rs。 Patterson's sake； and was relieved when she accepted it without question that night。
Later he tested the handful of silver that remained to him and prayed earnestly that an increase of prosperity be granted to producers of the motion picture。 With the silver he eked out another barren week； only to face a day the evening of which must witness another fiscal transaction with Mrs。 Patterson。 And there was no longer a bill for this heartless society creature。 He took a long look at the pleasant little room as he left it that morning。 The day must bring something but it might not bring him back that night。
At the drug store he purchased a bowl of vegetable soup； loaded it heavily with catsup at intervals when the attendant had other matters on his mind； and seized an extra halfportion of crackers left on their plate by a satiated neighbour。 He cared little for catsup； but it doubtless bore nourishing elements； and nourishment was now important。 He crumpled his paper napkin and laid upon the marble slab a trifling silver coin。 It was the last of his hoard。 When he should eat next and under what circumstances were now as uncertain as where he should sleep that night； though he was already resolving that catsup would be no part of his meal。 It might be well enough in its place； but he had abundantly proved that it was not； strictly speaking； a food。
He reached the Holden studios and loitered outside for half an hour before daring the daily inquiry at the window。 Yet； when at last he did approach it； his waning faith in prayer was renewed； for here in his direst hour was cheering news。 It seemed even that his friend beyond the window had been impatient at his coming。
〃Just like you to be late when there's something doing！〃 she called to him with friendly impatience。 〃Get over to the dressing rooms on the double…quick。 It's the Victor people doing some Egyptian stuff they'll give you a costume。 Hurry along！〃
And he had lingered over a bowl of soggy crackers soaked； at the last； chiefly in catsup！ He hurried； with a swift word of thanks。
In the same dressing room where he had once been made up as a Broadway pleasure seeker he now donned the flowing robe and burnoose of a Bedouin； and by the same grumbling extra his face and hands were stained the rich brown of children of the desert。 A dozen other men of the paler race had undergone the same treatment。 A sheik of great stature and noble mien smoked an idle cigarette in the doorway。 He was accoutred with musket and with pistols in his belt。
An assistant director presently herded the desert men down an alley between two of the big stages and to the beginning of the oriental street that Merton had noticed on his first day within the Holden walls。 It was now peopled picturesquely with other Bedouins。 Banners hung from the walls and veiled ladies peeped from the latticed balconies。 A camel was led excitingly through the crowded way； and donkeys and goats were to be observed。 It was a noisy street until a whistle sounded at the farther end； then all was silence while the voice of Henshaw came through the megaphone。
It appeared that long shots of the street were Henshaw's first need。 Up and down it Merton Gill strolled in a negligent manner； stopping perhaps to haggle with the vendor who sold sweetmeats from a tray； or to chat with a tribal brother fresh from the sandy wastes； or to purchase a glass of milk from the man with the goats。 He secured a rose from the flower seller； and had the inspiration to toss it to one of the discreet balconies above him； but as he stepped back to do this he was stopped by the watchful assistant director who stood just inside a doorway。 〃Hey； Bill； none of that！ Keep your head down； and pay no attention to the dames。 It ain't done。〃
He strolled on with the rose in his hand。 Later； and much nearer the end of the street where the cameras were； he saw the sheik of noble mien halt the flower seller； haggle for another rose； place this daintily behind his left ear and stalk on； his musket held over one shoulder； his other hand on a belted pistol。 Merton disposed of his rose in the same manner。 He admired the sheik for his stature； his majestic carriage； his dark； handsome； yet sinister face with its brooding eyes。 He thought this man； at least； would be a true Arab； some real son of the desert who had wandered afar。 His manner was so much more authentic than that of the extra people all about。
A whistle blew and the street action was suspended。 There was a long wait while cameras were moved up and groups formed under the direction of Henshaw and his assistant。 A band of Bedouins were now to worship in the porch of a mosque。 Merton Gill was among these。 The assistant director initiated them briefly into Moslem rites。 Upon prayer rugs they bowed their foreheads to earth in the direction of Mecca。
〃What's the idea of this here？〃 demanded Merton Gill's neighbour in aggrieved tones。
〃Ssh！〃 cautioned Merton。 〃It's Mass or something like that。〃 And they bent in unison to this noon…tide devotion。
When this was done Henshaw bustled into the group。 〃I want about a dozen or fifteen good types for the cafe；〃 he explained to his assistant。 Merton Gill instinctively stood forward； and was presently among those selected。 〃You'll do；〃 said Henshaw； nodding。 The director； of course； had not remembered that this was the actor he had distinguished in The Blight of Broadway； yet he had again chosen him for eminence。 It showed； Merton felt； that his conviction about the screen value of his face was not ill founded。
The selected types were now herded into a dark； narrow； low…ceiled room with a divan effect along its three walls。 A grizzled Arab made coffee over a glowing brazier。 Merton Gill sat cross…legged on the divan and became fearful that he would be asked to smoke the narghileh which the assistant director was now preparing。 To one who balked at mere cigarettes； it was an evil…appearing device。 His neighbour who had been puzzled at prayer…time now hitched up his flowing robe to withdraw a paper of cigarettes from the pocket of a quite occidental garment。
〃Go on； smoke cigarettes；〃 said the assistant director。
〃Have one？〃 said Merton's neighbour； and he took one。 It seemed you couldn't get away from cigarettes on the screen。 East and West were here one。 He lighted it； though smoking warily。 The noble sheik； of undoubtedly Asiatic origin； came to the doorway overlooking the assistant director's work on the narghileh。 A laden camel halted near him； sneered in an evil manner at the bystanders； and then； lifting an incredible length of upper lip； set his yellow teeth in the nearest shoulder。 It was the shoulder of the noble sheik； who instantly rent the air with a plaintive cry： 〃For the love of Mike！keep that man…eater off'n me； can't you？〃
His accent had not been that of the Arabian waste…land。 Merton Gill was disappointed。 So the fellow was only an actor； after all。 If he had felt sympathy at all； it would now have been for the camel。 The beast was jerked back with profane words and the sheik； rubbing his bitten shoulder； entered the cafe； sitting cross…legged at the end of the divan nearest the door。
〃All right； Bob。〃 The assistant director handed him the tube of the water pipe； and the sheik smoked with every sign of enjoyment。 Merton Gill resolved never to play the part of an Arab sheikat the mercy of man…eating camels and having to smoke something that looked murderous。
Under Henshaw's direction the grizzled proprietor now served tiny cups of coffee to the sheik and his lesser patrons。 Two of these played dominoes； and one or two reclined as in sleep。 Cameras were brought up。 The interior being to his satisfaction； Henshaw rehearsed the entrance of a little band of European tourists。 A beautiful girl in sports garb； a beautiful young man in khaki and puttees； a fine old British father with gray side whiskers shaded by a sun…hat with a flowing veil twined about it。 These people sat and were served coffee； staring in a tourist manner at their novel surroundings。 The Bedouins； under stern command； ignored them； conversing among themselves over their coffeeall but the sheik。
The sheik had been instantly struck by the fair young English girl。 His sinister eyes hung constantly upon her； shifting only when she regarded him； furtively returning when she ceased。 When they left the cafe； the sheik arose and placed himself partly in the girl's way。 She paused while his dark eyes caught and held hers。 A long moment went before she seemed able to free herself from the hypnotic tension he put upon her。 Then he bowed low； and the girl with a nervous laugh passed him。
It could be seen that the sheik meant her no good。 He stepped to the door and looked after the group。 There was evil purpose in his gaze。
Merton Gill recalled something of Henshaw's words the first day he had eaten at the cafeteria： 〃They find this deserted tomb just at nightfall； and he's alone there with the girl； and he could do anything； but the kick for the audience is that he's a gentleman and never lays a finger on her。〃
This would be the story。 Probably the sheik would now arrange with the old gentleman in the sun…hat to guide the party over the desert； and would