"How do you like them, Rina?"
She stared down at the pictures.
A sick feeling began to come up into her throat.
This could not be her. Not like this. Nude. With that woman and those men.
She looked up at them helplessly.
The count was smiling.
"I should have done better," he said apologetically. "But I think there was something the matter with the timer."
The woman picked them up.
"I think you did well enough, Philippe." She laughed. "It was so funny. Making love with that little bulb in your hand so you could take the picture."
Rina was still silent.
Karl bent over her.
"Our little Americaine is still sick," he said gently. He held out two aspirins to her. "Here, take these. You will feel better."
Rina stared up at the three of them.
"I’d like to get dressed, please," she said in a weak voice.
The woman nodded. "But of course," she said. "Your clothes are in the closet." They turned and left the room.
Rina got out of bed and washed her face quickly.
She debated over taking a bath but decided against it.
She was in too much of a hurry to leave.
She dressed and walked out into the other room.
The woman was still in her peignoir, but the men had changed to soft shirts and white flannels.
She started to walk out without looking at them. The man named Karl called,
"Mrs. Cord, you forgot your purse." Silently she turned to take it from him, her eyes avoiding his face. "I put in a set of the photographs as a memento of our party."
She opened the bag. The pictures stared obscenely up at her.
"I don't want them," she said, holding them out. He waved them aside. "Keep them.
We can always make more copies from the negatives."
Slowly she lifted her eyes to his face.
He was smiling.
"Perhaps you would like a cup of coffee while we talk business?" he asked politely.
The negatives cost her ten thousand dollars and she burned them in an ash tray before she left the room.
She sent the cable to Nevada from the hotel, as soon as she had checked in.
I’M LONELY AND MORE FRIGHTENED THAN I EVER WAS BEFORE. ARE YOU STILL MY FRIEND?
His reply reached her the next day, with a credit for five thousand dollars and confirmed reservations from Zurich through to California.
She crinkled the cablegram in her fingers as she read it once more while the limousine climbed to the top of the hill.
The cable was typical of the Nevada she remembered. But it didn't seem at all like the Nevada she was coming to see.
I AM STILL YOUR FRIEND. It was signed "Nevada."
17.
NEVADA LEANED BACK IN HIS CHAIR AND LOOKED around the large office.
An aura of tension had crept into the room.
Dan Pierce's face was bland and smiling.
"It isn't the money this time, Bernie," he said. "It's just that we feel the time is right.
Let's do a picture about the West as it really was and skip the hokum that we've been turning out for years."
Norman looked down at his desk for a moment, his hand toying with the blue-covered script.
He assumed an earnest expression.
"It isn't the script, believe me, Dan," he said, turning to Von Elster for assurance. "We think it's great, don't we?"
The lanky, bald director nodded. "It's one of the greatest I ever read."
"Then why the balk?" the agent asked.
Norman shook his head.
"The time isn't right. The industry is too upset.
Warner's has a talking picture coming out soon.
The Lights of New York.