Chapter XV: Stoner’s Share

Margot made an early start for Astoria. Her impatience to talk with Corinne Delamar would have brought her to the studio still earlier if there had been any hope of finding the star on the lot before eleven o’clock. Very different, this voluntary call upon Corinne, to Margot’s last visit, solicited by the star and made by Margot with bored distaste. She laughed softly to herself, remembering her eavesdropping and the advantage it had given her over Stoner. It might be true that listeners never hear good of themselves, but at least it would appear that sometimes what they heard in this unapproved manner gave them the whip-handle in dealing with crooks, or, to be more charitable, those who followed crooked ways.

She went straight to Corinne’s dressing-room. The colored maid said that her mistress was doing a scene a short distance from the studio, but would return in a half hour, she thought. Margot waited an hour, amusing herself with a movie periodical she found in the dressing-room. Among other diverting matter it contained an interview with Miss Delamar, which gave a word picture of the actress as a person of high ideals, strict views on love and marriage, and a belief that the moving picture industry was the greatest symbol of art for art’s sake, and morality for the world, that had so far been discovered. Very clever of Corinne! And clever of the interviewer, who had carefully avoided the slightest suggestion of irony. That was the sort of thing the movie fans ate up, and what the moving-picture industry hoped that they would digest and thrive on. There was also a “still” of Corinne, which indicated a beauty as ravishing as it was pure and noble. Well, well! Margot wondered if she would ever have such a chance to laugh at a description of herself.

Corinne stood in the small doorway looking at Margot with curious but not antagonistic eyes. Margot rose quickly and asked her pardon for having taken the liberty of waiting for her in her dressing-room. She particularly did not wish to see anyone else, she carefully explained. Corinne, dressed as the heroine in _A Toreador’s Love_, and looking prettier than usual--a purely fleshly prettiness--was gracious in a stilted way (the only way possible to her, when she felt socially inferior to another woman), told Margot please to sit down, and offered her a cigarette. Margot, remembering that her father had once told her that in any interview the first advantage lies with the one who speaks last, deliberately waited for Corinne to begin the conversation. Margot could be silent, with a beaming smile, and gentle repose of manner, most misleading to strangers.

“What can I do for you, Miss Anstruther?” That wasn’t so stupid of Corinne, Margot thought, smiling sweetly, for it put her at once in the position of one dispensing patronage. Margot’s smile became still more friendly and confidential.

“That’s awfully nice of you, Miss Delamar, but you see, I’ve come to do something for _you_!”

Corinne’s cigarette hung loosely from her painted lips, as she stared at Margot.

“I don’t quite see what _you_ can do for _me_, Miss Anstruther--in the circumstances.” Nasty dig that, thought Margot, still smiling.

“Nevertheless,” she said gently, “I’m going to try to. And one of my reasons for doing so, Miss Delamar, is that I have always liked you.” Naughty Margot! What more subtle way of patronizing than to assure an acquaintance that you’ve always liked them? Yet the genuine ring of friendliness in her voice made Corinne say quickly:

“And, as a matter of fact, I’ve liked you, although there seemed to be plenty of reason why I shouldn’t.”

“You’re mistaken. There hasn’t been any such reason--not for a moment.” This time there was no doubt of Margot’s sincerity.

“You mean--what you said the last time you were here--about having no particular use for Fred Stoner, in a personal way, I mean?”

“Yes, that, and all that stuff he filled your head with about my working publicity in order to get an advantage over you. What I told you that day--just the other day, but it seems ages ago--I’ve come here to-day to prove to you, Miss Delamar.”

Corinne frowned, looking from Margot to the floor, out into space and back at Margot as if trying to piece together disconnected facts. Then she said:

“I don’t know what you have to tell me, but I suppose it has something to do with your mystery story. Although I can’t imagine how _that_ can concern Stoner or me, now that you’re no longer in the cast, Miss Anstruther.”

“Did you read what the papers published last night and this morning?” Margot asked quickly.

“I read this morning’s story. How much of it is true?”

“All of it! I got hold of some newspaper men last night, and made them agree to write it up for to-day’s papers with some idea of sticking to facts. But of course there’s a lot they didn’t print because they know nothing about it. And it’s _that_ I’ve come here to tell you. You remember the reference to the fat man whom Stella Ball said had come to her room that night, with Murchison, offering to pay a certain sum for the rental for a week of the radium stolen by Murchison?”

“Yes. The one who is supposed to have paid the girl’s hospital bill?” Corinne seemed to make no connection yet, in her mystified brain.

“Well, that fat man--as the girl described him--was--is--a would-be famous film director, by name Frederick Stoner!”

Corinne stared at her without speaking. The ashes from her cigarette fell over her breast, and she threw the cigarette into a corner of the room. Finally she said slowly:

“I suppose--Miss Anstruther--you wouldn’t dare--make such a statement--without being able--to give proof?”

“Hardly!” Margot gave a short laugh, a hard little laugh, recalling Stoner’s contemptible treatment of her and of Gene.

“What _is_ your proof?”

“The ‘proof’ will speak for himself.”

“You mean the man Murchison, but he’s refused, the police say, to squeal on his customer, as he calls him. You mean you know that Murchison will give it away in court?”

“No, I don’t mean that at all. I mean that the man himself--the one who was there _with_ Murchison, will be the living proof, and to _you_, Miss Delamar.”

Corinne studied her with narrowed, suspicious eyes. She seemed trying to take the measure of the quiet, self-contained girl who sat in front of her, throwing out vague hints, that perhaps weren’t so vague after all. An expression flashed suddenly in her green eyes, which told Margot that Corinne’s intelligence had risen to the occasion.

“I suppose you’re insinuating, Miss Anstruther, that you’ve got enough on Fred Stoner to force his confession?”

“Precisely! And his confession to you in my presence, if you’ll be so kind as to send for him. And just one thing more, before he comes. I don’t believe that Stoner is always aboveboard in his affairs with women. I want to confess something myself. The other day, when you sent for me, I started to go to my dressing-room before seeing you. As I reached the foot of the stairs, I heard your voice talking about me. I felt no hesitancy in listening, after hearing my own name, in view of your sending for me and of the attitude Stoner had taken about my investigating the mystery of my room.”

“Do you mean to say you heard the whole conversation?” Corinne’s red lips trembled and her eyes darkened with anger.

“Hardly that, for I’ve no idea how long it was going on before I arrived. Also I ran off after I’d heard enough to prove what I’d already suspected, that he was trying his best to start something between you and me.”

“You didn’t hear anything--anything of a more--personal nature?”

“Personal, you mean, Miss Delamar, as between you and Stoner? I’m afraid I did. I heard enough to understand that you thought--as you implied to me in our _first_ short interview--that I was flirting with him, and that he was interested in me. I heard also enough to know that he has either lied to you or lied to me or--as is quite as likely--lied to both of us. I heard him assure you of his loyal devotion, or something like that, and of his utter indifference to me. And I want to tell you, because I really like you, that his advances toward me, whatever his motives may have been, took the form of forced love-making in my room, when he had come unbidden, with the excuse of having a theory to give me about my mystery. And not only did he force his physical attentions, but he begged me to marry him, took away my job because I refused--incidentally I struck him across the face--because I lost my temper--and told me he’d give the job back to me any time I might decide to marry him.”

Corinne had not interrupted by a word or a gesture, merely watching with eyes that glinted like a cat’s. Then she said:

“I believe what you say, for if your statement about his being the man who wanted to rent the radium is true, then you can punish him enough in that direction without revenging yourself by lying about his asking you to marry him.”

Margot, rather amazed by Corinne’s ability to reason so logically, said eagerly:

“That’s absolutely right. My only reason for telling you that part of the story which concerns Stoner and myself in a personal way, is because it concerns you also, in so much as I have reason to believe that you’ve felt an interest in Stoner which I’m afraid he doesn’t appreciate. As one woman to another, I want to warn you.”

In spite of the makeup on cheeks and lips, Corinne had turned very white. Margot felt a chill disgust, tempered by pity, that so pretty, and, she believed, decent a girl as Corinne, should have fallen for a man like Stoner. Corinne moistened her dry lips and called to her maid. She told her to find the director and tell him that Miss Delamar must see him at once on an urgent matter. Then she cautioned the maid, in no circumstances to let Stoner suspect that she had a caller in her dressing-room.

Corinne turned to her dressing-table, studied her face in the mirror, and carefully rubbed in some cold cream, rubbed it off, added a soft liquid powder, then a cream rouge on lips and cheeks, then a soft dusting of powder. Also she put some drops in her eyes. Then she forced a smile and told Margot that she was ready to receive the “would-be famous film director.” Strange, Margot thought, that although Corinne had been loath to believe ill of Stoner when it concerned crooked outside dealings, she seemed to have accepted Margot’s arraignment of him regarding their personal relations, without question!

Margot would never forget Stoner’s expression when he stood just inside the small dressing-room, and met her amused and calmly accusing eyes. Corinne, watching him with her green eyes, did not miss the quick batting of his eyelids, the drawing in of his thick lips, and the yellowish film that covered, for an instant, the iris of his pale blue eyes, when his first glance discovered Margot sitting at ease in the star’s dressing-room.

Again Margot conferred the disadvantage on her antagonist, by giving him the first chance to speak, and Corinne intuitively did the same. Stoner, his eyes half covered by his heavy lids, looked with surly assurance from one woman to the other. Instinctively he seemed to feel their alignment, and antagonism to him.

“What do you want?” he said with gruff abruptness, his expressionless eyes fixed on the star.

Before Corinne could answer him, Margot said quietly:

“_She_ doesn’t really want anything of you, Mr. Stoner. _I’m_ the one who wants to see you.” She held his eyes with a gaze so keen and masterful that his glance wavered and fell.

“I just wanted to tell you, Mr. Stoner, in the presence of Miss Delamar, that I know, beyond any possibility of doubt or denial on your part, that you were the man who went to the room of Stella Ball and who wanted to rent that radium!”

As if against his will, his eyes once more met Margot’s. There was no mistaking that look of fear, followed swiftly by a gleam of anger.

“Hell of a lot you know about me!”

His language, though inelegant, made Margot smile in his face, which enraged him still further. He glared at her venomously.

“I was a fool to choose _you_ that day, instead of Lulu Leinster.”

Margot’s irritating smile broadened.

“I believe I’ve heard you express those sentiments before, Mr. Stoner. In view of what I know about you, your reason for choosing me that day, for the picture, is quite obvious. I repeat my accusation about Stella Ball and the radium.”

Stoner’s face grew purple. “What the devil do you mean by telling such lies? Don’t you know you can be sued for libel--defamation of character?” His threat held so much bluster that it made Margot smile again.

“Not by you, Mr. Stoner, for what I accuse you of isn’t libel or defamation of character. It’s God’s truth. Quite apart from the way you aroused my suspicions by all that rot about publicity, and your evident eagerness to make me drop the matter of my mystery--not to mention a very strange expression I caught in your eyes several times, notably when I first gave you my address; your behavior the night you called on me (your call was merely a ruse to examine that room), your extraordinary antics in the room where the policeman was keeping guard, and your still more extraordinary and utterly unconvincing theory about the lights and the hand putting them out--merely an attempt to choke off my theories, or an excuse for your call; all this set the stage beautifully for the final curtain.” She stopped, watching him with amusement overlaying her serious intent to corner him.

“What do you mean?” Sheer curiosity forced the quick question.

“I mean, Mr. Stoner, the remarkable kick I got out of your picture _The Masque of Life_, with its weird and absurd portrayal of the magic properties of radium!”

She saw his lips twitch and his pale eyes grow darker as the pupils dilated. She knew that what she saw, Corinne must also see, but she would not shift her glance from Stoner’s self-accusing face.

“I’m a damn fool to stand here talking to you,” he said, wetting his lips. “But since you’ve started things, you might as well finish. What in all creation has that picture got to do with that girl Stella and the man Murchison?”

“Everything in creation,” Margot said, smiling. “I’m not accusing you of having a thing to do with the _theft_ of the radium, Mr. Stoner, but I do assert that when you wanted to get more realism into your picture, you thought it would be a fine idea to get hold of some radium. I haven’t _yet_ mastered all the details of your acquaintance with Murchison, but I know beyond all doubt, that you tried your best to get the radium _he’d_ stolen, _knowing_ he’d stolen it, which of course, makes you an accessory after the crime, Mr. Stoner.”

He worked his mouth into a twisted, scornful smile, as he said threateningly:

“You just try, young lady, making any public charge like the one you’ve just made.”

“She won’t have to! _I’ll_ do the charging--to our board of directors!” Corinne stood up and glared into his astonished eyes.

Surprise changed to insensate rage as he stared back at his star.

“You will, will you! Well, you just try it, and see where _you_ get off!”

“Oh,” she said calmly, “I expect to get off very well, thank you. I expect to get a new director for our company who won’t have to consort with crooks in order to put on pictures and make himself famous.”

“You’re crazy!” He looked a little that way himself, as his lips and hands worked convulsively. “What do you think you can prove of this girl’s wild story? Nothing--absolutely nothing!”

“Oh, yes she can, Mr. Stoner.” Margot’s voice had velvet in it, and her smile was sweeter than ever. “You seem to have forgotten that the girl Stella Ball, although deprived of one arm, thanks to the quarrel between you and Murchison, still has the perfect use of her eyes--both of them. She says she could pick you out anywhere, at a single glance. She’ll never forget you, she says.”

Lie, little Margot, lie in a good cause! Why not! It was a good and a safe card to play, for without doubt Stella _would_ recognize Stoner at a glance, even if she failed to describe him accurately. And the wild shot went straight home. Stoner seemed to crumble, morally, right before their eyes. Margot, quick to follow up an advantage, went on with quiet assurance.

“You see, Mr. Stoner, you can do one of three things. You’re really lucky to have so much to choose from, and you really owe that to me. You can make a break for the open; get out while the getting’s still good, prove--to our satisfaction--your guilt beyond question, but escape, perhaps, its penalty. Or you can face your board of directors and deny my accusations, which will enable _me_ to prove them to _every_one’s satisfaction. Or--and permit me to suggest that this last would be your wisest course--you can admit the facts to your board of directors, plead clemency, which Miss Delamar and I will also plead for you, take what’s coming to you, so far as getting out of this company is concerned, and escape the penalty of the law, also the ignominy of having other film companies hear the truth about you. I’m sure that if you make it easy for everyone concerned, your board of directors will agree to keep the story from spreading.”

Corinne’s large and expressive eyes stared at Margot with an admiration as sincere as it was obvious. Then the star turned a haughty glance of dismissal at Stoner.

“That’s about all, Fred Stoner, except that I’d like to tell you that I’m fully aware of all the lies you’ve told me, first and last, and if I do agree to do what Miss Anstruther suggests, and ask the Board to give you clemency, I want you to understand that it will be because I’d be afraid that otherwise, your vast and ridiculous conceit would imagine I was trying to wreak vengeance on you for personal reasons. And now, please go!”

He went--without another word--and Margot returned in full measure, the admiration Corinne had given her.

“That was very, very clever of you,” she said earnestly. “That last remark, I mean. I think that between us, Miss Delamar, we’ve been just a little too much for the gentleman.”

“Gentleman!” Corinne’s scorn lay too deep for humor or irony.

“Just a form of speech, my dear. And now let me tell you how very glad I am that you and I are going to be friends, as of course we shall be after this. And, by the way, could you fix it up so that I can be present at the meeting of the board of directors?”

“Certainly,” Corinne said warmly. “I wouldn’t miss having you there. In fact, it’s quite necessary that you should be. And I am glad too that we can be friends. And I’m grateful to you for showing me what an awful fool I’ve been for taking any stock in that man, or anything that he’s ever said to me.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way,” Margot said hastily. “I don’t think you’ve been a fool at all, but I didn’t want to see you in danger of being put in a false position.”

“Very nice of you to put it that way. Well, good-by!” And she took Margot’s outstretched hand in a friendly clasp of good-fellowship and trust.

And that was that, as Margot said to herself, with her ironic and characteristic manner of disposing of a situation or a problem.