Vile Bodies

to health. I tell you, this is going to make film history. D’you know what the Wesleyan population of the British Isles is? Well nor do I, but I’ve been told and you’d be surprised. Well every one of those is going to come and see this film and there’s going to be discussions about it in all the chapels. We’re recording extracts from Wesley’s sermons and we’re singing all his own hymns. I’m glad your paper’s interested. You can tell them from me that we’re on a big thing.⁠ ⁠… There’s one thing though,” said Mr. Isaacs, suddenly becoming confidential, “which I shouldn’t tell many people. But I think you’ll understand because you’ve seen some of our work here and the sort of scale it’s on, and you can imagine that expenses are pretty heavy. Why, I’m paying Miss La Touche alone over ten pounds a week. And the truth is⁠—I don’t mind telling you⁠—we’re beginning to feel the wind a bit. It’s going to be a big success when and if it’s finished. Now, suppose there was someone⁠—yourself, for instance, or one of your friends⁠—who had a little bit of loose capital he wanted to invest⁠—a thousand pounds, say⁠—well, I wouldn’t mind selling him a half-share. It’s not a gamble, mind⁠—it’s a certain winner. If I cared to go into the open market with it, it would be snapped up before you could say knife. But I don’t want to do that and I’ll tell you why. This is a British company and I don’t want to let any of those foreign speculators in on it, and once you let the shares get into the open market you can’t tell who’s buying them, see. Now why leave money idle bringing in four and a half or five percent when you might be doubling it in six months?”

“I’m afraid it’s no use coming to me for capital,” said Adam. “Do you think I could possibly see Colonel Blount?”

“One of the things I hate in life,” said Mr. Isaacs, “is seeing anyone lose an opportunity. Now listen, I’ll make you a fair offer. I can see you’re interested in this film. Now I’ll sell you the whole thing⁠—film we’ve made up to date, artists’ contracts, copyright of scenario, everything for five hundred quid. Then all you have to do is to finish it off and your fortune’s made and I shall be cursing for not having held on longer. How about it?”

“It’s very good of you, but really I don’t think I can afford it at the moment.”

“Just as you like,” said Mr. Isaacs airily. “There’s many who can who’d jump at the offer, only I thought I’d let you in on it first because I could see you were a smart kid.⁠ ⁠… Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll let you have it for four hundred. Can’t say fairer than that, can I? And wouldn’t do it for anyone but you.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Isaacs, but I didn’t come to buy your film. I came to see Colonel Blount.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have thought you were the sort of chap to let an opportunity like that slip through your fingers. Now I’ll give you one more chance and after that mind, the offer is closed. I’ll sell you it for three-fifty. Take it or leave it. That’s my last word. Of course, you’re not in any way obliged to buy,” said Mr. Isaacs rather haughtily, “but I assure you that you’ll regret it from the bottom of your heart if you don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” said Adam, “I think it’s a wonderfully generous offer, but the truth is I simply don’t want to buy a film at all.”

“In that case,” said Mr. Isaacs, “I shall return to my business.”

Not till sunset did the Wonderfilm Company of Great Britain rest. Adam watched them from the lawn. He saw the two fencing instructors in long black coats and white neck bands lunging and parrying manfully until one of them fell; then the cameras stopped and his place was taken by the leading actor (who had been obliged through the exigencies of the wardrobe to lend his own coat). Whitefield took the place (and the wig) of the victor and fled to the coach. Effie La Touche appeared from the shrubbery still defiantly carrying her hunting crop. Closeups followed of Effie and Wesley and Effie and Wesley together. Then Colonel Blount and another super appeared as yokels and carried the wounded preacher back to the house. All this took a long time as the action was frequently held up by minor mishaps and once when the whole scene had been triumphantly enacted the chief cameraman found that he had forgotten to put in a new roll of film (“Can’t think how I come to make a mistake like that, Mr. Isaacs”). Finally the horses were taken out of the coach and mounted by grenadiers and a few shots taken of them plunging despairingly up the main drive.

“Part of Butcher Cumberland’s army,” explained Mr. Isaacs. “It’s always good to work in a little atmosphere like that. Gives more educational value. Besides we hire the horses by the day so we might as well get all we can out of them while they’re here. If we don’t use ’em in Wesley we can fit ’em in somewhere else. A hundred foot or so of galloping horses is always useful.”

When everything was over Adam managed to see Colonel Blount, but it was not a satisfactory interview.

“I’m afraid I’ve really got very little time to spare,” he said. “To tell you the truth, I’m at work on a scenario of my own. They tell me you come from the Excess and want to write about the film. It’s a glorious film, isn’t it? Of course, you know, I have very little to do with it really. I have let them the house and have acted one or two small parts in the crowd. I don’t have to pay for them