er there on the point, John?" asked Mr. Hammond
carelessly.

"A good many years, sir, in summer."

"How did you come to live there first?"

"I wandered down this way, found the hut empty, turned to and fixed it up,
and stayed on."

He said it quite simply and without the first show of confusion. But this
tale of his occupancy of the seaside hut he had repeated frequently, as
Mr. Hammond very well knew.

"Where do you go in the winter, John?" the latter asked.

"To where it's a sight warmer. I don't have to ask anybody where I shall
go," and now the man's tone was a trifle defiant.

"I would like to know something more about you," Mr. Hammond said, quite
frankly. "I may be able to do something with your story. We like to know
about the person who submits a scenario----"

"That don't go!" snapped the hermit grimly. "You offered five hundred for
a story you could use. If you can use mine, I want the five hundred. And I
don't aim to give you the history of my past along with the story. It's
nobody's business what or who I am, or where I came from, or where I am
going."

"Hoity-toity!" exclaimed Mr. Hammond. "You are quite sudden, aren't you?
Now, just calm yourself. I haven't got to take your scenario and pay you
five hundred dollars for it----"

"Then somebody else will," said the hermit, getting up.

"Ah! You are quite sure you have a good story here, are you?"

"I know I have."

"And how do you know so much?" sharply demanded the moving picture
magnate.

"I've seen enough of this thing you are doing, now--this 'Seaside Idyl'
stuff--to know that mine is a hundred per cent. better," sneered the
hermit.

"Whew! You've a good opinion of your story, haven't you?" asked Mr.
Hammond. "Did you ever write a scenario before?"

"What is that to you?" returned the other. "I don't get you at all, Mr.
Hammond. All this cross-examination----"

"That will do now!" snapped the manager. "I am not obliged to take your
story. You can try it elsewhere if you like," and he shoved the
newspaper-wrapped package toward the end of his desk and nearer the
hermit's hand. "I tell you frankly that I won't take any story without
knowing all about the author. There are too many comebacks in this game."

"What do you mean?" demanded the other stiffly.

"I don't _know_ that your story is original. Frankly, I have some doubt
about that very point."

The old man did not change color at all. His gray eyes blazed and he was
not at