The Film Mystery | Page 7

that the
eyes were bulging slightly, that there was a bluish tinge to her skin such as in cyanosis or
asphyxiation. It may have been imagination, but I was now sure that her expression
revealed pain or fear or both.
When I looked at her first I had been unable to forget my impression of years. Before me
there had been the once living form of Stella Lamar, whom I had dreamed of meeting and
whom I had never viewed in actual life. I had lacked the penetration to see beneath the
glamour. But to Kennedy there had been signs of the poisoning at once. Doctor Blake had
searched merely for the evidences of the commoner drugs, or the usual diseases such as
cause sudden death. I recalled the cyanides. I thought of curare, or woorali, the South
American arrow poison with which Kennedy once had dealt. Had Stella received an
injection of some new and curious substance?
Mackay glanced up from his inspection of the mark on the arm.
"It's an awfully tiny scratch!" he exclaimed.
Kennedy smiled. "Yet, Mackay, it probably was the cause of her death."
"How?"
"That--that is the problem before us. When we learn just exactly how she scratched
herself, or was scratched--" Kennedy paced up and down in front of the fireplace. Then

he confronted each of us in turn, suddenly serious. "Not a word of what I have
discovered," he warned.

III
TANGLED MOTIVES
"Do you wish to examine the people now?" Mackay asked.
Kennedy hesitated. "First I want to make sure of the evidence concerning her actual death.
Can you arrange to have the clothes she has on, and those she brought with her, all of
them bundled up and sent in to my laboratory, together with samples of her body fluids as
soon as the coroner can supply you?"
Mackay nodded. This pleased him. This seemed to be tangible action, promising tangible
results.
Again Kennedy glanced about in thought. I knew that the scratch was worrying him. "Did
she change her clothes out here?" he inquired.
The district attorney brightened. "She dressed in a small den just off the living room. I
have a man posted and the door closed. Nothing has been disturbed."
He started to lead the way without further word from Kennedy, proud to have been able
once more to demonstrate his foresight
As we left the library, entering the living room, there was an appreciable hush. Here were
grouped the others of the party brought out by the picture company, a constrained
gathering of folk who had little in common beyond the highly specialized needs of the
new art of the screen, an assembly of souls who had been forced to wait during all the
time required for the trip of Kennedy and myself out from New York, who were
compelled to wait now until he should be ready to examine them.
I picked out the electrician in the semi-gloom and with him his fellow members of the
technical staff needed in the taking of the scenes in the library. The camera men I guessed,
and a property boy, and an assistant director. The last, at any event, of all those in the
huge room, had summoned up sufficient nonchalance to bend his mind to details of his
work. I saw that he was thumbing a copy of the scenario, or detailed working manuscript
of the story, making notations in some kind of little book, and it was that which enabled
me to establish his identity at a glance.
In a different corner were the principals, two men and a girl still in make-up, and with
them the director, and Manton and Phelps. Apart from everyone else, in a sort of social
ostracism common to the studios, the two five-dollar-a-day extras waited, a butler and a
maid, also in make-up. Oddly enough the total number of these material witnesses to the
tragedy was just thirteen, and I wondered if they had noticed the fact.
Doctor Blake turned to Kennedy the moment we left the library.
"Do you feel it is necessary for me to remain any longer?" he asked. He was apologetic,
yet distinctly impatient. "I have neglected several very important calls as it is."
Kennedy and Mackay both hastened to assure the physician that they appreciated his
co-operation and that they would spare him as much notoriety and inconvenience as
possible. Then the three of us hurried across and to the little den which had been
converted into a dressing room for Stella's use.
Here were all the evidences of femininity, the little touches which a woman can impart to
the smallest corner in a few brief moments of occupancy. It was a tiny alcove shut off
from the rest of the living room by heavy