“Leave us,” he said.  “We would be alone.  I want to have a little business-talk with Mr. Gossett.”  He turned to the movie-magnate, who was gradually emerging from the fruit-salad rather after the manner of a stout Venus rising from the sea.  “Can you spare me a moment of your valuable time?”

“I’ll have him arrested!”

“Don’t you do it, laddie.  Listen!”

“The man’s mad.  Throwing pies!”

Archie attached himself to his coat-button.

“Be calm, laddie.  Calm and reasonable!”

For the first time Mr. Gossett seemed to become aware that what he had been looking on as a vague annoyance was really an individual.

“Who the devil are you?”

Archie drew himself up with dignity.

“I am this gentleman’s representative,” he replied, indicating the Sausage Chappie with a motion of the hand.  “His jolly old personal representative.  I act for him.  And on his behalf I have a pretty ripe proposition to lay before you.  Reflect, dear old bean,” he proceeded earnestly.  “Are you going to let this chance slip?  The opportunity of a lifetime which will not occur again.  By Jove, you ought to rise up and embrace this bird.  You ought to clasp the chappie to your bosom!  He has thrown pies at you, hasn’t he?  Very well.  You are a movie-magnate.  Your whole fortune is founded on chappies who throw pies.  You probably scour the world for chappies who throw pies.  Yet, when one comes right to you without any fuss or trouble and demonstrates before your very eyes the fact that he is without a peer as a pie-propeller, you get the wind up and talk about having him arrested.  Consider! (There’s a bit of cherry just behind your left ear.) Be sensible.  Why let your personal feeling stand in the way of doing yourself a bit of good?  Give this chappie a job and give it him quick, or we go elsewhere.  Did you ever see Fatty Arbuckle handle pastry with a surer touch?  Has Charlie Chaplin got this fellow’s speed and control.  Absolutely not.  I tell you, old friend, you’re in danger of throwing away a good thing!”

He paused.  The Sausage Chappie beamed.

“I’ve aways wanted to go into the movies,” he said.  “I was an actor before the war.  Just remembered.”

Mr. Brewster attempted to speak.  Archie waved him down.

“How many times have I got to tell you not to butt in?” he said, severely.

Mr. Gossett’s militant demeanour had become a trifle modified during Archie’s harangue.  First and foremost a man of business, Mr. Gossett was not insensible to the arguments which had been put forward.  He brushed a slice of orange from the back of his neck, and mused awhile.

“How do I know this fellow would screen well?” he said, at length.