Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1929)

Mystery By The EDINGTONS niscent of all corners of the earth . . . and, unless there is production going on, an eerie silence, broken perhaps by the faint, far distant sound of the city's life, but strangely removed from it! AS the captain of detectives walked alone through these foreign streets,heseemed to be walking alone in a dream. They gave him that lost and unattached feeling. The thought that came into his mind was, "Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore!' " He could not have told why. Certainly there never could be read into those immortal lines reference to motion picture studio "back lots!" But the haunting suggestion of desolation, the abandoned, decrepit and weird, that lies in them, seemed to fit this place! Walking there alone his mind toyed with the question of whether it was "Croaked the raven 'Nevermore!' " or, "Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore!'" Then he dismissed that as immaterial. It was the "Nevermore!" . . . the hopeless, mourning, melancholy of the words, oft repeated, that expressed Send in Yo u r Solutions Now WHO murdered Dwight Hardell? Send in your solutions now. All solutions — in 200 words or less — must be received by PHOTOPLAY before midnight of March 10th. Solutions must be typed on one side of a sheet of paper and contestant's name and address must be typed on the upper left hand corner. The full contest rules appear on page 90 of this issue. Be sure to read all the rules carefully. The two final installments of "The Studio Murder Mystery" appear in the April and May issues of PHOTOPLAY. Read these and you will know the real murderer. You will also be able to gauge the accuracy of your solution. The full list of winners of the nineteen prizes, totalling $3,000, will be published in PHOTOPLAY as soon after the close of the contest as possible — probably in the May number. Once again — be sure to read the rules with care. the feeling in him . . . the feeling that the echoing desolateness of these empty structures threw back to him, intensified! Buildings that once were so festive and gay . . . that had spilled their lightsome overflow into the starlit nights, if only for fleeting hours . . . and now . . . desolate! Smith felt by this time that, if it were not " Croaked," it should be! " Croaked" went with the tap-tapping of torn shutters against empty window frames; with the eerie flapping of once gay and flaunting banners . . . now grey streaks of rags against the empty hulls of halls! HE felt these lone buildings grieved together in a strange and secret grieving, for habitation within their walls! They'were buildings cheated of their birthrights! And many of them were but halfbuildings, resembling the street presentations of the false fronts, of little towns. He fancied these whispering disconsolately to their neighbors. "Ah, but we are even lonelier than you! We have not even our own insides to comfort us!" Queer . " . this walking alone, through lonely streets . . . dead streets, that still held such eloquent small things of human occupancy, even though that occupancy might have been but for a day! A child's doll, the dress soiled and muchhugged ... a scrap They were gathered in the studio projection room to see the final shots of Dwight Harden, made the day before his murder. The place was in semi-darkness. A silence fell upon the gathering as Hardell's mimic death scene came on. The hero, rushing in. finding his sweetheart at the mercy of Harden, seizes the rapier from Yvonne's hand, and puts it through Hardell's heart of torn letter ... an orange rind ... an empty perfume bottle and an old shoe, and before one little French shop a flower in pot, just now relinquishing its brave tenacity in the yellowing of one small green leaf. Illustrated by C. A. BRYSON 35