The Motion Picture Director (1925)

July, 1925 and had been unsuccessful. If Claudia Carlstedt had come here, as he supposed she would do, he might have learned something of interest. But she didn’t, and that’s ail there is to that. To-morrow he would slip out of town as quietly and unnoticed as he had come into it two years before, and the death of John Morgan would remain, Indelibly written in the history of local affairs, as a suicide. Chapin had been so engrossed in his reverie that he failed to notice a messenger boy who had just entered the hotel and delivered a telegram to the clerk. The clerk signed for it and then took it over and handed it to Chapin. The latter was in the act of lighting a cigarette, and dropped the match to the floor as he received the message and studied it with considerable surprise. He glanced at the envelope. It was addressed to him, and he opened It calmly and read Its contents. It was a very brief message, dated a short time before, and said: Please come to the Morgan residence when you receive this. Mrs. John Morgan. He studied it a moment, and frowned as he looked up thoughtfully. Then he read it again, after which he rose and left the hotel, and started down the street. A few minutes later he hailed a “Vacant” taxicab. He entered it, and the car swung around and started towards the Wilshire district. (Continued in August issue) THE BARNSTORMER Continued from Page 31 my informant was Insistent and finally persuaded me to go with him so that he might prove he was right. We found the saloon doors locked, but as there was fully half an inch of space between the doors, I had no trouble In looking in. Sure enough, there were the girls standing on the bar rail with Mowrey, and a bartender behind the bar serving drinks. I rattled the door. My actor informant ran away with a fine burst of speed. The bartender came to the door and informed me that the saloon was closed for the night, but I insisted on talking to Mowrey. That gentleman came out at once and I fired him absolutely. I told him the $5 and his return ticket to Phoenix, which he already had, was all he would get, and he was through. Then I went back to the hotel, closely followed by the two girls, who very shortly called me to their room, which was right next to mine, and begged so hard for Mowrey that one of them kissed me on the cheek. My wife saw this through the keyhole and wasn’t pleased. However, I promised that I would at least talk to him. I returned to my own room and a little later went downstairs and over to the saloon across the street. The bartender, who was on the sidewalk, spoke to me, but I was an Indifferent listener, as I was trying to make up my mind what to do. Just then Mowrey came out of the saloon across from us with the rival bartender. There was considerable loud talk, and someone was being called some pretty nasty names. My bartender wanted to know if Mowrey was referring to me. There was no mistaking it. He was, for just at that moment he was telling how he had arrived in Phoenix with 30 cents in his pocket, which was worse than casting doubts on my ancestry, which he had been doing, as I gave him $7 for train expenses and had allowed him to draw almost a seventh of my bank roll. He had used a sleeper each night and had eaten his meals in the diner, while the rest of us had eaten at the stations and slept In the day coach. I think there must have been some feeling between these two saloons, as my bartender urged me to take a punch at Mowrey, who was fast increasing his personal abuse of me, and upon hearing myself called an ultra vile name, I hurried across the street and caught Mr. Mowrey on the jaw with each hand. Instead of putting up an argument, as I expected, he took what he got and whimpered. I was sorry as well as disgusted, but in the morning he was again back on the job and on his way to BIsbee. {Continued in August issue) — Wm. Horsley Film Laboratories, Inc, 6060 Sunset Boulevard Hollywood, Cal. Hollywood 7120 33