“He means sue the company,” Martinson retorted grimly.  “That clause in the contract where we agree to produce his stories in a manner befitting the quality and fame of these several stories in fiction; he’s got grounds for action there, and he’s going to make the most of it.  He’s sore, anyway.  Some one’s been telling him he practically made us a present of his stuff.”

“Hell!” said Luck.  “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Why didn’t you say that you were turning that stuff into farce-comedy?” Martinson came back sharply.  “I could have told you it wouldn’t get by.  I knew Brown wouldn’t stand for anything like that; and I knew he could put the gaff into us on that ‘manner befitting’ clause.”

“It’s a wonder you wouldn’t have jarred loose from some of that wisdom,” Luck observed tartly.  “You never gave me any dope at all on this Bently Brown person.  You handed me the junk he stung you on—­and believe me, as drama he’d have stung you with it as a present!—­you handed it to me to film.  I made the most of it.”

“You made a mess of it,” Martinson corrected peevishly.

“You laughed,” Luck pointed out laconically.  Then his eyes twinkled suddenly. “‘Laugh and the world laughs with you,’” he quoted shamelessly, and took a long, satisfying suck at his cigar.

“The world won’t step up and pay damages to Bently Brown,” Martinson reminded him, “if that picture is released as it stands.  How many have you made, so far?”

“I’m finishing the third; getting funnier, too, as they go along.”

“You’ve got to cut out that funny business.  You’ll have to retake this whole thing, Luck; make it straight drama.  We can’t afford a lawsuit, these hard times—­and injunctions tying up the releases, and damages to pay when the thing’s thrashed out in court.  You’ll have to retake this whole picture.  Nice bunch of useless expense, I must say, when I’ve been chasing nickels off the expense account of this company and sitting up nights nursing profits!  We’ll have to cut salaries now, to break even on this fluke.  I’ve left the payroll alone so far.  That’s the worst of a break like this.  The whole company has got to pay for every blunder from now on.”

Luck’s eyes hardened while he listened.  He did not call his work a blunder, and the charge did not sit well coming from another.

“Buy off Bently Brown,” he advised crisply.  “Offer him a new contract, naming this stuff as comedy.  Advertise them as the famous comedies of Bently Brown, the well-known author.  Show him some good publicity dope along that line.  Give him the credit of making the stories live ones.  This series will be a money-maker, and a big one, if ever they reach the screen.  You’re old enough in the business to know that, Mart.  You saw how this film hit the bunch, and you know what it takes to rouse any enthusiasm in the projection room.  And take it from me, Mart—­this is straight!—­that’s the only way