The Film Mystery by Arthur B. Reeve


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Page 11

"Well--" Manton responded quickly enough, but then he stopped and
proceeded as though he chose each word with care, as if he framed
each sentence so that there would be no misunderstanding, no
chance of wrong impression; all of which pleased Kennedy.

"In the scene we were taking," he went on, "Stella was crouched
down on the floor, bending over her father, who had just been
murdered. She was sobbing. All at once the lights were to spring
up. The young hero was to dash through the set and she was to see
him and scream out in terror. The first part went all right. But
when the lights flashed on, instead of looking up and screaming,
Stella sort of crumpled and collapsed on top of Werner, who was
playing the father. I yelled to stop the cameras and rushed in.
We picked her up and put her on the couch. Some one sent for the
doctor, but she died without saying a word. I--I haven't the
slightest idea what happened. At first I thought it was heart
trouble."

"Did she have heart trouble?"

"No, that is--not that I ever heard."

Kennedy hesitated. "Why were you taking these scenes out here?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to answer for Manton. I knew that
at one time many fine interiors were actually taken in houses, to
save expense. I was sorry that Kennedy should draw any conclusion
from a fact which I thought was too well known to require
explanation. Manton's answer, however, proved a distinct surprise
to me.

"Mr. Phelps asked us to use his library in this picture."

"Wouldn't it have been easier and cheaper in the long run to
reproduce it in the studio?"

Manton glanced up at Kennedy, echoing my thought. Had Kennedy,
after all, some knowledge of motion pictures stored away with his
vast fund of general and unusual information?

"Yes," replied the producer. "It would save the trip out here,
the loss of time, the inconvenience--why, in an actual dollars
and cents comparison, with overhead and everything taken into
account, the building of a set like this is nothing nowadays."

"Do you know Mr. Phelps's reason?"

Manton shrugged his shoulders. "Just a whim, and we had to humor
it."

"Mr. Phelps is interested in the company?"

"Yes. He recently bought up all the stock except my own. He is in
absolute control, financially."

"What is the story you are making? I mean, I want to understand
just exactly what happened in the scenes you were photographing
today. It is essential that I learn how everyone was supposed to
act and how they did act. I must find out every trivial little
detail. Do you follow me?"

Manton's mouth set suddenly, showing that it possessed a latent
quality of firmness. He glanced about the room, then rose, went
to the farther end of the long table, and returned with a thick
sheaf of manuscript bound at the side in stiff board covers.
"This is the scenario, the script of the detailed action," he
explained.

As Kennedy took the binder, Manton opened it and turned past
several sheets of tabulation and lists, the index to the sets and
exterior locations, the characters and extras, the changes of
clothes, and other technical detail. "The scenes we are taking
here," he went on, "are the opening scenes of the story. We left
them until now because it meant the long trip out to Tarrytown
and because it would take us away from the studio while they were
putting up the largest two sets, a banquet and a ballroom which
need the entire floor space of the studio." He turned over two or
three pages, pointing. "We had taken up to scene thirteen; from
scenes one to thirteen just as you have them in order there. It--
it was in the unlucky thirteenth that she"--was it my imagination
or did he tremble, for just an instant, violently?--"that she
died."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Wed 8th Jan 2025, 13:35