The Film of Fear

by Frederic Arnold Kummer

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?"