XXX
THE BALLROOM SCENE
Sounds of music caught our ears as we entered the studio courtyard ofManton Pictures. Carrying the bag with its indisputable proof of someperson's guilt, we made our way through the familiar corridor by thedressing rooms, out under the roof of the so-called large studio. Therea scene of gayety confronted us, in sharp contrast with the gloomyatmosphere of the rest of the establishment.
Kauf, however, had thoroughly demonstrated his genius as a director. Tocounteract the depression caused by all the recent melodramatic andtragic happenings, he had brought in an eight-piece orchestra,establishing the men in the set itself so as to get full photographicvalue from their jazz antics. Where Werner and Manton had dispensedwith music, in a desperate effort at economy, Kauf had realized thatmoney saved in that way was lost through time wasted with dispiritedpeople. It was a lesson learned long before by other companies. Inother studios I had seen music employed in the making of soberlydramatic scenes, solely as an aid to the actors, enabling them to getinto the atmosphere of their work more quickly and naturally.
Under the lights the entire set sparkled with a tawdry garishness aptto fool those uninitiated into the secrets of photography. On thescreen, colors which now seemed dull and flat would take on a softrichness and a delicacy characteristic of the society in which Kauf'scharacters were supposed to move. Obviously fragile scenery would seemas heavy and substantial as the walls and beams of the finest oldmansion. Even the inferior materials in the gowns of most of the girlswould photograph as well as the most expensive silk; in fact, by longexperience, many of the extra girls had learned to counterfeit thelatest fashions at a cost ridiculous by comparison.
Kennedy approached Kauf, then returned to us.
"He asks us to wait until he gets this one big scene. It's the climaxof the picture, really, the unmasking of the 'Black Terror.' If weinterrupt now he loses the result of half a day of preparation."
"He may lose more than that!" muttered Mackay; and I wondered just whomthe district attorney suspected.
"Is everyone here?" I asked. "All seven?"
Gordon and Shirley, of the men, and Marilyn and Enid, of course, wereout on the floor of the supposed ballroom. Gordon I recognized becauseI remembered that he was to wear the garb of a monk. Marilyn was easilypicked out, although the vivacity she assumed seemed unnatural now thatwe knew her as well as we did. Her costume was a glorious Yama Yamacreation, of a faint yellow which would photograph dazzling white,revealing trim stockinged ankles and slender bare arms, framing faceand eyes dancing with merriment and maliciousness. Unquestionably shewas the prettiest girl beneath the arcs, never to be suspected as thewoman who had braved the terrors of a film fire to rescue the man sheloved. Enid was stately and serene in the gown of Marie Antoinette. Inthe bright glare her features took on a round innocence and she was assuccessful in portraying sweetness as Marilyn was in the simulation ofthe mocking evil of the vampire.
Shirley interested me the most, however. I wondered if Kennedy stilleliminated him in guessing at the identity of the criminal. I called tomind the heavy man's presence in the basement at the time of theexplosion and McGroarty's information that he had been hanging aboutthat part of the studio for some time previously. Some one had planteda cigarette case and stub to implicate Gordon, according to Kennedy'stheory. Shirley certainly had had opportunity to steal the towel fromthe locker as well as to point suspicion toward the leading man.
In the midst of my reverie Shirley approached and passed us. He was inthe garb of Mephisto. Like the others, he had not yet masked his face.A peculiar brightness in his eyes struck me and I nudged Kennedy.
"Belladonna," Kennedy explained when he was beyond earshot.
"Oh!" I remembered. "Enid told him to use it."
"What?"
I repeated the conversation as near as I could reconstruct it.
"H-m! That's a new cure for smoke-burned eyes; no cure at all."
I was unable to get any more out of Kennedy, however.
Manton I detected in the background with Phelps. The two men werearguing, as always, and it was evident that the banker wasaccomplishing nothing by this constant hanging about the studio. Wherepreviously my sympathy had been with Phelps entirely, now I realizedthat the promoter had won me. Indeed, Manton's interest in all theaffairs of picture making at this plant had been far too sincere andearnest to permit the belief that he was seeking to wreck the companyor to double-cross his backer.
Millard entered the studio as I glanced about for him. He handed somesheets to Kauf, then turned to leave. I attracted Kennedy's attention.
"You don't want Millard to get away," I whispered.
Kennedy sent Mackay to stop him. The author accompanied the districtattorney willingly.
"Yes, Mr. Kennedy?"
"As soon as this scene is over we're going down to the projection room;everyone concerned in the death of Miss Lamar and of Mr. Werner."
The scenario writer looked up quickly. "Do you--do you know who it is?"he asked, soberly.
"Not exactly, but I will identify the guilty person just as soon as weare assembled down in front of the screen."
Shirley had left the studio floor, apparently to go to his dressingroom. Now I noticed that he returned and passed close just in time tohear Millard's question and Kennedy's answer. His eyes dilated. As heturned away his face fell. He went on into the set, but his legs seemedto wabble beneath him. I was sure it was more than the weaknessresulting from his experience in the fire.
Kauf's voice, through the megaphone, echoed suddenly from wall to wall,reverberating beneath the roof.
"All ready! Everyone in the set! Masks on! Take your places!"
At a signal the orchestra struck up and the couples started to dance.It was a wonderfully colorful scene and I saw that Kauf proposed torehearse it thoroughly, doing it over and over without the camerasuntil every detail reached a practiced perfection. In this I wascertain he achieved results superior to Werner's slap, dash, and bang.
Then came the call for action.
"Camera!" Kauf began to bob up and down. "Into it, everybody!"
For fascination and charm this far exceeded the banquet scene which wehad witnessed in the taking previously. The music was surprisinglygood, so that it was impossible for the people not to get into theswing, and the result was a riotous swirling of gracefully dancingpairs; the girls, selected for their beauty, flashing half-revealedfaces toward the camera, displaying eyes which twinkled through theirmasks in mockery at a wholly ineffectual attempt at concealment.
Enid maintained her stately carriage, but made full use of the dazzlingwhiteness of her teeth. Early she permitted the attentions of thecowled monk whom she knew to be her lover. Marilyn was everywhere,making mischief the best she could. Shirley stalked about in hissatanic red, which would photograph black and appear even more somberon the screen.
Of course the whole was not photographed in a continuous strip from onecamera position. I saw that Kauf made several long shots to catch thegeneral atmosphere. Then he made close-up scenes of all the principalsand of some of the best appearing extras. At one time he ordered apanorama effect, in which the cameras "panned," swept from one side tothe other, giving a succession of faces at close range.
Finally everything was ready for the climax. Shirley had been playing asort of Jekyll and Hyde role in which he was at once the young lawyerfriend of Enid and the Black Terror. Unmasked and cornered at thisfunction of a society terrified by the dread unknown menace, he was tomake the transformation directly before the eyes of everyone, using themythical drug which changed him from a young man of good appearance andfamily to the being who was a very incarnation of evil.
For once Kauf did not rehearse the scene. Shirley was obviouslyweakened from his experience and the director wished to spare him. Allthe details were shouted out through the megaphone, however, and Igrasped that the action of this part of the dance was familiar toeveryone; it was the big scene of the story towar
d which all otherevents had built.
Then came the familiar order. "Camera!"
At the start of this episode the orchestra was playing and the dancerswere in motion. Suddenly Gordon, as the hero, strode up to Shirley andunmasked him with a few bitter words which later would be flashed uponthe screen in a spoken title. Instantly a crowd gathered about, but insuch a way as not to obstruct the camera view.
Cornered, seeing that flight was impossible unless he became the BlackTerror and possessed the strength and fearlessness of that strangeother self, Shirley drew a little vial from his breast pocket and drankthe contents. Evidently he knew his Mansfield well. Slowly he began toact out the change in his appearance which corresponded with theassumption of control by the evil within. His body writhed, wentthrough contortions which were horrible yet fascinating. It was almostas though a new fearful being was created within sight of theonlookers. Not only was the face altered, but the man's stature seemedto shrink, to lose actual inches. I thought it a wonderful exhibition.
The very next instant there came a groan from Shirley, something whichat once indicated pain and realization and fear. He lost all control ofhimself and in a moment pitched forward upon the floor, sputtering andclutching at the empty air. Another cry broke from between his lips, aghastly contracted shriek as treble as though from the throat of awoman.
This was no part of the story, no skillful bit of acting! It was real!Even before I had grasped the full significance of the happeningKennedy had dashed forward. The cameras still were grinding and theycaught him as he kneeled at the side of the stricken man. Hardly asecond afterward Mackay and I followed and were at Kennedy's side. Kaufand the others, their faces weirdly ashen, clustered about in fright.
A third time the invisible hand had struck at a member of the company."The Black Terror," with all the horror written into that story,contained nothing as fearful as the menace to the people engaged in itsproduction.
Shirley's skin was cold and clammy, his face almost rigid. Whileconscious, he was helpless. Kennedy found the little vial and examinedit.
"Atropin!" he ejaculated. "Walter!" He turned to me. "Get somephysostigmin, quick! Have Mackay drive you! It's--it's life or death!Here--I'll write it down! Physostigmin!"
As I raced madly out and down the stairs, Mackay at my heels, I heard awoman's scream. Marilyn! Did she think him dead?
Once in the car, headed for the nearest drug store, grasping wildly atthe side or at the back of the seat every few moments as the districtattorney skidded around curves and literally hurdled obstacles, Iremembered a forgotten fact.
Atropin! That was belladonna, simply another name for the drug. Shirleyhad procured the stuff for use in his eyes. Nevertheless, he had beenaware, undoubtedly, of its deadly nature. Passing by Kennedy and therest of us, he had overheard Kennedy state that the murderer would beidentified as soon as all could be assembled in the projection room.The heavy man had not cared to face justice in so prosaic a manner.With the same sense of the melodramatic which had led him to slayStella Lamar in the taking of a scene, Werner in the photographing ofanother, he had preferred suicide and had selected the most spectacularmoment possible for his last upon earth.
Yes, Shirley was guilty. Rather than wait the slow processes of legaljustice he had attempted suicide. Now we raced to save his life, topreserve it for a more fitting end in the electric chair.