I, Spy - 6 Espionage & Detective Books in One Edition. Frederic Arnold Kummer
all, I begin to feel very doubtful as to the results. This woman, whoever she is, that is persecuting Miss Morton seems to be mighty clever. She may not be affected in the way you think, by what she sees on the screen."
"I realize that. It is only a chance. But don't you think that, under the circumstances, it is a chance worth taking?"
"Most certainly; otherwise I should not have consented to it. But, as I say, I doubt very much its success."
"Well—we can only try. You will remember what I said about the lights, and the call for a doctor, if one appears to be needed."
"Yes. I have all that in mind. Miss Morton is not coming to-night, I presume."
"No. I advised against it."
"I'm glad of that."
Duvall sat in silence for a moment.
"By the way," he said presently. "There is one important matter that I have overlooked. Do you give your employees passes for these opening performances?"
"No—not regularly, that is. But any member of our organization who wishes to see the performance would of course be admitted. We reserve a section of the house for that purpose. A number of our people usually come over."
"Good! That's just what I had hoped for. Where is this section?"
"The last five rows on the left-hand side of the house. But why?"
"Don't you see? All the evidence points to the fact that the person who is responsible for these threats either works in your studio, or is in some way able to gain access to it at any time. Witness the stolen photograph—the substituted telegram of this morning. In the latter it was definitely stated that the woman in the case would be in the audience to-night. I am hoping sincerely that she will not have the cleverness to enter as one of the public, but will come in as one of your people, and sit in the section of the house reserved exclusively for your employees. In that event, I think we shall discover who she is beyond a doubt."
"I certainly hope so," sighed Mr. Baker. "This thing has got us all up in the air. Our President had a long conference with me this afternoon about Miss Morton. He seems to think she is going to pieces, and recommended trying to get Joan Clayton away from the Multigraph people to take her place. He says that she is losing her good looks. I told him nothing, of course, but it worried me a lot. I am very fond of Ruth Morton, and I don't want to see her lose her place."
"She won't lose it," asserted Duvall. "When we get through, her position with your company will be stronger than it has ever been before. Shall we go out in the lobby and take a look at the crowd as it comes in?"
Mr. Baker assented, and the two men stationed themselves near the box office.
Without appearing to do so, Duvall inspected the various members of the incoming crowd. His scrutiny was careful, comprehensive, but the only person he recognized was Grace.
That she also recognized him he knew. She had seen the disguise he wore, many times, and was familiar with it. She did not betray herself, however, by so much as a glance, but proceeded at once to her seat.
When the moment arrived for the beginning of the performance, the house was filled. Duvall, with Baker at his side, stationed himself back of the left-hand section of seats, so that the rows reserved for the employees of the company were directly in front of him. He occupied himself, during the interval before the lights were switched off, by noting carefully all the women in the last five rows, but none of them attracted his attention particularly.
Soon the performance began. Ruth Morton, the American Beauty, stepped upon the screen, a compelling vision of loveliness. The audience followed eagerly her exciting adventures. Duvall himself, in spite of his preoccupation, found himself absorbed by the charm and action of the picture. In the opening scenes, Ruth appeared as a poor girl, trying to make her way in the great world of the theater. Her struggles, her sacrifices, her failures, were almost vividly portrayed. When at last, through her marvelous beauty, she succeeded in gaining recognition from the critics, he applauded with those about him, completely under the spell of her charm.
The final scene of the first part was a view of Ruth, as Catherine Grey, the American Beauty, refusing the dubious offers made her by a rich New Yorker. With a faith in herself by no means assumed, Catherine turned from his picture of luxury, of steam yachts, of country estates, of unlimited bank accounts, with a smile which showed her confidence in her beauty, her talents. The audience watched her, spellbound, as she stood on the sidewalk before the theater, looking with grave inscrutable eyes after the costly limousine that had just driven away without her. In no picture heretofore taken of the girl had she appeared to better advantage. Every line of her lovely face seemed responsive to the effect of the lighting, the situation, the motives which inspired her. The audience drew itself back, ready to register its approval of the first part of the film with hearty applause.
And then, something happened. The lovely, smiling face of Ruth Morton faded from view, and in its place came with brutal suddenness the picture of a huge grinning death's head, amazing in its suggestion of horror. The audience sat in utter silence, wondering what could be the reason for this sudden apparition. Beneath the death's head appeared in huge letters the words:
"We know the woman."
The thing had come as a complete surprise. The tension throughout the house was electric. Duvall saw his wife rise from her seat on the aisle, a few rows away, and come quickly to the rear of the house. She, at least, realized that a moment of importance had arrived.
And then, without warning, the stillness of the theater was broken by a sudden cry, and a woman, sitting some three rows from where Duvall stood, but on the opposite side of the aisle from the seats indicated by Mr. Baker, rose to her feet, turned, and fell heavily against the back of the seat ahead of her. At almost the same moment the lights were switched on, and a voice was heard calling. "Is there a doctor in the house?"
It was Mr. Baker, and Duvall, who stood beside him, sprang forward at once.
"I am a doctor," he cried, and approached the place where the woman sat.
"Can I be of any assistance?" Grace asked. "I am a trained nurse."
"Yes," replied Duvall, quickly. "Get this woman to the ladies' dressing room at once."
Grace sprang forward. There was a bustle among the audience, a sudden rising, a craning of necks. Everyone seemed to be looking for the person who had uttered the sudden cry. Before anyone fully realized what had happened, Grace had reached the fainting woman's side, and supporting her with an arm about her waist, was leading her toward the rear of the house.
Almost at once the theater became dark, and the second part of the picture was flashed upon the screen. The lovely face of Ruth Morton once more greeted the eyes of the audience. The interruption had occupied less than a minute.
Duvall, standing at the entrance to the aisle, watched Grace come quickly toward him, supporting the fainting woman. The latter seemed completely overcome, and Grace was obliged almost to carry her.
"Keep her there, in the dressing room, until I return," he said in a quick whisper. Then with a nod to Mr. Baker, who stood close by, he went toward the street. A taxicab drew up, awaiting a fare. Duvall signaled to it.
"Wait for me here," he said to the driver. "I will be back in a moment." Then he re-entered the theater.
Grace meanwhile had conducted the woman to the ladies' dressing room, and placed her upon a couch.
She was a frail, insignificant looking creature, not at all the sort of person one would associate with threats of the kind that Ruth Morton had been receiving. She appeared to be greatly ashamed of her sudden collapse, and kept insisting, in spite of her evident weakness, that she was quite all right again, and wanted to go.
Grace, however, paid no attention to her protestations, but insisted that she remain quiet.
"The doctor will be here in a moment," she said. "You must wait quietly until he comes."
The woman, however, seemed determined to leave, and it was with