Clayton shook his head. 'I never forget.'
The young man shrugged and smiled. 'Pardon me, but nevertheless I recognized you. Here on business?' He was unembarrassed and unabashed.
'Merely to see Hollywood,' replied Clayton. 'I have heard so much about it that I wished to see it.'
'Got a lot of friends here, I suppose.'
'No one knows me here.'
'Perhaps I can be of service to you,' suggested the young man. 'I am an old timer here—been here two years. Nothing to do—glad to show you around. My name is Reece.'
Clayton considered for a moment. He had come to see Hollywood. A guide might be helpful. Why not this young man as well as some one else? 'It is kind of you,' he said.
'Well, then, how about a little lunch? I suppose you would like to see some of the motion picture celebrities —they all do.'
'Naturally!' admitted Clayton. 'They are the most interesting denizens of Hollywood.'
'Very well! We'll go to the Brown Derby. You'll see a lot of them there.'
As they alighted from a taxi in front of the Brown Derby, Clayton saw a crowd of people lined up on each side of the entrance. It reminded him of the crowds he had seen at the station welcoming the famous Balza.
'They must be expecting a very important personage,' he said to Reece.
'Oh, these boobs are here every day,' replied the young man.
The Brown Derby was crowded—well groomed men, beautifully gowned girls. There was something odd in the apparel, the ornaments, or the hair dressing of each, as though each was trying to out-do the others in attracting attention to himself. There was a great deal of chattering and calling back and forth between tables: 'How ah you?'
'How mahvel-lous you look!'
'How ah you?'
'See you at the Chinese tonight?'
'How ah you?'
Reece pointed out the celebrities to Clayton. One or two of the names were familiar to the stranger, but they all looked so much alike and talked so much alike, and said nothing when they did talk, that Clayton was soon bored. He was glad when the meal was over. He paid the check, and they went out.
'Doing anything this evening?' asked Reece.
'I have nothing planned.'
'Suppose we go to the premiere of Balza's latest picture. Soft Shoulders, at the Chinese. I have a ticket; and I know a fellow who can get you one, but it will probably cost you twenty-five smackers.' He eyed Clayton questioningly.
'Is it something that I ought to see if I am to see Hollywood?'
'Absolutely!'
A glare of lights illuminated the front of Grauman's Chinese Theater and the sky above, twenty thousand people milled and pushed and elbowed in Hollywood Boulevard, filling the street from building line to building line, a solid mass of humanity blocking all traffic. Policemen shouldered and sweated. Street cars were at a standstill. Clayton and Reece walked from The Roosevelt through the surging crowd.
As they approached the theater Clayton heard loud speakers broadcasting the arrival of celebrities who had left their cars two or three blocks away and forced their way through the mob to the forecourt of the theater.
The forecourt of the theater was jammed with spectators and autograph seekers. Several of the former had brought chairs; many had been sitting or standing there since morning that they might be assured of choice vantage spots from which to view the great ones of filmdom's capital.
As Clayton entered the forecourt, the voice of Freeman Lang was filling the boulevard from the loud speakers. 'The celebrities are coming thick and fast now. Naomi Madison is just getting out of her car—and there's her new husband with her, the Prince Mudini. And here comes the sweetest little girl, just coming into the forecourt now. It's Balza herself! I'll try to get her to say something to you. Oh,' Sweetheart, come over here. My, how gorgeous you're looking tonight. Won't you say just a word to all your friends of the air? Right over here, please, dear.'
A dozen autograph pests were poking pencils and books toward Balza, but she quieted them with her most seductive smile and approached the microphone.
'Hello, everybody!' she lisped. 'I wish you were all here. It's simply mahvellous. I'm so happy to be back in Hollywood.'
Clayton smiled enigmatically, the crowd in the street roared its applause, and Freeman turned to greet the next celebrity. 'And here comes—well, he can't get through the crowd. Honestly, folks, this crowd is simply tremendous. We've officiated at a lot of premieres, but we've never seen anything like this. The police can't hold 'em back. They're crowding right up here on top of the microphone. Yes, here he comes! Hello, there, Jimmie! Right over here. The folks want to hear from you. This is Jimmie Stone, second assistant production manager of the B.O. Studio, whose super feature, Soft Shoulders, is being premiered here tonight in Grauman's Chinese Theater.'
'Hello, efferybody. I wish you was all here. It's simply marvellous. Hello, Momma!'
'Let's go inside,' suggested Clayton.
'Well, Clayton, how did you like the picture?' asked Reece.
'The acrobats in the prologue were splendid,' replied the Englishman.
Reece looked a little crestfallen. Presently he brightened. 'I'll tell you what we'll do,' he announced. 'I'll get hold of a couple more fellows and we'll go to a party.'
'At this time of night?'
'Oh, it's early. There's Billy Brouke now. Hi, there, Billy! Say, I want you to meet Mr. Clayton, an old friend of mine from London. Mr. Clayton, this is Billy Brouke. How about a little party, Billy?'
'O.K. by me! We'll go in my car; it's parked around the corner.'
On a side street near Franklin they climbed into a flashy roadster. Brouke drove west a few blocks on Franklin and then turned up a narrow street that wound into the hills.
Clayton was troubled. 'Perhaps your friends may not be pleased if you bring a stranger,' he suggested.
Reece laughed. 'Don't worry,' he admonished; 'they'll be as glad to see you as they will be to see us.'
That made Brouke laugh, too. 'I'll say they will,' he commented.
Presently they came to the end of the street. 'Hell!' muttered Brouke and turned the car around. He turned into another street and followed that for a few blocks; then he turned back toward Franklin.
'Forgotten where your friends live?' asked Clayton.
On a side street in an otherwise quiet neighborhood they sighted a brilliantly lighted house in front of which several cars were parked; laughter and the sounds of radio music were coming from an open window.
'This looks like the place,' said Reece.
'It is,' said Brouke with a grin, and drew up at the curb.
A Filipino opened the door in answer to their ring. Reece brushed in past him, and the others followed. A man and a girl were sitting on the stairs leading to the upper floor. They were attempting to kiss one another ardently without spilling the contents of the cocktail glasses they held. They succeeded in kissing one another, paying no attention to the newcomers.
To the right of the reception hall was a large living room in which several couples were dancing to the radio music; others were sprawled about on chairs and divans; all were drinking. There was a great deal of laughter.
'The party's getting good,' commented Brouke, as he led the way into the living room. 'Hello, everybody!' he cried. 'Where's the drinks? Come on, boys!' and he started for the back of the house, doing a little dance step on the way.
A middle-aged man, greying at the temples, rose from a divan and approached Reece. There was a puzzled expression on his face. 'I don't believe—' he started, but Brouke interrupted him.
'It's all right, old man!' he exclaimed. 'Sorry to be late. Shake hands with Mr. Reece and Mr. Clayton of London. How about a little drink?' and without waiting for an answer he headed for the kitchen. Reece and the host followed him, but Clayton hesitated. He had failed to note any exuberant enthusiasm in the attitude of the greying man whom he assumed to be the master of the house.
A tall blond, swaying a little, approached him. 'Haven't I met you somewhere before, Mr.—ah?'
