"No!" snarls Duke. "But I'll concede that as an actor you're a crackerjack bartender! D'ye mean to tell me that you got away with that kind of stuff in the studios back East?"
"I introduced it!" says Harold, proudly. "As a director for some of the largest film companies in the world, I have put on hundreds of—"
"The only thing you ever put on was your hat!" interrupts Duke. "And I bet that give you trouble on account of the size of your head. I suppose you're gonna tell me that you're also a scenario writer, a camera man and the guy that got Nero's permission to film the burnin' of Rome, eh?"
"The last is something of an exaggeration," pipes Harold, "but as far as the other things you mentioned are concerned, I must confess that there are few people in the business who have approached me!"
"Ain't that rich?" whispers the Kid to me. "You got to hand it to this bird!"
"You'd be a wonder as a press agent!" I says to Harold.
"Now that's odd you should remark that," he smiles. "For, as a matter of fact, I excel in that field! I did all the press work for—"
"Columbus!" yells Duke, wavin' him off. "Good-by!" he goes on. "I got enough! You got a liar lookin' like George Washington!"
Harold looks after Duke as he went into the office.
"Heavens!" he says. "I can't stand that man with his petty little jealousies! Now when I—"