# Thubway Tham in the Movies

Extracted from Detective Story magazine, 15 June 1920, pp. 59–68.
Thubway Tham in the Movies
$^{by}$ Johnston McCulley
Author of “Carden, Crook Comedian,” etc.
THE abode of Thubway Tham was unsavory in more ways than one. It was a tumbledown two-story shack on an alley, in a part of the city where an honest man did not like to prowl around after dark. The shack had been repaired sufficiently to prevent it tumbling down upon the heads of the tenants and to satisfy the city building department, and then had been furnished, not lavishly, from second-hand stores. It was operated as a lodging house by a former burglar who pretended to have reformed, but who was engaged in commercial pursuits because he no longer was successful as a crook, owing to the introduction of modern improvements in the art and the unusual efficiency of the police.
There was a certain odor about the alley that was offensive to delicate nostrils. Inside, the rooms were small, and the halls were dark and dirty and had an odor of their own. Yet all the rooms were taken from week to week by gentlemen the majority of whom were known to the police well and unfavorably. Tenants came and tenants went, but Thubway Tham remained. He had a sort of affection for the proprietor, and the place suited him very well.
One morning Thubway Tham descended the stairs at the customary hour, to find the proprietor behind the counter, They exchanged greetings much as usual, and the proprietor launched upon a reminiscence of bygone days, when, to hear him tell it, it took courage to be a crook. Tham doubted the authenticity of some of the statements, yet they were interesting, and so he listened.
There entered from the street and came up the rickety stairs a stranger in the land. He was a huge man of aggressive appearance. His eyes seemed piercing, and he radiated self-confidence. Thubway Tham's eyes met those of his landlord for an instant and they both thought the same thing: here was some new fly cop that would have to be taught manners.
Straight to the counter the stranger stepped and smashed a hand down upon it.
“I'm looking for a pickpocket known as Thubway Tham!” he announced. “I am informed that he holes up in this joint. Where'll I find him?”
The landlord gulped and blinked his eyes rapidly. He was not eager to offend the police, for several reasons, yet he liked Thubway Tham and did not want to see him in trouble. Tham had a chance to dart down the stairs and make a get-away, but did not do so, which puzzled the landlord not a little.
“What was the name?” the landlord asked, sparring for time and wondering what Tham intended doing.
“Thubway Tham!” the stranger repeated, his voice ringing through the room and down the stairs to the busy street. “It's a peculiar name, and you'd know it if you ever heard it before. My time's worth something, so be quick with your answer.”
“If your time's worth so much, you must not be a cop,” the landlord said.
“Ah! I see! Afraid I'm a bull and want to make a pinch, are you? Nothing of the sort. Want to see this Thubway Tham on business—to his advantage.”
Thubway Tham gulped, gave the landlord a sign, and stepped forward to the stranger's side.
“I am Thubway Tham,” he said, expanding his chest. 'What ith it you with?”
“Ah!” The stranger stepped back a couple of strides and surveyed Tham from head to feet and up again. It was a scrutiny that made Tham feel a bit uncomfortable and caused him to wonder what was coming. “Just the thing!” the stranger said. “I can tell at a glance that there is no fake about you. Couldn't be better!”
“What ith it——” Tham began again.
“I want to talk business to you,” the stranger said. “I'm Walter Merrington!”
He said it proudly, a flashing look in his eyes, and Tham regarded him with wonder.
“Merrington! Walter Merrington!” the stranger repeated. He acted as though it were an affront because Thubway Tham did not fall down and worship. “Don't you know me?”
“I cannot honethtly thay that I do,” Thubway Tham stated, asking himself whether he was dealing with some sort of maniac escaped from his keepers.
“Merrington! Motion-picture director! King of the cinema! Producer of 'It Pays to Lose,' the greatest film play ever turned out by mortal man. You must have heard of me! I'm the director who always gets things correct—never any criticism on the local color in my productions.”
“Oh, yeth!” said Thubway Tham, blinking his eyes rapidly again, and wondering whether he really was ignorant or whether he should laugh at the man before him,
“I am producing a sublime spectacle that is giving me a great deal of trouble,” Merrington continued. “Thousands of people in it, and every one a type—distinct type. I had the scenario writers think of every type in America and make a list, and now I am getting a person to fit every type, and I'll put some sort of plot around the whole thing. The type's the thing.”
“My goodneth!” gasped Thubway Tham.
“I have a leading man who is a pickpocket——”
“I've heard a lot of them are,” said Tham.
“Only in the play, fellow!” Merrington roared. “In real life he wouldn't have nerve enough. I've got a leading man—confidentially—who is as handsome as the marble statue of a Greek god, and who has about as much brains. In one scene he has to pick another man's pocket, and I want him to do it right. It must look professional to the audiences.”
Tham had a moment of scorn. “Oh, yeth!” he ejaculated, sneering. “The thousandth of folkth in the audientheth will know whether it ith done right or not. They all know tho much about how a dip workth.”
“And so I have to get a man who can teach Claude—his name is Claude—the finer points of lifting a leather. I needed a first-class professional dip, and Detective Craddock, a friend of mine, said you were the best in the business.”
“He did, did he?” Thubway Tham growled. “I thuppothe that ith thome thort of compliment, but I don't know. I thought Craddock would be in thith thome plathe—the ath! If he can't pethter me one way, he doeth it another. If Craddock——”
But Mr. Merrington interrupted, presumably because his time was worth so much money.
“Let's go!” he said. “I've got a car at the corner, and we'll hustle to the ferry and go over to the lot. Hang around a few days and show Claude how to play the game. You'll be his paid instructor; he must listen to you and do as you say. You're in authority to that extent. Let's go!”
“Thay!” Tham roared. “Have I thaid that I wath goin'?”
Merrington's lower law drooped. “Is there any question about it?” he cried. “You have a chance to work with the great Merrington, and hesitate?”
“That great thtuff may be all right, but it ain't in my line,” Tham explained. “It don't butter any bread, if you athk me. Don't try to ruth me, man.”
“I see! You want details settled, do you? How much?”
“It ithn't that,” Tham protested. “The fact of the matter ith, I ain't any movie actor. I am no thethpian.”
“Thank Heaven!”
“Tho how can I act?”
“If I catch you trying to act I'll kill you with my bare hands!” Merrington promised. “I want you as a sort of assistant director for a few days. I want you to teach this handsome boob of a Claude how to pick a pocket. Understand?”
“Yeth, thir.”
“You'll just stand around until the scene comes, and then get in your fine work. Show Claude exactly how it is done. Make him do it right. Professor of pickpocketology—that's you.”
“My goodneth!” Tham gasped again.
“Salary, fifty bucks per day.”
“Oh, my dear thir——” Tham began.
“Not enough? I suppose not; you can pick that up any pleasant half hour. Very well. Expert advice comes high. Hundred bucks per day, and little work to do. Have an auto come and get you in the morning and bring you back at night.”
Tham's eyes blinked rapidly again, and the landlord almost collapsed.
“Let's go!” Merrington cried once more. “Time's valuable, you know. One thing—must promise not to work—er, professionally—over there.”
“Thir?” Tham said.
“Can't be having purses missing, or anything like that. Our ladies and gentlemen need their money—except Claude. I haven't any mercy on Claude. If you can touch him for anything from a match to a diamond stick-pin, you're welcome. Let's go!”
“Thay!” Thubway Tham gasped. “I did not thay that I would do it, did I? Maybe I wath pinthed onthe for bein' a dip, but it doeth not thtand to reathon that I am goin' to advertithe it.”
“That's all right—not hurt you a bit socially,” Merrington assured him. “All in the interest of truth and science! I've got all sorts over there. Got as fine a burglar, for instance, as there is in the country. Every time we film a burglary of any sort he superintends the job. Got a pardoned murderer, too. He just showed Claude the other day the most approved manner of choking a woman to death. You'll feel comfortable and at home.”
“Great Thcott!” Tham gasped.
“And it should be a matter of pride with you,” Merrington went on in a tempting tone. “You are a first-class dip. Some folks have the idea that a dip is some sort of a sneak thief who doesn't need to have any particular skill. Educate them, Mr. Tham! By your instruction show the great American public that it takes ability and courage to be a dip, that the work is exacting, that there must be not the slightest mistake. It is a chance to show the truth about your interesting profession. That burglar seems to think that burglary is the only real crime.”
Merrington could do one thing—he could judge human nature. He had struck Thubway Tham correctly “where he lived,” had touched his pride in his work.
“A burglar ith an ath,” Tham declared. “He taketh an unfair advantage. He thneakth in a houthe or bank when nobody ith watchin'. Now a dip hath to take an awful chanthe. He hath to work quick and be thmooth about it. He——”
“That's it,” said Merrington. “We'll show them. Let's go! Something seems to tell me that you'll have a great time with Claude. And I'll introduce you to Silvia Blosser, too.”
“Who ith Thilvia?” Tham wanted to know.
“My heavens!” Merrington gasped, hand to brow. “This man actually asks me who Silvia Blosser is. She is the star supreme, my boy. The most beautiful woman on the screen. I made her. Who is Silvia? Ye gods of the drama! Your education has been sadly neglected, Mr. Tham. Let's go!”
Thubway Tham signified that he was willing. There was something attractive about the great Merrington. He delighted Tham.
They turned toward the stairs—and found themselves confronted by some half dozen of the prettiest thugs that could have been gathered together in the city. Word had gone through the building that there was a new fly cop in the office and that he was making life miserable for Thubway Tham. The thugs hoped to intimidate him with scowls and black looks.
As Merrington charged toward the stairs, with Thubway Tham in his wake, they did not give way. The great director stopped suddenly in front of them, hands on hips, head cocked to one side, and regarded them swiftly from head to feet.
“Great!” he exclaimed. “Never saw such a set of natural, dyed-in-the-wool hobos and bums in my life. Be able to use you one of these days, boys. Gad, what a bunch of thugs!”
“Meanin' me?” one of them snarled from the corner of his mouth.
“Wonderful! Scarcely human!” Merrington went on. “Extraordinary types!”
Thubway Tham thought at that moment that his new job in the movies was gone. The thug who addressed Merrington had a reputation for strength and cruelty. Now he swung himself forward and his ugly face was within six inches of that of the director.
“Who are you to be talkin' fresh to me?” the thug demanded.
“And who are you to get upstage with me, you bum?” Merrington demanded, his eyes flashing angrily. “One side! I make and break men like you at the rate of a hundred a day!”
The thug swung a fist. Mr. Merrington sidestepped neatly and his own fist caught the thug on the point of the jaw and floored him. Then Merrington hurled himself at the others, cracked two of their heads together, and knocked a knife out of the hand of a third.
“Bums! Merrington said. “Come along, Mr. Tham. Let's go!”
Grinning gleefully, Thubway Tham went.
II.
During the journey to the studio Director Walter Merrington seemed to be deep in thought, save now and then when he roused himself to exclaim enthusiastically over some type or some location that would photograph well.
The studio reached, Thubway Tham was bewildered for a few minutes. Merrington left him in the auto with instructions to wait there, and Tham looked around him. There seemed to be half a dozen stages upon which scenes were being made. Men and women in almost every costume conceivable paraded around, awaiting the call to work. A couple of hundred “extras” sat on benches hoping an assistant director would come along and engage them.
“Great Thcott!” Tham gasped.
He knew little about the motion-picture industry, though he went to a movie theater now and then. The immensity of it surprised him. He was like a spectator at a huge extravaganza, and he liked it because of its novelty.
A man hurried up and said that Mr. Merrington wanted Mr. Tham, and would he please come along? Tham seemed to sense a note of respect in the man's tone.
Tham followed across the lot to a stage in a corner, where Merrington had gathered half a dozen actors and actresses together.
“Here he is!” the director cried. “We're going to have this scene right, believe me! Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Thubway Tham, the foremost pickpocket of the city. He fools the police. What he doesn't know about lifting a leather isn't known by mortal man. Tham, this is Miss Silvia Blosser.”
Thubway Tham turned to face a smiling divinity. Silvia Blosser was a true beauty off the stage as well as on, and little make-up was necessary. She had youth, grace, vivacity. She extended a hand to Thubway Tham, and he took it limply and muttered that he was pleased. And he was pleased. He had been introduced as a crook, yet Silvia Blosser had offered him her hand.
“And this is Claude Grallie!” Merrington said. “This is our handsome and famous leading man, whom you are to instruct in the gentle art of stealing a purse.”
Tham turned to face Claude. He never had cared particularly for the name of Claude, and Mr. Grallie was nothing to force Tham to change his mind. Claude seemed to have his head in the clouds. He was handsome enough, but Tham remembered what Merrington had said about his brains. Tham liked Merrington; he felt that the director was two-thirds bluff, but he was getting away with it. Also he felt an instant dislike for Claude, who did not offer his hand.
“Merrington,” Claude said, “I really think there is no use in this. I scarcely need instruction in stealing a purse.”
“Uthed to it?” Tham asked, and the others laughed.
“No levity, my man,” Claude warned him. “It is unseemly in one of your position.”
“Untheemly, ith it?”
“I'll handle this!” Merrington snappily told them.
“But,” said Claude, “there is nothing to stealing a purse, really. It is the lowest form of criminal endeavor. The only time it is possible to steal a man's wallet is when his mind is busy with other things and he is paying no attention to what is going on in his immediate vicinity.”
Tham's face flushed and Merrington winked at him. Oh, the silly ass! Tham thought. Nothing to stealing a purse, eh?
“Well, Claude, we'll watch you do it first, before we give you any instruction,” the director said. “There's Smith and a wallet is in his inside coat pocket. Go to it!”
Tham stepped back and watched the scene. The man Smith stood beside a table talking to Silvia Blosser, and Claude Grallie went forward and entered the conversation. There was some by-play between him and Silvia, and finally he stood close to Smith, leaning against him. The scene was continued, Smith supposedly enraged, turned toward the girl, and began a denunciation. That was the cue for Claude to steal the purse, while pretending to get Smith to leave the girl alone. Tham watched carefully. Claude got the purse, all right, and stepped back.
“That is all there is to it, Merrington,” he said. “I scarcely need this fellow to to——”
“My goodneth!” Tham gasped. “Ith that the way you would do it? Great Thcott! You'd be in the hoothgow in about theven minuteth after you thtarted to pull the trick.”
“Indeed?” Claude sneered.
“Yeth, thir!” said Tham. “How Craddock would laugh if he thaw thith!”
“Well, suppose you show us some of your cleverness,” Claude said nastily. “Being a professional, you perhaps know a trick or two.”
“Thertainly—that ith what I am here for,” Thubway Tham declared. “You—Thmith—thtart cuthin' that girl out again, and I'll act hith part. Put that wallet away firtht, and put it away good. Go ahead, now!”
Merrington, showing delight in his face, folded his arms and stood back. Smith began acting and so did Miss Blosser. Thubway Tham approached the table as he had seen Claude do, brushed against Mr. Smith, put one arm around his shoulders, and spoke a few lines to the effect that he should let the girl alone.
“Go ahead now, Tham,” Merrington ordered. “Watch him, Claude! Go ahead, Tham!”
“Thir?”
“This is where you get the wallet. Go ahead and get it.”
Thubway Tham stepped back a couple of feet and grinned.
“My goodneth!” he said. “Maybe I made a mithtake, but I am no thethpian. I got that wallet three minuteth ago.”
“What?” Smith cried. He felt in his pocket and a foolish look came into his face.
“Thertainly!” Tham said. “Here it ith!” He took the wallet from his pocket and handed it to the director, “It wath eathy. Didn't you thee how I did it?”
“We did not!” Merrington cried, “We most certainly did not. I'll say you know your business.”
“But of course it must be done so that the audience can see it on the film,” Claude objected. “The fellow may be good, Merrington, but he couldn't do that in real life.”
“Tho?” Thubway Tham said. “You thaid thomething like that a few minuteth ago, didn't you? And thinth I am paid to thow you, I did. Where ith your watch?”
Claude dived a hand toward his pocket. His watch was gone. A roar of laughter reached his ears as Thubway Tham, grinning, took the watch from his pocket, bowed, and handed it to the actor.
“Smart, aren't you?” Claude sneered. “Merrington, we'd better keep our hands on our purses while this fellow is around the lot.”
“He gave me his word he wouldn't touch anybody.”
“His word?”
“And I keep my word,” Tham declared. “You athk Detective Craddock if I don't. Mr. Merrington told me not to bother anybody but you. He thaid if I could get away with anything from you, all right. But I won't trouble to try it, I thuppothe—you're tho thmart!”
The other actors were grinning, Silvia Blosser was beaming, Merrington laughed, and Claude flushed angrily.
“No insolence, fellow!” he warned.
“And no intholenth from you or I'll thpoil your lookth!” Tham replied. “I came over here to do thertain work, and I don't intend to be pethtered. Thee? Now I'll thow you a few thingth about liftin' a leather. If you're goin' to do it you've got to do it right. In juthtith to the dipth of the land, we don't want you to go at it like a thimp or a thilly ath!”
“That's right!” Merrington put in. “All ready, folks. Show him, Mr. Tham!”
Thain advanced to Smith, but he spoke to Claude as instructor to student.
“Never go into the front of the coat,” he explained. “It will throw back the lapel and give your victim a feeling of uncomfortableneth. Then he will either glanth down, elthe reach down to thettle hith coat—and he'll catch you. Get up inthide the thide of the coat in thith manner—thee? Reach acroth the breatht and preth backward at the thame time, ath if tryin' to make him thtep back from the girl. Then a quick flip of the writht and it ith done!”
Tham did it again as he spoke.
“I'll swear I never felt the wallet leave my pocket,” Smith declared.
Merrington grinned. Claude, his face still angry, took Thubway Tham's place and tried to do as he was instructed.
“That ith nothin' like it,” Thubway Tham declared. “If I had been a cop I would have known what you wath goin' to do. Are you thuppothed to be a profethional dip in thith film, or juth an amateur?”
“He's a professional—a clever man,” Merrington explained.
“Clever, ith he? My goodneth! There will have to be a lot of rehearthalth,” Tham said.
“Wait!” Merrington smote his brow with his palm. “I'm going to change all this. Claude, we'll twist the scenario a bit and make you a perfect gentleman. The dip will be a second heavy, and we'll have Mr. Tham play it himself. He's got a screen face. We'll make yours a straight romantic part, Claude. It won't make much difference. The plot isn't much, anyway—the spectacle's the thing.”
“Me act?” Tham gasped.
“Don't try it!” Merrington shouted at the top of his voice. “You just lift a leather when I tell you, and walk across the stage when [ tell you, and forget there's a camera grinding away in front.”
“But I don't——”
“Please,” said a sweet voice at his shoulder. Tham turned to see Silvia smiling at him radiantly.
“All right!” Tham said. “Conthider that I am an actor.”
“That's all until after lunch!” Merrington said. “I want a few minutes to straighten out this change in the scenario, Tham, amuse yourself. There's the cafeteria when you get hungry!”
III.
Thubway Tham, left alone immediately as the others hurried toward their dressing rooms, did his best to amuse himself. He went to some of the other stages to watch scenes being made, he talked with some of the extras, who believed him to be one of themselves, and finally he went to the cafeteria and ate a luncheon, listening to the chatter of actors and actresses, directors and assistant directors, camera men and artistic supervisors, each loudly boasting of the accomplishments of the morning.
Leaving the cafeteria, Thubway Tham loitered around the grounds, and finally he saw Silvia Blosser in the distance, hurrying along a path between two long rows of dressing rooms. Thubway Tham saw that they would meet, and he began to feel a bit flustered. He had liked Miss Blosser at first sight, and he felt sure that the dainty star had a friendly feeling for him.
“Thhe ith a fine girl,” Thubway Tham told himself. “And thhe don't like that Claude, either. He ith a thimp, and thhe knowth it well. I am for Mith Blother.”
And then Tham caught sight of Claude, too. Claude, it was only too evident, was hurrying to intercept Miss Blosser at a point near the end of the row of dressing rooms, where they could talk without being overheard. Tham did not have time to get out of the vicinity, and the first few sentences of the conversation interested him, so he listened shamelessly.
“Silvia! Claude said. “I want to speak to you a moment.”
“It is useless, Mr. Grallie,” Silvia Blosser said. “I gave you my answer two weeks ago, and I have not changed my mind.”
“Are you sure that you know your mind?” Claude asked. “Does any pretty woman know her mind? Why not marry me? Think what we could accomplish working together.”
“We are working together now,” she said.
“But, if we could compel better contracts——”
“Mr. Grallie, there is no use continuing the discussion. I feel that my position as a star is secure. And I feel that you are gradually losing popularity. I have nothing against you personally—but you are not the type of man I can love. Isn't it true that you want to marry me to make sure that you can continue a fat contract?”
Claude's face grew red, and it was a moment before he answered.
“When a woman does not know her own mind a man should instruct her,” he said loftily, after a time. “All is fair in love. I wanted your consent, Silvia, freely. But, if I am compelled to force you to make a sensible decision——”
“Force me?” She laughed.
“That kid brother of yours,” Claude went on, “has been gambling a lot lately and losing more than he can afford—or you, either.”
“If that is true, what have you to do with it?” she asked.
“He has been playing heavily with some friends of mine and with me.”
“Well?”
“The other evening he got in pretty deep, Silvia—and he gave me a check.”
For an instant the girl's face flushed, but she stood her. ground bravely, “What about it?” she asked,
“The check happens to be a forgery, The boy knew that I knew his bank account already was overdrawn. He said he'd go out and borrow some coin. He returned in half an hour and gave a check, signed with another man's name. He simply forged it!”
“You—you——” Silvia gasped. “You led him on, got him in a hole where he did such a thing!”
“All's fair in love.”
“Lover” There was a wealth of scorn in her voice. “Well, what do you intend doing about it?”
“Ask your brother, if you do not believe me,” Claude said. “Here is the check.”
He drew a wallet from his pocket, took a check from the wallet, and showed it to her.
“Mr. Merrington's name!” she gasped.
“Yes. He copied the signature from a contract, I suppose. And you know Merrington.”
“He'd let me pay it. He wouldn't want to see me troubled just now——”
“I'm afraid he wouldn't get the chance to smooth things over,” Claude said. “If I put this check in my bank, and it comes back marked a forgery, your brother will be arrested within an hour. Even if Merrington smoothed it over afterward, it all would be in the papers.”
“You beast!” she said.
“Why the harsh words?” Claude asked, smiling. “I merely want you to marry me, Silvia. Marry me, and you get the check to destroy. Isn't that fair enough? And I'd not make such a bad husband.”
“You? Empty-headed, handsome fool! With ten thousand foolish women running after you! Before I'd marry you——”
“I'll give you until this evening to decide,” he told her. “If you promise to marry me, all right. We'll be married at the end of the week, and you can have the check. If you don't give me a favorable answer before evening, I put this check in the bank in the morning—and the fireworks begin.”
Claude returned the check to the wallet, put the wallet back in his pocket, swung on his heel, and walked away. Silvia Blosser, her face pale, leaned against the corner of the building, fighting to keep back the sobs. And before the afternoon was over she would have to do some love scenes with that brute of a man!
Thubway Tham felt sorry for her and felt anger against Claude. surging in his breast. Silvia Blosser had given him her hand and had welcomed him as an equal; Claude Grallie had attempted to treat him as dirt. And Claude, empty-headed, unscrupulous Claude, Was trying to force this divinity to marry him.
“I alwayth have made it a point to keep away from a thkirt,” Thubway Tham told himself. “But thith ith different.”
Silvia, starting to hurry away, caught sight of him. She wondered whether Tham had overheard what had passed, but he gave no sign, and so she merely smiled at him and hurried on.
Tham scratched his right ear, as he always did when puzzled over a possible course of action, and after a time made his way in the direction of the stage where Merrington waited for his people.
Some hours of nerve-wracking work ensued. Merrington was a director of the frenzied variety, who bellowed and shrieked and cursed, but always got results. Tham worked in a couple of scenes and seemed to give satisfaction. He did not linger in the vicinity of Claude, and acted as though, for him, Claude did not exist.
He watched Silvia Blosser a great deal, and now and then caught a look of anxiety and pain in the girl's face. He saw Claude whisper to her two or three times as they were making scenes, urging her to what he considered a proper decision, Tham concluded.
And then Thubway Tham made a decision. He had promised to pick no pockets at the studio, but that did not apply to Claude, as the director facetiously had said. Tham took it seriously now. Claude was trying a dark trick on Silvia, and Silvia had treated Tham with friendship.
“Thith ith one thkirt with thome thenthe,” Tham told himself. ”I would be doin' the right thing if I helped her, and it would thtop Claude from doin' hith dirty work. Tho I thall help her.”
He watched his chance and finally managed to get near a group of men of which Claude Grallie was one. They were on the stage, and Tham waited until Merrington ordered them out of the picture. As they crowded through the narrow doorway, Thubway Tham did his work, easily and without arousing suspicion.
But Tham did not care to profit by it. In a secluded place he removed the check and put it into his pocket, and then watched his chance to restore the wallet to Claude Grallie's coat. That was more difficult than getting the wallet in the first place.
It was almost time to quit work for the day when Tham finally accomplished it. When he was done, the wallet was in the same place he had found it, and its contents were the same save for the fatal forged check. Thubway Tham felt rather happy about it. He seemed to be aglow with the satisfaction that comes from a good deed done well.
He wanted to get the check into Silvia Blosser's hands, but he did not want to give it to her openly and say how he had overheard the conversation and had decided to help her. Thubway Tham had a horror of gushing thanks from a woman.
So he watched his chance, and, as they left the “set” and started for the dressing rooms, he passed close to her for an instant and slipped the check into the pocket of the little jacket she was wearing as a part of her costume.
“Good night, Mr. Tham,” she said. “How do you like working in the movies?”
“It ith all right, thankth,” Tham told her.
He hurried on to his own dressing room to remove the make-up they had put on his face. He had worn his usual clothing, instead of a particular costume, so he had no trouble with that. And soon, the glow still in his heart, he left the room and went to find the auto that Merrington had promised would carry him back home.
Tham turned a corner and almost ran into Silvia Blosser and Claude Grallie. He slowed down a bit, hoping that Claude was asking for his answer and that Silvia had found the check and would give him that answer—hot and heavy. The fair Silvia was speaking.
“Claude, I thought you were too much of a man to do the thing you threatened,” she was saying. “Perhaps I have misjudged you—perhaps you do love me. It was noble of you, Claude, to slip that check into my jacket pocket while we were working that love scene. But you were a bad boy to keep me worried all afternoon.”
Thubway Tham gasped, and Silvia failed to note the look of astonishment in Claude's face.
“Truly noble of you, Claude,” the fair Silvia said. “Come up to the bungalow for dinner this evening—do! Perhaps, Claude, I may not be so cruel as you think. There may be some hope for you, Claude!”
Thubway Tham, nauseated, hurried away toward the row of automobiles. One reflection he allowed himself.
“All thkirtth,” he mused, “are the bunk!”
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1958, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 65 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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