STILL A MYSTERY.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 35, 11 February 1935, Page 5

STILL A MYSTERY.

ISLAND "EMPRESS." i i DISAPPEARS WITH MATE. HAPPY, CAREFREE COUPLE. (By EMORY .TOFTXSOX, Picture Director.) HOLLYWOOD, December $1. To the mounting toll of tragic death and mysterious happenings in the Galapagos Islands has been added the strange disappearance of the picturesque' Baroness Eloisa Bosouet von Wagner Wehrborn and her bronzed mate, Robert Phillipson. These two vanished last summer from their tropical paradise,,wrought out of parched lava, scraggly thorn brush and cactus on-Charles Island in that volcanic equatorial group oil' the Ecuadorian coast. I remember them as a happy, carefree couple, full of life and vigour, and apparently satisfied with their hardwrought existence far from civilisation. The Baroness, as I recall her, was nothing like the domineering, imperious person she has been pictured in recent stories from the Galapagos. We made a short- motion picture together a year ago, when I accompanied a former expedition. It was a satire on their mode of living, called "Paradise in the Galapagos." She played the feature well, and I must confess she took direction a lot better than many experienced actresses that it has been my privilege to direct. Much to my pleasure, 1 played opposite her in this 10-millimetre production, whhdi wasj made solely for our own amusement' and not for any commercial purpose.! Those who have seen it agree that the; baroness displayed emotional abilities far from amateurism. Weird Tales. There were 20 of us aboard our fishing vessel as we approached Charles Island last January. We had all heard weird tales about this supposed pirate

queen. We heard, for instance, how she had captured two* defenceless shipwrecked men, one of them with his bride, and held the trio prisoner for days without food or water, only to put them adrift in an open boat.

But we learned that, after, all, she had provided them witii a single oar, so that.'- they might paddle to some other gob of lava in the South Seas';

I There also were stories that this [ modern Cleopatra was not satisfied with jone mate, but had gone to this remote desert isle with three male companions, there to escape modern social ethics and criticism. There were two men with her—Phillipson and a man named Alfred Rudolph Lorenz, whose body recently was found on Marcheiia Island, some 200 miles distant. The third man was an Ecuadorian, whom she had employed solelv to build her a home on Charles Island. I was in the photographic dark room when someone told me that the baroness had arrived on board. Somehow it fell to my lot to be seated at dinner next to the baroness. She looked up at me. her large blue eyes beaming, her long golden hair flowing carelessly down her back. Across the table sat Phillipson, a rugged bronzed Adonis of athletic build, with long, black, wavy hair. By Phillipson's side sat Lorenz, tall, slim—almost a skeleton poor chap, for he had fallen ill. ./ The baroness spoke very good English, with a slight Hungarian accent —a cheerful, jaunty, loquacious'' person who bore every evidence of social experiences in the better European circles. Could this be the barbarous person whom I had expected to meet,?" Certainly she seemed kindly enough, wenerous and hospitable. We spent several days at Charles Island, during which we filmed the short motion picture. She tkdd me how she came to be isolated in this strange, rugged spot. "There Is Our Paradise." She and Phillipson,' who she said was her husband, were in a Parisian night club, with their friend, Lorenz, who had contracted tuberculosis. They were tired of thickly-populated.cities,'and wanted to take Lorenz to some spot where he might regain his health. An attache of the Ecuadorial Government was seated at the next table. He told them he could arrange with his Government for them to rise one of the uninhabited islands of the Galapagos group.' The idea suited tlieiu perfectly, and in due

time they sailed for Guayaquil. There they obtained the handyman carpenter who stayed with them on the island long enough to build their home. It wasn't a bad place at all.

The Baroness invited us up to tea. As we approached a small green-covered patch, about the size of an acre, she remarked: "Look! There is our paradise. What do you think of it?"

It really was very wonderful. There were terraced gardens hoed out of the lava, and all sorts of wild tropical growths had been tamed and trained to grow just how and where they wanted them. These provided luxurious fruits and roots for food. On the hillsides roamed wild cattle, wild pigs and even wild chickens, left there year* before by colonists who had failed to realise their hopes and ambitions. I was amazed to think that these people had been able to accomplish so much on this mass of lava so short a time after they landed, there with nothing but their overnight bags. It almost looked as if magic, had done the trick. Phillipson came in from the kitchen with five or six huge juicy steaks on a plank in the shape of a platter. "How about some steaks?" lie cried. This, for tea! .."'-. Phillipsou ate three of the steaks himself, without benefit of knife or fork, picking them iip as one would an ear of. boiled corn. The Baroness ate two. I marvelled at their appetites. Their meat did not keep long in their air-cooled refrigerator, but, when the supply was low, all they had to do was to go out and shoot another wild hull. . The Baroness and Phillipson have disappeared. But, unless they are at the bottom of the sea, they should be well able to take care of themselves, wherever they are. — (N.A.N.A.)