CHAPTER V

A NEW STAR

Layton Boardman was fine looking, far better looking than he appeared on the screen. He had one of those faces that appeal to the imagination, usually immobile and inscrutable, yet capable of a surprising play of expression when aroused emotionally. He had black hair and dark gray, rather long eyes, deep set in his head and adding to the inscrutable expression of his face when at rest. If it had not been for his flashing and utterly friendly smile one might almost have been afraid of Layton Boardman.

A wonderful face, a splendid personality for the hero of her western drama--a screen strong man who was as strong off the screen as on!

Something surged up in Ruth--exultation at having secured such a prize. Then fear gripped her again. Suppose he should refuse her offer--want more than she was prepared to pay? Well, she would soon put that question to the test.

“It was nice of you to come so quickly. The fact is,” she faced him with her frank smile, “I was wondering whether you were free to accept an offer from the Fielding Film Company.”

Boardman made a wry grimace.

“I am certainly at liberty,” he said grimly. “So much so,” with his quick smile, “that I long for bonds again!”

“Then I hope I shall be the one to slip them on.” Ruth was again at her ease. Something told her that she and Layton Boardman would get on.

She fingered some of the papers on her desk, looked from them to Boardman.

“I have a new script here and I need just such a man as you to take the lead. I don’t mind admitting,” she looked across at him with a quizzical smile, “that I had you in mind when I wrote the story.”

“That is about the nicest thing I ever had said to me,” he told her. “I hope more than I can tell you that I will be able to live up to that compliment.”

“You’re sure you’re perfectly free? No loose strings that might get tangled up in the midst of the story and spoil the whole thing?”

“Not a string!” said Boardman.

“Then listen to me and see if we can come to terms. We haven’t any time to lose, for I’m anxious to keep my company together and start for Montana in two weeks at the outside.”

There followed a surprisingly short business conference, during which the two young people seemed to find it very easy to agree on everything.

Ruth felt excited and very much pleased with herself. She had done a good morning’s work. She had not dreamed she would be able to procure the services of Layton Boardman at so low a price and--this after she had twice glanced up to find his eyes fixed broodingly upon her--he would certainly make a very pleasant addition to the company.

Ruth heard Tom enter unceremoniously, heard his familiar whistle and his affectionate greeting of Aunt Alvirah. She called to him and checked young Boardman when he rose to go.

“I want you to meet my partner, Tom Cameron,” she explained. “His signature will be very necessary on the contract.”

Tom hesitated in the doorway, taking in the tableau presented. His next emotion was annoyance. It would be enough to annoy any young fellow to find Layton Boardman, good looks and magnetism apparent even to a man, in private conference with the girl he was--well, was fond of.

Ruth caught the expression on Tom’s face and tried to keep her vivid face straight as she explained hurriedly.

“Glad to see you, Boardman,” Tom said then, extending his hand. Boardman clasped it heartily. “I have an idea I can feel contracts in the air. Ah--” as Ruth thrust into his hands the agreement she and Boardman had drawn up. “Let me see--”

His very palpable hesitation seemed funny to Ruth. Tom always left the signing up of new actors to her judgment. He had often declared that she knew far more than he concerning such things. He had never made a fuss about anything like this. Was he going to start now?

As his hesitation continued Ruth became really uneasy. When he finally, though somewhat reluctantly it seemed, gave his approval, she drew a deep breath of relief.

As soon as the business was over with three signatures signed to the contract and Aunt Alvirah’s added as a witness, Layton Boardman took his departure. He had, it seemed, important matters to attend to in town and he left the Red Mill despite Aunt Alvirah’s hospitable urging that he stay and have a bite of lunch with them.

Long after the door had closed upon the new member of Ruth’s company Tom remained silent and thoughtful. Ruth tried to start a conversation with him, for she was full of excitement and pleasure over what she considered a triumph. But when he failed to respond to her advances she finally retired to her study, leaving Tom to his own devices.

She had scarcely had time to become engrossed in her work again, however, before a shadow fell across her page and she looked up to find Tom glooming in the doorway. Ruth tapped her pencil on the edge of the desk in helpless exasperation.

“What is wrong with you, Tom Cameron?” she cried. “You look as if you had lost your last friend and never expected to make another. What in the world _is_ the matter?”

“I don’t like that fellow, Boardman,” said Tom, frowning. “He’s too good looking to be honest.”

Ruth gave a gay little laugh.

“Layton Boardman has a reputation for honesty----”

“Oh, I suppose he has all the virtues in the pack!” Tom was almost barking at her in his irritation. “The good looking ones can get away with anything. How about that row he had with Sol Bloomberg?”

A shadow crossed Ruth’s face. Sol Bloomberg was the lone fly in the ointment of her content. She had been trying to forget Sol Bloomberg. But now she shrugged her shoulders, trying to make the gesture nonchalant.

“Knowing Sol Bloomberg, I prefer to think the fault was his,” she said.

“I think so, too,” said Tom with native honesty. “But there are two sides to every question, you know, and there is always the chance that Boardman’s side wasn’t a pleasant one. Then, too,” his gravity deepened, “if there wasn’t anything more to it than a question of Bloomberg’s enmity, it would be worth considering--and hesitating over. Bloomberg isn’t going to be very happy when he learns that we’ve signed up his star at a good salary.”

“His ex-star,” Ruth reminded him.

“Ex-star or not, Bloomberg wants Layton Boardman, and if I know anything of the man in question, he’ll get Boardman, no matter how many promising young moving picture concerns he has to trample over in the process.”

“But do you suppose,” Ruth flamed at him, “I intend to let a chance like this slip simply because I’m afraid of Sol Bloomberg?”

“A great many people, both powerful and wise, have been afraid of Sol Bloomberg,” retorted Tom and, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, strode from the room.

Ruth tried in vain to coax back her mood of the early morning. But try as she would, it would not come. Tom had effectually destroyed all her enthusiasm with his talk of Sol Bloomberg. The worst of it was, Ruth admitted, that his viewpoint was a reasonable one. The owner of Palatial Films would be furious over her capture of Boardman, and Bloomberg was not a man to swallow his anger.

With an impatient movement she began to gather up her scattered papers when Helen Cameron and Jennie Marchand, arms about each other in old-time style, charged in at the front door.

“Ruthie! Ruthie Fielding, where are you?” called Helen. “I have the very most elegant news you ever listened to! Let me tell it, else I die!”