Дэшил Хэммет - The Collected Dashiell Hammett

“Don’t be silly,” she said with complete certainty. “You know what a push-over he is for a new face and a new line — and how soon it blows over.”

“Then the answer’s easy. Just wait it out.”

She caught her breath. “I’m afraid. I’m always afraid that this time he’ll get himself so tangled up that he won’t — maybe won’t want to get out of it.”

I thought, that would be swell. I said, “There’s nothing I can do about it, but I’ll see.”

She squeezed my arm. “Thanks, Bugs. I knew you—”

“Better wait till you see whether you’ve got anything to thank me for. Let’s go back. I’ve got a couple of hours’ work to do.”

The next day I discovered that Fred was right, Ann wrong, about Kitty Doran’s ability. Her part in the scene I watched was pretty simple and she had to be told how to do everything, but, once told, she managed to do it with a sort of fake naturalness and an aliveness that were very effective.

When they had cut, Fred came over to me. “Well?” he asked, grinning.

“Not bad,” I said. “How does she photograph?”

He laughed. “Wait till you see the rushes. Hey, Lew!” The camera man joined us. Fred said, “Bugs wants to know how Doran photographs.”

Lew said, “Easy to handle. How about a little poker tonight, Bugs?”

“If I get through in time. Maybe we’ll—”

Kitty Doran said, “Oh, hello, Mr. Parish.”

I said, “Hello.”

One of the boys handed me a telegram from Max Rhinewien:

AFTER CONSIDERATION THINK YOU RIGHT ABOUT INADVISABILITY OF CHANGING FENTON CHARACTERIZATION STOP DID YOU SEE QUOTE EAT EM ALIVE UNQUOTE QUERY SUGGEST SHOTS OF BATTLE BETWEEN SNAKES OR SPIDERS OR PERHAPS SNAKE SWALLOWING FROG AS SYMBOL OF EVIL ATTACKING GOOD STOP SEVERAL HUNDRED FEET OF BISON BEING DRIVEN THROUGH SNOW TO YELLOWSTONE WINTER QUARTERS AVAILABLE IF YOU CAN WORK IT IN STOP BEST REGARDS

I passed it over to Fred. “Betty Lee F. made her squawk stick as usual, which is all to the good.”

“That’s all to the good,” he agreed, and read the telegram. “A fine time we’d have trying to make that bum look like anything but Virtue-in-a-simple-frock! You ain’t gonna put no varmints in this yere fillum, air yuh, pardner?”

“No, suh,” I said. “I hates a snake like pison and I just ain’t got no use full buffalo. You sure you want that swimming-hole sequence we were talking about?”

“Sure. It’s a natural for Kitty.”

“O.K. I’m going back and work a while. When you get through with Danny Finn, send him over. He remembers the old Ray Griffith gags better than I do and we need some of them.”

Kitty Doran caught up to me when I was within twenty feet of my tent. “Oh, Mr. Parish, I’m so happy! Freddy says you’re going to give me a real part in the picture.”

“That depends,” I said, “on whether you can handle it.”

She looked at me wide-eyed. “But... but Freddy said I was doing fine. Was that just because — just because he likes me? Tell me what I do wrong, Mr. Parish. I’ll stop doing it. Honest, I will. Honest, I want so much to— Am I awful bad?”

“No.”

“But I’m not very good?”

“I don’t know. What I’ve seen is all right, but I haven’t seen enough yet.”

“Oh, then I think—” She laughed. “I mean I hope you’ll not be disappointed. I mean in Freddy’s opinion.” She went into the tent ahead of me. “Could you tell me what my part is?”

“It hasn’t been worked out yet. You’re probably the cut-up of the expedition. Tomorrow you sneak off to go swimming and are surrounded by Indians or cavalrymen or something and can’t get to your clothes — that kind of junk.”

“I think that’s fine,” she said.

I let that go at that.

“You’re a friend of Ann Meadows, aren’t you?” she asked. “I saw you with her last night.”

“Yes.”

“She hates me, doesn’t she?”

“She’s in love with Fred.”

“I know, but it’s not my fault that he likes me.”

“She thinks it is. She thinks you’re stringing him along for a break in the pictures.”

“Well, what of it?” she demanded. “Didn’t he give her her first break?”

“Maybe, but she happens to be in love with him.”

“Well, I like him very much too.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

She stood in front of me and her lower lip trembled. “I guess you think I’m a dirty little tramp, Mr. Parish, but, honest, I want so bad to make good in pictures that I guess I’d do anything to get a break.”

“Could I count on that?”

“You’re making fun of me,” she said, “but yes.”

“That’s honest, anyhow. Now run along: I’ve got to work.”

“But—”

“Scram. I’ve got to work.”

She laughed and held out her hand. “I like you. Can I call you — your first name’s Chauncey, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh, but you don’t know me well enough to call me that. Make it Bugs.”

“Bugs,” she said, “and thanks.”

I thought about her for a couple of minutes after she had gone and then settled down to the typewriter. A page and a half later Ann came in.

“Don’t stop,” she said. “I don’t want to interrupt you.” She sat down and lit a cigarette. Her face was red and angry.

“That’s all right,” I told her. “What’s the matter?”

“Mr. LePage and I have just had a row. He accused me of sulking in front of the camera, so I told him what I thought of him and walked off the set.”

“After all,” I reminded her, “we are making a picture.”

“I don’t give a damn about the picture.”

“That’s not the spirit of Pagliacci. The show must go on though our hearts—”

She dropped her cigarette on the floor and stamped on it. “Cut it out. Bugs. I don’t feel like kidding. I’m sick. You know what she did?”

“Kitty?”

“Yes. She told him I was trying to persuade you not to fatten her part up any more than you had to.”

“That’s true in a way, isn’t it?” I asked.

She looked at me suspiciously. “It is not. I never— You didn’t tell her that?”

“No. You’re being a chump, Ann.”

“I suppose I am,” she said gloomily, “but who cares? I ought to—” She broke off as Danny Finn came in, said, “Hello, Danny; be seeing you, Bugs,” and went out.

Danny smacked his lips. “I could go for that dame. I got a swell Indian gag, Bugs. Listen to this.”

I listened and said, “No, Groucho would be sore. He used that in Duck Soup.”

“But there’s no Indians in Duck Soup.”

“The gag’s the same. I want something for a swimming-hole sequence we’re using Kitty Doran in.”

“Doran, huh?” He smacked his lips. “I could go for that dame. How about this? Eddie Sutherland used it in one of the Oakie pictures.” He described it to me.

“Yes, maybe we can kick that around, but cut out the double-wing-and-scram on the end. Now let’s see what else we can dig up.”

We had five more gags — two early Sennetts, a Chaplin, one from As Thousands Cheer, and one that practically everybody had used — by the time Fred came in from his day’s work afield. Betty Lee Fenton and Kitty Doran were with him.

Betty Lee paused at the door only long enough to ask. “You heard from Max?”

“Sure,” I said. “Your virginity’s safe.”

“I thought it would be,” she said and went away.

Danny, looking after her, automatically smacked his lips and muttered, “I could go for...”

Fred asked, “What’ve you guys got?” and, when we told him our six gags, said, “I guess they’ll do.”

Danny went away.

Fred yawned and spread himself on my cot. “Ann tell you about the blow-up?”