The Talkie Murder

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Sudden Darkness—the Grim Hand of Death Strikes—And the Unknown Murderer There on the Movie Lot!

ON THE sound stage of the Ajax Picture Studios the members of the cast had resumed the exact positions they had occupied before lunch. Chalk lines, resembling the outlines of so many pairs of feet, enabled them do this to the satisfaction of the exacting Tad Boone.

It was the climax of "Processional," from the play of the Russian master, and the famous director, after six weeks of tireless effort, was confident that he had achieved the great picture of his career. Momentarily the tense look left his face, and his smile embraced the eleven characters. Then he frowned once more. "Lights!" he barked. "All set!" A dazzling shower of light fell on the stage, and from the sides a battery of Kliegs projected their blinding shafts.

"Miss Storme," he said, in more gentle tones, as he looked at the still-faced leading woman, "your cue is 'you lie!'—and then you denounce Leonid... You work yourself into a fury gradually—your motions become more violent— in the end you are like a creature demented... And then you break—the storm of your words ends in mad gibberings—you fall at the feet of the man who has betrayed you!"

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