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 and it continued with a parody on the celebrated song of the marines which began, You're in the movies now. Evidently no sympathy was to be expected from this quarter. At the time the message arrived, however, Ambrose was so completely bewildered that its import did not sink deeply into his consciousness.

He had not known where he was going or why he was going there, but whatever small amount of will he had ever possessed had completely deserted him on this occasion. Herbert Ringrose had continued to talk plausibly in terms which conveyed nothing whatever to Ambrose's mind. So, almost without being aware of it, he had committed himself, and ruefully as he now surveyed his situation he was obliged to confess to himself that it might be worse. They would, he assured himself, discover in short order that he was useless for their enigmatic purposes and ship him away from Hollywood or forget about him so that he might escape. In two or three days, he encouraged himself to believe as he gazed at the sunlit palms on Imperia Starling's lawn, they will see their mistake and permit me to go back to Santa Fe.

Unfortunately for his peace of mind, he was quite unable to dismiss so lightly the affair of Miss