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〃Never heard of 'em。〃
〃Let me get you some。〃
〃You dear thing； fly to it！〃
He was gone while she reached for her purse； hurrying along the eucalyptus…lined street of choice home sites to the nearest drug store。 He was fearing someone else might bring the little woman another remedy； even that her headache might go before he returned with his。 But he found her still suffering。
〃Here they are。〃 He was breathless。 〃You take a couple now and a couple more in half an hour if the ache hasn't stopped。〃 〃Bless your heart！ Come around inside。〃 He was through the door and in the dimly lit little office behind that secretive partition。 〃And here's something else；〃 he continued。 〃It's a menthol pencil and you take this cap offsee？and rub your forehead with it。 It'll be a help。〃 She swallowed two of the magic wafers with the aid of water from the cooler； and applied the menthol。
〃You're a dear；〃 she said； patting his sleeve。 〃I feel better already。 Sometimes these things come on me and stay all day。〃 She was still applying the menthol to throbbing temples。 〃Say； don't you get tired hanging around outside there？ How'd you like to go in and look around the lot？ Would you like that？〃
Would he！ 〃Thanks！〃 He managed it without choking； 〃If I wouldn't be in the way。〃
〃You won't。 Go onamuse yourself。〃 The telephone rang。 Still applying the menthol she held the receiver to her ear。 〃No； nothing to…day； dear。 Say； Marie； did you ever take Eezo Pain Wafers for a headache？ Keep 'em in mindthey're great。 Yes； I'll let you know if anything breaks。 Goo'…by； dear。〃
Merton Gill hurried through a narrow corridor past offices where typewriters clicked and burst from gloom into the dazzling light of the Holden lot。 He paused on the steps to reassure himself that the great adventure was genuine。 There was the full stretch of greensward of which only an edge had shown as he looked through the gate。 There were the vast yellow…brick； glass…topped structures of which he had seen but the ends。 And there was the street up which he had looked for so many weeks； flanked by rows of offices and dressing rooms； and lively with the passing of many people。 He drew a long breath and became calculating。 He must see everything and see it methodically。 He even went now along the asphalt walk to the corner of the office building from which he had issued for the privilege of looking back at the gate through which he had so often yearningly stared from across the street。
Now he was securely inside looking out。 The watchman sat at the gate； bent low over his paper。 There was； it seemed； more than one way to get by him。 People might have headaches almost any time。 He wondered if his friend the casting director were subject to them。 He must carry a box of the Eezo wafers。
He strolled down the street between the rows of offices and the immense covered stages。 Actors in costume entered two of these and through their open doors he could see into their shadowy interiors。 He would venture there later。 Just now he wished to see the outside of things。 He contrived a pace not too swift but business…like enough to convey the impression that he was rightfully walking this forbidden street。 He seemed to be going some place where it was of the utmost importance that he should be； and yet to have started so early that there was no need for haste。
He sounded the far end of that long street visible from outside the gate； discovering its excitements to wane gently into mere blacksmith and carpenter shops。 He retraced his steps； this time ignoring the long row of offices for the opposite line of stages。 From one dark interior came the slow； dulled strains of an orchestra and from another shots rang out。 He met or passed strangely attired people； bandits； priests； choir boys； gentlemen in evening dress with blue…black eyebrows and careful hair。 And he observed many beautiful young women； variously attired； hurrying to or from the stages。 One lovely thing was in bridal dress of dazzling white； a veil of lace floating from her blonde head； her long train held up by a coloured maid。 She chatted amiably； as she crossed the street； with an evil…looking Mexican in a silver…corded hata veritable Snake de Vasquez。
But the stages could wait。 He must see more streets。 Again reaching the office that had been his secret gateway to these delights； he turned to the right； still with the air of having business at a certain spot to which there was really no need for him to hurry。 There were fewer people this way； and presently； as if by magic carpet； he had left all that sunlight and glitter and cheerful noise and stood alone in the shadowy； narrow street of a frontier town。 There was no bustle here； only an intense stillness。 The street was deserted； the shop doors closed。 There was a ghostlike； chilling effect that left him uneasy。 He called upon himself to remember that he was not actually in a remote and desolate frontier town from which the inhabitants had fled； that back of him but a few steps was abounding life； that outside was the prosaic world passing and repassing a gate hard to enter。 He whistled the fragment of a tune and went farther along this street of uncanny silence and vacancy； noting； as he went； the signs on the shop windows。 There was the Busy Bee Restaurant； Jim's Place； the Hotel Renown； the Last Dollar Dance Hall； Hank's Pool Room。 Upon one window was painted the terse announcement； 〃JoeBuy or Sell。〃 The Happy Days Bar adjoined the General Store。
He moved rapidly through this street。 It was no place to linger。 At the lower end it gave insanely upon a row of three…story brownstone houses which any picture patron would recognize as being wholly of New York。 There were the imposing steps； the double…doored entrances； the broad windows； the massive lines of the whole。 And beyond this he came to a many…coloured little street out of Bagdad； overhung with gay balconies； vivacious with spindled towers and minarets； and small reticent windows； out of which veiled ladies would glance。 And all was still with the stillness of utter desertion。
Then he explored farther and felt curiously disappointed at finding that these structures were to real houses what a dicky is to a sincere； genuine shirt。 They were pretentiously false。
One had but to step behind them to discover them as poor shells。
Their backs were jutting beams carried but little beyond the fronts and their stout…appearing walls were revealed to be fragile contrivances of button…lath and thin plaster。 The ghost quality departed from them with this discovery。
He left these cities of silence and came upon an open space and people。 They were grouped before a railway station； a small red structure beside a line of railway track。 At one end in black letters； on a narrow white board； was the name Boomerville。
The people were plainly Western： a dozen cowboys； a sprinkling of bluff ranchers and their families。 An absorbed young man in cap and khaki and puttees came from a distant group surrounding a camera and readjusted the line of these people。 He placed them to his liking。 A wagon drawn by two horses was driven up and a rancher helped a woman and girl to alight。 The girl was at once sought out by th