Motion Picture Magazine (Feb-Jul 1919)

(Continued from page 74) scene in the life of Arthur Gebhardt and the tragic role she had played therein. Finally she raised her eyes and replied softly: "It was after luncheon." "As I understand it, he followed you to the studio. Is that true?" "He called at my home in Golder's Green, and learning from my maid I had left for South Hackney, he followed me." "You will pardon this next question," continued Frost politely. "Were you very fond of this man?" It was evident she was embarrassed by this query, and she hesitated a moment, as she toyed nervously with the silken strings of her bag. "I was at one time," she admitted. "But when you learnt of the contemptible role he was playing, and of his disloyalty to his country, you discontinued this friendship. That is so, isn't it?" "This is a time when a woman puts the love of her country above all things," she said slowly, with a great deal of emphasis. "How did you come to learn of the dual role Gebhardt was playing?" She dropped her head and her gaze rested on the floor. Presently she lifted her eyes, and the superintendent noted a slight frown as she replied: "I — I promised I would never tell." The superintendent was silent for a moment. Then he said in kindly tones : "I explained at the outset that you could use your own discretion in replying to my questions. I will not press you, but I might say it would assist us a great deal to learn the source of this information," he explained. "In fact, I will admit it would be to your advantage. However, you may not answer, unless you see fit." Rita then glanced at Letherdale, and she seemed to read a prompting in his eyes which told her she would be doing the right thing if she trusted .the superintendent. Then she met the gaze of the Scotland Yard official. "It was Brenon Hodges," she volunteered. The superintendent started slightly as he heard this, and as he looked at the inspector and then at Letherdale, he noted the surprise her words had awakened. "Rather intricate, isn't it?" remarked^the Inspector. "His has been a strange role," museq Frost. "He has tried hard to be fair and honorable." "But he found it damnably hard," added Letherdale. ' "'What do you suppose prompted him to betray his best friend?" inquired Inspector Henry, thoughtfully. "His patriotism: his love for his country," replied Rita, with emotion. "I would correct your former statement," suggested Letherdale, as he met her gaze with a tender smile. "This is a time when every real man, and every real woman, put the love for their country above all things." "Hodges has played a noble part, and I'm inclined to believe it is the only real thing he has done thus far in his life," said the superintendent. "In order to protect the honor of a lady, he betrayed his best friend." For a moment none of them spoke. "May I ask Miss di Garma a question?" inquired Letherdale of Frost. "Why certainly," replied the official. "Was Mr. Gebhardt wearing a hat, when you saw him Wednesday?" asked the reporter. She stared at him in surprise for an instant, and then replied: "Why certainly." "Did you see the hat while he was in the studio?" he continued. "Yes," she returned. "It was lying on the sofa." "Thank you." The superintendent was puzzled. "What are you trying to prove?" he asked Letherdale. "I'm trying to show that someone in the studio took Gebhardt's hat, immediately after his death." ■ "And " "The one who took it, had a definite object for taking it!" "By jove! I recall now... His hat was missing," said the inspector. "And so far as I know, it has never been found," added Letherdale. "What do you make of this?" inquired the superintendent, who was growing interested. Letherdale could refrain from speaking the truth no longer. The sorrowful look in the eyes of Rita di Garma seemed to challenge him, and he decided he would drop the curtain of this farce and put an end to her mental suffering. With the light of admiration beaming in his eyes, he met her look for an instant. Then he .turned to the superintendent, who was waiting for his reply. "The one who took that hat is the one that killed Arthur Gebhardt!" he remarked. (To be concluded) I'm For the Old Location By Corporal W. E. Mair, U. S. Infantry I'm for the old location ; I haven't much to say About going back on the wreck-strewn track while the battle-clouds loomed gray ; But Time has directed the picture, the plot has come to its turn, And I yearn to rove toward the land I love, where the welcoming home fires burn. You sing of the charms of gay Paree, Of the ruby "vin" and the mademoiselles ; You vision the soldier fancy-free, You tell of the spell of cathedral bells. You're all for the charms of the old chateaux, You prate like a poet of "purpling vines," Of the peasant folk and their burning rows Of crimson flowers 'neath the Norman pines. I only remember the western sun As it used to stream down the dear old lanes; Of the friendly doors by the paths that run From the steepled town to the dotted plains. Perhaps 'tis the mist — for it couldn't be tears — That curtains this strange, fair land from me. For sweet as first love thru its vistaed years Glows a harbor light by a far home sea. From your nook you may worship this high romance Of the soldier's hour, but the end draws nigh, And I'd pawn you all of glorious France For one sunlit hour 'neath the homeland sky. I'm for the old location, for the story has run its thrill, And the beacon fire that summons me is a light on a western hill. Time has directed the picture, and the actors wend them home — Home is the goal, tho the farthest pole should find me afield in the gloam Hi CT *^: