Shane rose slowly, adjusting his lapel with quiet precision. Sunlight through the glass ceiling caught the sharp glint in his grey-blue eyes.
"It seems we need to recalibrate our screening strategy," he said in a low, magnetic voice, immediately drawing the attention of everyone present. "Instead of waiting passively, let the market be our judge. Next Monday, twelve of London's top theatres will simultaneously open for pre-sales."
J. D. Williams sat up abruptly on the leather sofa, the creak echoing softly. His fingers unconsciously rubbed the Gaumont Company emblem on his cuff. "Pre-sales…? You mean… selling tickets before the screening? That's… audacious!"
Novello's hands hovered above the piano keys, eyes wide with disbelief. "Chaplin's films have always premiered before tickets go on sale… this approach is unprecedented."
"Precisely why it's more interesting," Shane replied, retrieving a notepad from his inner pocket. A folded blueprint slipped out, and he spread it across the table.
The Leicester Square floor plan unfurled, the paper rustling softly. Shane's fingertips traced the layout, circling key locations with precision.
"Twelve of London's premier theatres—including the Royal Opera House, Drury Lane, and Covent Garden—will simultaneously open for pre-sales next Monday." He paused, surveying the group. "One hundred and fifty seats will be reserved at each venue: eighty for the mainstream press, seventy for industry authorities."
Williams' face paled. "Only a 12% ticket increase? That's 1 shilling and 8½ pence per ticket—far below standard. We won't even cover the cost of specialized printing!"
"We don't need extravagant tickets," Shane interrupted, tapping the map lightly with a gilded pen, leaving small inked dots. "A simple line at the bottom: 'Special Pre-Sale Voucher, Date, Show Time.' That suffices. Every penny saved becomes ammunition for additional screenings."
He continued, marking seat allocations at each theatre. "The modest price ensures accessibility—ordinary patrons aren't deterred. Meanwhile, reviews will ignite city-wide discussion within three days."
Shane drew a timeline on the blueprint. "Pre-sales launch 48 hours before the official screening. The first 24 hours give the press time to ferment interest. The Times in the morning, The Standard in the evening. Then comes the golden window: theatre managers scramble with booking calls, and by the end of the second 24-hour period, our first-week pre-sale data dominates The Financial Times' front page."
He tapped the center of the map. "As demand peaks, we add showtimes incrementally, creating the impression that tickets are scarce. And since Harry Crocker loves numbers, this six-figure pre-sale total will speak for itself—forcing him to reconsider the terms."
A hushed silence fell. Williams' Adam's apple bobbed. Novello's fingers finally hit the keys, playing a deliberate, meaningful chord. Lady Diana Cooper's fan clattered lightly as she leaned forward, her sapphire-grey eyes widening.
"Oh my goodness…" she whispered, her rare surprise betraying her usual composure. Yet within moments, she regained control, the fan subtly hiding her slight smile.
"Mr. Cassidy," she said, voice steady but sparkling, "you're certainly giving Harry Crocker a challenge. Incidentally, I have lunch with Emily from Harper's Bazaar tomorrow… She's been desperate for an exclusive story. She'll adore this plan."
Lawrence's lips curved elegantly, her champagne glass swirling gently. "I can already imagine Crocker's reaction if Vanity Fair's Katherine ends up in the front row—especially if she receives a detailed viewing analysis before entry."
Coward sipped his champagne calmly. "Remember, Charlie detests two things: unfinished works judged prematurely, and interference with his box office returns."
Shane raised a finger, signaling one final point. "There's a practical constraint: the industry's standard payment cycle is 30–45 days. Even with booming pre-sales, funds won't arrive fast enough to support rolling additional screenings."
He turned to Lady Diana, bowing slightly. "Ma'am, I have a presumptuous request. Only your influence can make this feasible."
Her fan paused, eyes sparkling.
"With the pre-sale launch next Monday, we need a seven-day discount transaction at the National Discount Company with Sir Robert Kindersley," Shane explained. "This compresses the month-long cycle into a single week, allowing pre-sales revenue to fund next-day additional screenings."
Shane met Lady Diana's gaze squarely. "We need an influential introducer to open that door for us. Lady Diana… could you make that connection?"
After a moment of deliberate thought, she smiled, her fan snapping open. "Sir Kindersley has little resistance to fresh, profitable ideas. I suppose I shall have to 'drop by' the National Discount Company for tea after lunch tomorrow. For art's sake, one occasionally ventures into such mercenary places, don't you agree?"
Williams watched the scene, stunned, muttering, "Pre-sell today… recover funds today… My God, we're not just adjusting strategy—we're rewriting the rules of the entire industry…"
The sunlight outside had been obscured by clouds at some point, and the light in the room dimmed. The crystal chandelier in the hall cast flickering shadows.