Pictures and the Picturegoer (Jan-Dec 1925)

52 The Pict^repver DECEMBER 1925 U^vtowo/tL -Movies ( f ri'L-^tfUAWY LEON WILSON This enthralling serial commenced in the February issue. Back numbers can be obtained from the Publishing Department. The selected types were now herded into a dark, narrow, low-ceilinged room with a divan effect along its three walls. A grizzled Arab made coffee over a glowing brazier. Merton Gill sat cross-legged on the divan and became fearful that he would be asked to smoke the nargileh which the assistant director was now preparing. To one who balked at mere cigarettes, it was an evilappearing device. His neighbour who had been puzzled at prayer-time now hitched up his flowing robe to withdraw a paper of cigarettes from the pocket of a quite occidental garment. " Go on, smoke cigarettes," said the assistant director. "Have one?" said Merton's neighbour, and he took one. It seemed you couldn't get away from cigarettes on the screen. East and West were here one. He lighted it, though smoking warily. The noble sheikh, of undoubtedly Asiatic origin, came to the doorway overlooking the assistant director's work on the nargileh. A laden camel halted near him, sneered in an evil manner at the bystanders, and then, Lifting an incredible length of upper lip, set his yellow teeth in the nearest shoulder. It was the shoulder of the noble sheikh, who instantly rent the air with a plaintive cry : " For the love of Mike ! — keep that man-eater off'n me, can't you? " His accent had not been that of the Arabian waste-land. Merton Gill was disappointed. So the fellow was only an actor, after all. If he had felt any sympathy at all, it would now have been for the camel. The beast was jerked back with profane words and the sheikh, rubbing his bitten shoulder, entered the cafe, sitting cross-legged at the end of the d'van nearest the door. "All right, Bob." The assistant director handed him the tube of the water pipe, and the sheikh smoked with every sign of enjoyment. Merton Gill resolved never to play the part of an Arab sheikh — at the mercy of man-eating camels and having to smoke something that looked murderous. Tnder Henshaw's direction the grizzled ^ proprietor now served tiny cups of coffee to the sheikh and his lesser patrons. Two of those played dominoes, and one or two reclined as in sleep. Cameras were brought up. The interior being to his satisfaction, Henshaw rehearsed the entrance of a little band of European tourists. A beautiful girl in spurts garb, a beautiful youug man in khaki and puttees, a fine old I3ritish father with grey side whiskers shaded by a sun-hat with a flowing veil twined about it. These people sat and were served with coffee, staring in a tourist manner at their novel surroundings. The Bedouins, under stern command, ignored them, conversing among themselves over their coffee — all but the sheikh. The Sheikh had been instantly struck by the fair young English girl. His sinister eyes hung constantly upon her, shifting only when she regarded him, furtively returning when she ceased. When they left the cafe, the sheikh arose and placed himself partly in the girl's way. She paused while his dark eyes caught and held hers. A long moment went before she seemed to be able to free herself from the hypnotic tension he put upon her. Then he bowed low, and the girl with a nervous laugh passed him. It could be seen that the sheikh meant her no good. He stepped to the door and looked after the group. There was evil purpose in his gaze. jV/Terton Gill recalled something of *■**■ Henshaw's words the first day he had eaten at the cafeteria: "They find this deserted tomb just at nightfall, and he's alone there with the girl, and he could do anything, but the kick for the audience is that he's a gentleman and never lays a finger on her." This would be the story. Probably the sheikh would now arrange with the old gentleman an the sun-hat to guide the party over the desert, and would betray them in order to get the beautiful girl into his power. Of course there would be a kick for the audience when the young fellow proved to be a gentleman in the deserted tomb for a whole night — any moving-picture audience would expect him under these propitious circumstances to he quite otherwise, if the girl were as beautiful as this one. But there would surely be a greater kick when the sheikh found them in the tomb and bore the girl off on his camel, after a fight in which the gentleman was momentarily worsted. But the girl would be rescued in time. And probably the piece would be called Desert Passion He wished he could know the ending of the story. Indeed, he sincerely wished he could work in it to the end, not alone because he was curious about the fate of the young girl in the bad sheikh's power. Undoubtedly the sheikh would not prove to Ik a gentleman, but Merton would like to work to the end of the story because he had no place to sleep and but little assurance of wholesome food. Yet this, it appeared, was not to be. Already word hail run among the extra people. Those Glen Hunter as Merton. hired to-day were to be used for to-day only. To-morrow the desert drama would unfold without them. Still, he had a day's pay coming. This time, though, it would be but five dollars — his dress suit had not been needed. And five dollars would appease Mrs. Patterson for another week. Yet what would be the good of sleeping if he had nothing to eat? He was hungry now. Thin soup, ever so plenteously spiced with catsup, was inadequate provender for a working artist. He knew, even as he sat there crosslegged, an apparently self-supporting and care-free Bedouin, that this ensuing five dollars would never be seen by Mrs. Patterson. ■""There were a few more shots of the *■ cafe's interior during which one of the the inmates carefully permitted his halfconsumed cigarette to go out. After that a few more shots of the lively street which, it was now learned, was a street in Cairo. Earnest efforts were made by the throngs in these scenes to give the murderous camel plenty of head room. Some close-ups were taken of the European tourists while they bargained with a native merchant for hammered brassware and rare shawls. The bad sheikh was caught near the group bending an evil glare upon the beauteous English girl, and once the camera turned while she faced him with r. little shiver of apprehension. Later the sheikh was caught bargaining for a camel train with the innocent-looking old gentleman in the sun-hat. Undoubtedly the sheikh was about to lead them into the desert for no good purpose. A dread* ful fate seemed to be in store for the girl, but she must be left to face it without the support of Merton Gill. The lately hired extras were now dismissed. They trooped back to the dressing-room to the little window through which he had received his robe, and his slip was returned to him signed