Photoplay (Apr - Sep 1918)

38 Photoplay Magazine "Nothing doing," he growled. 'Why not?" I asked, although I had expected it. 'The United grabbed her off an hour before I got there." •'Did you see her?" I said. •'No. She was resting. Saw her mother. Pleasant old dame. No fool, either. She said Loeb, of the United, had been at the house before breakfast, with a contract in one hand and a fountain pen in the other." . I did some quick thinking. "Where do they live?" I asked. 'Little boarding house down on Tenth Street." He gave me the address. I rose and put on my hat. "I think I'll go down and see the girl myself," I said. Davis seemed to resent this. "What's the use?" he growled. "She's signed up." I did not stop to argue the question. "I have a hunch." T replied, and went out. It was close to noon when I reached the boarding house on Tenth Street, and rang the doorbell. A slatternly looking maid appeared. "I would like to see Miss Carter," I said. The girl seemed to expect the question. I don't doubt she had answered it a hundred times before, since breakfast. "Miss Carter can't see anyone," she told me. "She's resting." "Then I'll see her mother." I pushed my way into the narrow hall. The maid looked at me for a moment, as though undecided just what to do. Then she turned to the door of the dingy little parlor. "Wait here," she said. "I'll tell Mrs. Carter. What name, please?" I gave her my name, knowing quite well that it would not mean anything to Miss Carter's mother, and sat down. I did not have to wait long. In a few moments a gray-haired woman of fifty, quite evidently a lady, came into the room. In spite of her attempt at repression, I could see that she was laboring under great excitement. "What can I do for you?" she asked, as I rose. "I would like to see your daughter," I said. "That is quite impossible. She is greatly unnerved after her recent terrible experiences, and is lying down. Are you a reporter?" "No," I assured her. "I'm a motion picture director." She smiled faintly at this. "A great many picture people have been to see Dorothy," she said. "She has not "talked with any of them. I think you ought to know that she has signed a contract with the United Company." "So I have heard." I told her. "Still. I should like a word with her." "It is quite impossible," Mrs. Carter's voice, her words, carried a note of finality. Something Big Coming! JUST over the horizon there is a new motion picture field. It is a field which comes close to the lives of young and old. It is the field which includes 300,000 public schools, 10,000 colleges, 230,000 churches, and 500,000 other institutions, organizations and clubs — all potential . users of motion pictures. The swiftly developing activities in this new world, just awakening to the power and wonder of the screen as applied to it's own work, will be reflected in Photoplay's new Educational Films Department, conducted by an expert, and appearing for the first time next month. Watch that department and see a new world grow. I took my hat, buj made no move to go. Instead, I went up quite close to her. "If I' cannot see your daughter, Mrs. Carter," I said, "perhaps I may be able to see her husband." 'Her husband!" Mrs. Carter drew back as though I had struck her. "Certainly." I handed her the newspaper clipping that had attracted my attention. She took it, and her face went pale. "This refers to the marriage of a Miss Dorothy C. Byrd," she said, her voice trembling. "Exactly. Dorothy Carter Byrd. That is your daughter's full name, is it' not? Surely her husband must be with her, at this trying time." Mrs. Carter started to speak, stopped, then went to the door. She was making a great effort to appear composed. "I'll speak to him," she whispered, and left the room. I sat down to await developments. Presently a scaredlooking young man of twenty-five or six appeared in the doorway. He fixed upon me a terrified stare of recognition. "Hello, Sam," I said. "How is Mrs. Bigelow?" The young man leaned against the frame of the door for support. I could see his legs trembling. "Hello," he gasped faintly. He seemed unable to say more. "Won't you introduce me to your wife?" I remarked, pleasantly. "What makes you think I have a wife?" "I don't think anything about it, Sam," I replied dryly. "I know. I was looking over a bunch of clippings on my desk today— reviews of some of our productions, a couple of weeks old, most of them, and by the merest accident I saw on the back of one of them a notice of the marriage of Samuel H. Bigelow and Dorothy C. Byrd. When I had finished reading it I — " "Well?" he interrupted, rather faintly. "Well, I naturally concluded that the present Mrs. Bigelow is no other than the beautiful victim of the recent sensational abduction, Dorothy Carter." "Suppose she is. What of it?" "This," I said, beginning to get angry. "Your whole confounded kidnapping case was nothing but a fraud — a cheap fraud." "It's a lie!" he cried. "You've got a lot of nerve to stand there and say that, when I saw you with my own eyes, grinding the camera." He nearly collapsed, at this. "What — what are you going to do about it?" he asked. "I .was thinking of applying for the $10,000 reward they've offered for the arrest of the kidnappers." "There can't be any reward " he bluffed, "because there wasn't any crime. It's no crime to kidnap a woman with (Continued on page 108 )