The Photo-Play Journal (May 1916-Apr 1917)

THE PHOTO-PLAY JOURNAL FOR AUGUST, 1916. PAGE 7 he noted with a start the hypodermic and package of cocaine tablets. Rene had left them on the table at his side. Mentally switching to Rene, he recalled how invigorated and cheered she always was after an injection of the drug. How bright and clever were her sallies and how capable her hands. He remembered that she had been taking the drug for years and still seemed as when he first met her. The widely spread notion that drug users withered away in a brief space of time or became hopelessly imbecile was proven a fallacy in and by her. Glancing again at his canvas, David wondered if the cocaine would affect him as it did the girl. He fingered the syringe and tablets absently. Future fame and dreams just forming in his brain, of marrying Wynne some time, depended upon the completion of this painting within the required time. The cocaine might be his salvation, and the little he would use as a stimulant for the work certainly could not fasten upon him a habit. Remembering Rene's oft seen performance with the hypodermic, David slowly mixed a little of the drug, and with a gradual increase in haste, filled the syringe, and, hesitating but an instant to look at the unfinished picture, he plunged the needle into his forearm and ejected a half dram or so of the mixture into his blood. Almost immediately he felt the effect. Carefully cleaning the instrument and putting it back in the little case, David felt a glow of comfort steal over him, and then a subtle energy which was unusual and strange. He wanted to do big things at once, but felt so sure of his ability that he had no thought of haste. He felt himself going over every detail of finishing the painting, seeing it hung and himself receiving the awards. It all appeared clearly in prospective and easy of accomplishment. With an almost reverent glance at the cause of this new feeling, he turned with energy to his easel. Fritz softly opened the door to see if the artist, whose despondency he had noticed, needed anything, and was pleasantly amazed to see him smilingly at work, absorbed in his colors and with no sign of languor. Rene on her return noted his enlarged pupils, and investigation showed that her plan had succeeded. Making no comment, she continued to leave the hypodermic and tablets about, where David could easily find them, and effaced herself as much as possible. But on the next day Wynne Mortimer had decided that a parent so devoted to business as hers could have no understanding of the needs of a girl's heart and soul, so she calmly donned her wraps and set out for the studio, first sending her maid away for the day. She was inspired to thus brave her father's wrath, first, by her own suffering at the enforced separation from the artist, and, secondly, by the knowledge that without her he would probably be unable to finish his picture. To the consequences she gave little thought, outside the happiness her action would bring to David and herself. Of Gordon she thought enough to hope he would not find out where she had gone, but if he did it would be due to his persistent curiosity, and serve him right if his feelings were hurt ! Her arrival at David's studio stirred no emotion within him but a return of affection for the fair girl and a feeling of gratitude for her interest. His senses were sufficiently dulled by the cocaine that he felt no nervousness or fear of consequences. He had become supremely confident of his ability now, with the drug's aid, and was only moved to forego taking it by Wynne's presence. Assuming her former pose, Wynne inspired the man to greater efforts, and so she made arrangements to visit him every day until the work was finished. Her father's ban upon her receiving visitors she found an aid to the success of her studio-going. Being out to all callers by his orders, the being out in reality was very simple. so long as she was in when he came homo from business. "At last !" said David one noon hour, as he stepped over to Wynne's side and both gazed at the completed canvas. "It is very wonderful," mused the girl. "almost as wonderful as you are." Entering the studio unobserved. Rene snatched her hypodermic case from the table and moved out aeain quickly as she saw the artist clasp his newer model in David s struggles ceased at his wife s words his arms. She noted that the cocaine vial was all but empty, and needed to consult no clairvoyant to understand that David was now in the clutches of the drug which had made it so easy for him to complete his masterpiece — and forget his helper and sweetheart of years so quickly. "All right, Hugh; let it be on the roth then," decided Mortimer, after a long discussion with his prospective son-in-law "And leave the guests pretty well to Wynne, as long as she does not show an inclination to include the handsome artistic element of our population." Gordon winced at the insinuation that his approaching marriage to his partner's daughter was one of convenience more than of affection, and rose with a forced smile of gratitude toward Wynne's father. As he laid his hand on the doorknob it opened toward him and David White stepped into the room with Wynne on his arm ! "What is this?" stammered Mortimer, rising. "You have not disobeyed me!" "This is my husband, father." said the girl simply, hardly noticing Gordon. "We have come to tell you of our marriage, and are prepared to accept vour blessing and good wishes, or your abuse until we can reach the door again at least. Which is it to be?" And she clung fondly to her companion as Gordon glared menacingly at both. Her father dropped into his chair and gazed fixedly at the two. Then, turning to his junior partner, he said sternly: "I see you have left her to choose not only the guests, but the other principal. As neither of us were invited, we may well forego the usual congratulations and gift giving. Tell one of the office boys to have a dray call at my house for Mrs. Thingumbob's clothing, and see that her husband closes the office door as he goes out now." Ignoring the two latest arrivals, the old man turned to his desk, and Wynne, paling slightly, led David out without remark. The latter only halted in the outer office a moment to address Gordon : "Tell the drayman, Mr. Gordon, that his charges will be paid upon delivery to the consignee — if I have the correct commercial term — we'll trouble you no further, as my wife will herself phone to her maid to pack what is hers so it will be ready when he calls." At the studio, to which they walked in silence, David and Wynne found Rene ready to leave, and with all her effects racked. She still lingered, however, and under pretense of admiring the completed picture, which was the cause of her lost leve and Wynne's disinheritance, she whispered to Da\ id : "I am going, but I can't find the needle and gun. Where are they, and the tablets?" Grasping her meaning, the artist pressed a bill into her palm and replied stealthily : "I must have thrown them away with some old color tubes. Get yourself another outfit with this." And as Rene sadly departed she realized that he, too, was addicted to the cocaine habit, and that she was the cause of it. Her sorrow at losing her !over was equaled by ihe remorse she left at having been the instrument of his enslavement to the drug. A year passed and its ending found David using the needle almost hourly. His wife had long since discovered his addiction to the awful habit, and her waking hours were spent in anguished plannings for his cure. No communication with her father had taken place for months, and David s personal appearance had deteriorated with his ability to paint — all due to his abuse of the hypodermic and the cocaine. His paintings no longer represented the pure ideals of natural inspiration, but the forced strength of artificial stimulus. Wynne had remonstrated with him lor his use of the drug, several times of late., but without effect. Lately David had intimated that she, too. would do well to take it. Il would improve her spirits, he told her, and make her less impatient with him. She feared to make too emphatic a remonstrance lest he abuse her or mention Rene as he had once done — in terms of affection as a girl "who isn't afraid to enjoy life the way her lover does !" "There is no art in me today !" David ejaculated impatiently, laying down his brushes and gazing disconsolately at an unfinished landscape, while Wynne leaned lightly on his shoulder. "I don't feel encouraged either, dear," responded Wynne ; "you need sleep, perhaps. You do not rest well lately, you know."