Miranda of the Movies.

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 136, 10 June 1926, Page 20

Miranda of the Movies.

By ERIC LEACROFT. Author of "Winter Corn," "Silversands," Etc., Etc.

CHARTER VI. At almost the moment when her father was exchanging greetitigs with the producer of "Bonnets across the Border," Janet turned up at the MilieuAim studies at Edgware for her first and much dreaded rehearsal, which she was now firmly convinced would be her last. She reported at once to Mr. Vim Quisten, who passed her on with a preoccupied wave of the hand to Mr. Rarhanidicur's assistant, a young man of disillusioned aspect who contrived to look more disillusioned still at sight of her. Rut before she had time to take his greeting to heart n loud bellow from the managing director's desk made her turn round. "Oh, here:" cried Mr. Van Quisten. ''Come!'" "Mc?" queried Janet, a little shakily. "Sure, 1 want to have another look nt yon." Si) the end had come already. Mr. Van Quisten had evidently repented, mi seeing her again, of having yielded in Miriam's recommendation. She: had passed muster in the office, but she could hardly hope to survive inspection in the hard and brilliant light of the studio. "Your name again?" demanded Mr. Van Quisten, regarding tier much as an expert in furniture might look at a piece of clumsily faked Chippendale. —''Janet Thorpe." "Aw, no. Think again." "Miranda May, then." "1 thought so. Well now, Miss May. I reckon I'm not going to want you here to-day. You can run away and play mail jongg." Having braced herself for the shock. Janet took it cooly. Perhaps she held her head a little higher than usual. "Thank you," she said. Rut she couldn't help adding, with a note of challenge, "I'm sorry." "Says which?" queried Mr. Van. Quisten. "Good morning,'' replied the rejected one. "One moment," lie commanded. "I haven't said what I aimed to say. About this 'Argus' stunt now. It's good." He rummaged on bis desk, found a newspaper and tapped with a solemn forefinger. Janet watched him, bewildered. "It sure is the dope. Say, you've got a pull with these folks?" He thrust the paper towards her, and Janet took it from him mechanically, feeling more puzzled than ever. Then something on the printed page caught her eye—something that made her gasp and that for the moment quite banished i Mr. Van Quisten's cryptic utterances from her mind. It was headed: "Cinema Star as Good Samaritan," and justified the allusion, more or less, by continuing thus:— " A runaway motor car, a popular film star and a gentleman well known in financial circles were the actors in an episode in the Fulham Palace Road last evening, which, but for the Litter's presence of mind, might have had tragic consequences. The car, which belongs to Mr. A. Jonah, who is well known in banking circles in the city, ran amok while the rush hour was at its height, collided with a lamp post and deposited its owner almost on the doorstep of Miss Miranda May, the well-known film favourite, who is starring in a forthcoming Millenium production. "Happily Miss May herself witnessed the mishap and promptly ordered the unfortunate gentleman to be carried into her house, where she rendered such prompt and capable first aid that Mr. Jonah was later able to proceed on his journey citywards with no more damage than severe shock and a number of minor contusions. The chauffeur also escaped with comparatively slight injuries, and the ambulance was not requisitioned. The car, however; was completely wrecked." Miss Kingdom had done her work promptly and well. Janet laid the paner aside with a sinking feeling at the pit of her stomach, and a curious sense of guilt. "I really can't think," she stammered, quite unconsciously beginning to plagiarise Mr. Vincent Crummies. But Mr. Van Quisten cut her short. "Never mind that, sister," said he. "It's a good boost and I'm the first to give you credit for it, though if you'd let us know promptly we might have worked it for half a column." "But it's—it's all wrong," gasped Janet. "It isn't even accurate. Why, it wasn't a lamp post at all." Mr. Van Quisten looked at her with an air of puzzle. "Do. I get you?" he inquired. "What has the lamp post to do with it?" "Nothing at all," said Miranda May. "That's what I said. And the whole thing—well, I can only say that I'm extremely sorry that they should have printed it like this, but it really wasn't my fault." ' "Forget it," said Mr. Van Quisten generously. "We can't all be experts, and I daresay I could have done it better. But for a maiden effort it's real good. Now run away and let poppa do some work. We're calling the stars for to-morrow at ten. Don't forget." He waved her away with a shower of cigar ash. But Janet stood her ground. She had to get the thing clear. "But—but am I dismissed?" she managed to ask. "Sure thing," said the managing director. "Clean dismissed till to-morrow at ten. Didn't I say so? Didn't I say we were calling the stars to-morrow? And ain't you a star?" "It says so in the paper," Janet agreed. "Then ain't it so? Girlie, you've got brains; don't let them addle on you. D'you think I'm going to pass a piece of a publicity stunt like that? Ain't you starred already in a million homes? If you're waiting for mc to hand you a bouquet I regret to say I haven't one by mc. And I'm busy ( To-morrow at ten." Mr. Van Quisten returned to his papers, and this time he presented such an unassailable wall of unconsciousness that Janet saw nothing for it but to accept her dismissal and go. CHAPTER VII. It was Mr. Van Quisten's boast that his was an all-star company nnd if Janet had known how elastic Ids definition of a star had become she would have been less astonished at the prompt result of Miss Kingdom's masterly tissue of inaccuracies. Yesterday she had been a prospective handmaiden. She had spent most of her time on her way down to the studio- in wondering what her role was to be, and fearing that she would never be able to fill it. She might have spared herself this exercise, for it turned out that her promotion to stardom was not to involve a change

of parts. Sim had been east as ;i liaiidmaidt'ii, and a handmaiden she would remain. ''Then what's the difference?" slie asked Dick Coverdalo, who liad sought her out on lier arrival and had handed her a script which . she was instructed to master in the interval of waiting for something to happen. "Oil, hardly any," said the author reassuringly. "One or two close ups, with corresponding alterations in the captions. You needn't worry." "At least I wish I knew what the story was about." He gave her a quick glance. "IVyou mean that?"' ""Why not:" "Only that you're the only member of the company thnt has so far shown the slightest interest in the story. Miriam always refuses to look at anything but her own part. She doesn't believe in loading her mind with useless information. Don't imagine thnt I'm worried by that. I'm nwd to it. and it seems to work all right. Authors, you know, are very small beer at this game, and if 1 didn't happen to be a kind of assistant producer and man of all work, nobody would take the smallest notice of mc. But if you really want to know the story, I'll" tell it to you at lunch." ITe hurried off before she could hint that her polite desire to orasp the thcniu of "Bonnets Across the Honlor' , did not necessarily commit her to wanting to lunch with its author. Anyway, she really wanted to know. She'was quite ready to believe that an experienced actress like iliriam could take any part that was handed out to her without worrying about how it fitted into the rest of the story. She didn't quite see how. but Dick Coverdale seemed to think it natural enough. .Still, she didn't feel equal to doing it herself. So she lunched with Dick Coverdale: and, incidentally, with most of the rest of the company, for it turned out that the neighbourhood afforded only one restaurant that found favour in the eyes of Millenium stars. She was a little surprised to find that all the dresses were brilliantly coloured. She had expected them to be in blacks. whites and greys. It seemed wasteful that this gay riot of colour should lie flaunted in front of an instrument thnt would reproduce nothing of it. She was to learn later that each colour had its own value in the eyes of the photographer, and that an expert could even tell from a glance at the film whether she had been wearing red or preen. In spite of the crowd of stars of varying magnitudes that thronged < he stulTy restaurant, nobody seemed to tak ( » any notice of Janet or even of Dick Coverdale, who had adroitly grabbed a small table in the window." Tt seemed hardly worth while 1" Janet to he at pains to put the son of an old servant at his ease, when he seemed to take her attitude for granted. She dallied with the temptation to assume the Thorpe manner; to put him. just for one moment, in his place, not because she had any false ideas of her own importance, but just to see if she could pierce his armour. She was to feel that temptation more slrongly as time went on. For the present she resisted it, and reminded him of his promse to tell her the story in which she was to take part; or, perhaps, was not to take part, for she still had a lurking fear that she would not survive her first ordeal in front of the camera. "As a matter of fact." declared Coverdale, "you know the story already." "Indeed, I don't," she protested. "Oh. I've read the scenario, of course, but it's far too technical for mc. 1 can't make head or tail of it. ' "You wouldn't. But I mean—well, it's your story, really.' "Mine?" "Sure thing. I mean, yes. That Van Quisten fellow ought to be isolated by the way. He infects us all. I shall lie talking* American in my sleep soon." "Miiie?" insisted Janet. "Well, yes, in a way. I stole it. It was really too good not to steal." "On the whole," said Janet resignedly, "I prefer the scenario. It's more illuminating." He sniiled at that, but not very happily. 'Tact is," he confessed, "I feel a little mean about it. Of course it isn't the first time I've poached on the Thorpe preserves, and in a way it's public property, but " He still hesitated, and Janet began to see light. "I know." She pointed an accusing forefinger at him. "You've bagged one of our stories." He nodded contritely. "I'm found out. I had to be sooner or later. I've taken the best of them. I've taken 'Red Janet'" She had to admit, when they came to talk it over, that he had poached wisely. The story of "Red Janet" had been told over every hearth in Thorpedalo for nearly five centuries, and its very survival proved its excellence. How much of it was legend, how much fact, even the antiquaries didn't know, but there seemed to be no reason why it should not appeal to a wider audience as it had appealed to so many generations of border folk, who have as wide an assortment of legends as any peasantry in the world. It happened—if it really happened at all—in the days when this outpost of England had fallen under the ruthless dominion of a Scottish earl who every day and in every way justified the nickname of Bloody Hamish that was bestowed on him by his admiring vassals. This noble ruffian, having occupied Thorpedale according to plan, had seized the castle after a fight that is said to have lasted twenty hours, and established himself as its master. Having earned, as he considered, a good dinner, he ordered twelve hinds to be roasted whole, and his army was bidden to a feast in the great hall, part of which still stands to-day, a magnificent monument to Thorpe's past greatness. One may still see the secret gallery that ran round it, twenty feet from the ground, hidden in the thickness of the wall. Hamish. and his followers laid ,isi le their sated swords and fell upon their meat. Dinner was accompanied by a novel entertainment devised, it was said, by Hamish himself. The remnant of the forces of Thorpe, made tip of such old men, women and children as had not escaped to hiding places in the moors, were brought into tho room where their enemies sat at table. Each was brought v turn before the Scottish leader and offered a choice between various forms of death. Whatever the choice, it was magnanimously acceded to. and the self-imposed sentence was carried out on the spot while the company ate and drank. Twenty had perished, says the old chronicle, in divers manners, some being hanged, some felled with' hammers, and others having their throats cut to the neck-bone—there were other methods too, which need not be recorded here—when the turn came for Janet, the sixteen-year-old daughter of the Thorpe himself to face the judge.

Hamish, struck by her great beauty, , would have spared her, but she fell on . her knees before him and implored that; she should have the same freedom as her j kinsmen to choos. her way of death. '. Earl Hamish raised her to her feet. | "Why should you lie?" asked Hamish. "Who are so young and fair?" j To which Janet is said to have! answered with great propriety that she i would die to save her youth from dis- j grace and her beauty from dishonour. ''How then would you die*" demanded.] Hamish. ''I would die," cried Janet, "killing i Scotsmen." And snatching from the j table the hunting kvaV, with which he had been carving his meat, she buried I it in his heart. As at a signal, a secret I door opened in the wall above and there) sprang to the floor of tho hall a score ! of young men armed with swords and dirks, who fell upon the astonished invaders and did great slaughter. i The rest of the story is obscure. In | one version both attackers and attacked j were exterminated, the heroine of j Thorpe being one of the first to fall to ! a Scottish sword. Others say that Red Janet escaped, protected by a young shepherd of Thorpedale who afterwards \ married her, and from whom the present i race of Thorpe : descended. The lat-! ter version has the official disapproval j of the family. Nor is it quite certain ' whether her nickname is derived from i the nature of her exploit or merely; comes from the colour of her hair. "In the film version," Dick explained, i "we call her Lady Dorothy. And we don't kill her, though I always inclined to the other ending." "So did I," said Janet. '"But, you see, we must have a love story," he said upologeticallv. "Why?" ■ ■ _ "Have you ever seen a film without; one ':" "I'd never," said Janet calmly, "seen a j film at all, until the day before yester• j day.' 5 i At this astounding confession Dick looked round anxiously to see if she had been overheard. He had heard thai there were people who had never travelled in a railway train, but it had never occurred to him that England contained anybody who had never been to a cinema, j "And who's t<. take the part of Janet:''! asked Janet. He explained t liat Miriav.i, heiuji thei stnr lady of the company, would natur-' ally play the central figure in the! story. J (To be continued daily.) I