her." Merton Gill obeyed.

The action progressed. In this wait for the policeman the old mother
crept forward. She explained to Merton that the money was in the
ice-box where the real thief had placed it, and since he had taken
the crime of another upon his shoulders he should also take the
evidence, lest the unfortunate young man be later convicted by that;
she also urged him to fly by the rear door while there was yet time.
He did these things, pausing for a last embrace of the weeping old
lady, even as the hand of the arriving policeman was upon the door.

"All for to-day, except some close-ups," announced Baird when this
scene had been shot. There was a breaking up of the group, a
relaxation of that dramatic tension which the heart-values of the
piece had imposed. Only once, while Merton was doing some of his
best acting, had there been a kind of wheezy tittering from certain
members of the cast and the group about the cameras.

Baird had quickly suppressed this. "If there's any kidding in this
piece it's all in my part," he announced in cold, clear tones, and
there had been no further signs of levity. Merton was pleased by
this manner of Baird's. It showed that he was finely in earnest in
the effort for the worth-while things. And Baird now congratulated
him, seconded by the Montague girl. He had, they told him, been all
that could be expected.

"I wasn't sure of myself," he told them, "in one scene, and I wanted
to ask you about it, Mr. Baird. It's where I take that money from
the ice-box and go out with it. I couldn't make myself feel right.
Wouldn't it look to other people as if I was actually stealing it