalescence of absinthe, and one of those vague but fiery flavours memories, regrets, contempt for regrets. I swallowed the first; the second swallowed me; I emerged, rather larger and greedier than life, in the midst of a banquet and a conversation. "Have a little more wine, Mr. Rythym. As I was saying, I should like to be like the recognized leader of a revived and superior film industry."
"All you need is money, and, of course, talent"
"You are with me then?"
"My agent permitting. A sordid soul, I must warn you!"
"He is to join us later this evening. I think I can talk to him in a language he will understand. Have a little brandy, Mr. Rythym. We'll drink to a long and happy association."
Next day, I visited Joe's offices at an early hour. Our eyebrows waved like the antennae of encountering ants. "Well, Joe? Did I sign something last night?"
"Think of a number," said he.
"Come on, I've been thinking of it all night."
"Multiply it by five," said he, smiling.
"Impossible! I'm not Einstein."
"Here's the contract, Charles. See for yourself."
"What a lot of pages! Hey! Here's rather a long string of options!"
"Well, like you said last night 'For all eternity, at that figure!'"
"Joe, I'd like to read this contract over with you, word by word."
"Sorry," said Joe. "I've got another client waiting. Did you notice her?"
"I saw, I must admit, what seemed like a patch of sunlight in your ante-room."
"That was Miss Belinda Windhover from England. Take another look as you go out"
"Before I do that, Joe, tell me some more about that fellow Mahound."
"Well," said my agent, hedging a little, "what did you think of him yourself?"
"Seems to have been everywhere."
"He certainly does."
"Knows everybody."
"He seems to, indeed."
"Amazing eyes, Joe.
"Yes, Charles, quite extraordinary."
"Anyway," said I, "he seems to have pots of money."
"Rich as the . . . Rich as Croesus," cried Joe, at once becoming his sunny self again.
"He must be older than he seems, Joe. He described an incident in the Boer War."
"Did he, indeed? Ha! Ha! I thought you were going to say the Crusades."
"What's that? He didn't describe an incident in the Crusades?"
"He did, though, to me. Of course, people say anything to an agent"
"Joe, does this Mahound remind you of anybody? Is his name in any way familiar?"
"I never could fit a name to a face, Charles. But I'll swear I've never seen him before."
"No, but frankly, Joe," said I uneasily, "who do you think he is?"
"It's not my business, old chap, to think who people are. That would never do. My job is to sell a client"
"You've sold me, Joe. Damned if you haven't! Damned anyway! Hell!"
"Look here, old boy. You don't want to get temperamental. After all, it's pictures. Think of the people I've sold you to in the past"
"Yes, Joe. But these damned options. You didn't really give him options on me for all eternity?"
"Well, it's just a phrase."
"A phrase! Oh, boy!"
"After all, he's a wonderful organizer. I bet he'll get some amazing effects, too. You work well with him, Rythym, and you've got a blazing future."
"Joe, this contract's got to be bust. I'm out"
"Sorry, old chap, it's cast-iron. Besides, think of the money. Think of me. An agent needs his percentage, Charles. Anyway, he may not be what you suppose. You're a writer, a dreamer; you've got to remember this is the twentieth century. Maybe he's just some old guy who found out monkey-glands in the Crusades or somewhere."
"With those ears?"
"Maybe he was a money lender in those days. Maybe he got 'em clipped a bit."
"Those nails?"
"Look, Rythym, you don't want to start being satirical. I know what producers are. I'm a man of taste, same as yourself. All the same, this is the industry, you know. I do a lot of business with these fellows. I can't go picking 'em to pieces just for a laugh."
"Joe, I think I'm going to walk about the streets a bit"
"That's the stuff. I knew you'd shape up to it. God! I'd give the world to undo it, Charles. I just made a fool mistake."
I went out, passing Miss Belinda Windhover on the way. She looked like an angel. What was that to me? That evening I called again at the Beverly-Ritz, and this time I was shown up to Mr. Mahound's suite. His dressing jacket was stupendous.
"Mr. Mahound, were you by any chance at the Crusades?"
"Mr. Rythym, that was a very interesting assignment"
"It makes you rather old, doesn't it?"
"Well, one's as old as one feels. I feel devilish young today, my dear Rythym. To be in the Beverly-Ritz Hotel, signing up talent, about to re-create the American Film Industry!"
"Avaunt!"
"My dear fellow! This is the twentieth century."
"Well then, clear off!"
"Have a cigar."
"Listen. I'm a tough customer."
"So am I. Which reminds me: I thought we might do a new version of Jekyll and Hyde. I could play the lead. Watch!"
"Phew!"
"Queen! Everyone hates seeing me like that. There was a saint I once looked in on. She said she'd rather spend the rest of her life on red-hot needles than see me like that for one second. Flattering, in a way. But don't you worry, Rythym, you and I are going to get along like blazes."