Pictures and the Picturegoer (October 1915 - March 1916)

PICTURES AND THE PICTUREGOER 178 Wkf.k r.-: NoV. 27, 1915 Concerning Me' With Occasional References to Mr. Walthall. BY EDS A MAYO. A SLIGHT NOISE CAUSED BY THE OPENING 03 "HE DOOR ATTRACTED HE3 ATTENTION. in sepulchral silence, and Mrs. Dundore had retired to her room — her husband had not yet returned. She dismissed the maid, and sitting down before the mirror once more admired, for the twentieth time, the beautiful gift which had been the birthday present from her devoted husband. Placing it carefully on her dressingtable, she commenced to comb out her hair. A slight noise caused by the opening of the door attracted her attention. She looked up, expecting to see her husband. Instead, with a thrill of horror, she saw in the mirror before her the face of Richard Savage. " George (hay!'' she gasped. The man covered her with a revolver, and fear seemed to paralyse her tongue. She could neither speak again nor cry out. She rose from her seat as Richard cautiously advanced towards her, still pointing his revolver at her head. "' Give me that necklet, and I'll clear off," he said in a low tone; "but, by heaven! if you refuse " Mrs. Dundore moved a step further away from him. but still was unable to speak. " \)<> you hear me. hand over that necklet !" he repealed, and mechanically the |»ooi' woman gave him her husband's precious gilt. Richard snatched it from her. put it in his pocket, and was preparing to leave when footsteps were heard in the passage outside. Mi's, Dundore breathed freely once more, ami thanked (iod that her liusliad returned. Bui Richard had also heard the footsleps. and acted quickly. Tearing oil' his coal and waistcoat, he thrust the revolver into his pocket, and v> lien Dr. Dundore entered the bedroom he found his wife in the man's embraces. Utterly astonished, ihe Doctor stood and stared at the scene for a brief moment. Then he said very quietly, " Will you explain?" Richard answered the qnestion. " Your wife and I are old friends, and we did not expect you back so soon— that's all." " That's all— all ! Ton scoundrel ! How dare you?" began Dr. Dundore. He stopped suddenly and looked sternly at his helpless wife; the thought that her husband should take this man for her lover was unbearable, and Mrs. Dundore collapsed without a word of explanation. A maid was summoned, and while she was reviving her mistress Dr. Dundore ordered Richard to accompany him downstairs. Once in the morning-room the Doctor gave full vent tohis feelings. "Now tell me what you mean." he began. A sneer of defiance was the only answer to his question. It was too much for the Doctor, who seized his opponent's throat. Round and round the two men struggled, ornaments were broken, chairs and tables were overturned as the tight continued. But the huslun Is strength proved superior, and with a groan Richard finally fell with a thud to the floor. By this time the whole of the house was roused, and the police hid been summoned. At this time. too. a cablegram arrived for Mrs. Dundore from George Gray. It read : " Leftletter ni restaurant — regret delay in refusing invitation." This message, which threw much light on the mystery, brought Mrs. Dundore to her senses. and, descending to the morning-room, she found the police raising the almost senseless body of the BupposedGraj from the floor. "This man is Dick Savage one of the cleverest crooks in .New York!" exclaimed the policeman. iuued 011 lutct jx'i'i'.) I AM going to do a thing which ! like intensely, and that is to talk about myself. It is the Eg. fault. He savs that an article from would delight the hearts of ti. of his readers, so what is a p to do ? ■ Some time ago I was asked why 1 learned my part in screen-drama jnst as on the speaking sta^e. This idea seems to be regarded as unique; but I n. say that I onlv E very us and practical help to the photo-play actress. 1 believe that by mere theatrical and often ridiculous pantomime before the camera it is imppssibh portray the emotions with that which is possible by " suiting tl, to the word." It is quite true that I spend a great deal of time, as well as exercising a great amount of labour, in reading my parts, which, by the wa; made possible by the new Essauay system of writing complete dramas instead of mere scenarios. What prompts me to do it ? you will say. I believe in making photo-p a] 'proximate as nearly highest ideals of the speaking si I am quite sure this is possible. In fact it is being done. The public are ■_ more critical. Nowadays they want a drama that is beautiful and artistic, and the picture must carry a real story, with something behind it that the heart. The weak, inane plot ilonger tolerated. The photo-play pul is gradually demanding jnst as great m isterpieces as the singe public. The D eaJful Secret. And now to talk of more personal matters. Why is it that people always seem so very anxious to know the aj> an actress lly— and I must admit it— mv own sex : 1 receive numbei letters asking me for personal de'. about myself, and nearly all of them have one common request— to be told mv age. Weil, if you'll promise n to" breathe a word about it to auj I'll let you into the dreadful seer.'; 1 have actually attained the venerable of twenty-two summers, and pier. the same* number of winters'. I might also tell von that my weight is api matcly ninety-nine pounds fourteen and tl believe) a half oum Dike the lark. 1 rise extremely early in the mornings, and. unlike that estimable bird, in the winter-time I long walk before breakfast. In sum mv favourite early morning exercis to take a long swim half a mil more. M\ swimming capabilities proved very ill to me when 1 wis playing in II . for 1 had to swim a in the water for quite a long time, and was practically fully dressed. In picture Mr. Walthall, as my limit husband-to-be. rushes out of the church in the middle of the wedding ceremony