myself? Why couldn't I put it back in the safe?"

Baird listened respectfully, considering. "I think not," he
announced at length. "You'd hardly have time for that, and you have
a better plan. It'll be brought out in the subtitles, of course. You
are going to leave it at the residence of Mr. Hoffmeyer, where it
will be safe. You see, if you put it back where it was, his son
might steal it again. We thought that out very carefully."

"I see," said Merton. "I wish I had been told that. I feel that I
could have done that bit a lot better. I felt kind of guilty."

"You did it perfectly," Baird assured him.

"Kid, you're a wonder," declared the Montague girl. "I'm that
tickled with you I could give you a good hug," and with that curious
approach to hysteria she had shown while looking at his stills, she
for a moment frantically clasped him to her. He was somewhat
embarrassed by this excess, but pardoned it in the reflection that
he had indeed given the best that was in him. "Bring all your
Western stuff to the dressing room tomorrow," said Baird.

Western stuff--the real thing at last! He was slightly amazed later
to observe the old mother outside the set. She was not only smoking
a cigarette with every sign of relish, but she was singing as she
did a little dance step. Still she had been under a strain all day,
weeping, too, almost continuously. He remembered this, and did not
judge her harshly as she smoked, danced, and lightly sang,

Her mother's name was Cleo, Her father's name was Pat; They called