DOUBLE EXPOSURE.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 181, 1 August 1936, Page 14 (Supplement)

DOUBLE EXPOSURE.

UrjARDON my confusion, ma'am. For £ a moment, I thought myself in the world of faery." In her astonishment at hearing these words, Mrs. Twigg took a step back into the world of her suburban villa. She had opened the door on this summer morning to find herself confronted by a wispish little man, whose extravagantly "curved bouler hat was as green as the. scrap of velvet on his faded overcoat. "What do you want?" Mrs. Twigg asked, with enough sharpness to disguise her embarrassment. Mrs. Twigg, although proud of the efforts she made in social service, was realistic enough to realise that there was nothing fairy-like in her own figure, and that the good health of her skin was the most attractive feature of the round face bordered by her black, severely bobbed hair. But the little man was not rebuffed.

"For a moment, ma'am," he said, drawing a hand down his drooping, red moustache. "I thought myself back in my old profession. Yes, madam, you may find it hard to believe but there was a time when I was famed as a connoisseur of beauty. The name of the theatrical producer by whom I was employed can scarcely have escaped your notice if you are in the habit of scanning our national Press. But he must be' nameless. "Yet he is famed for the beauty of his chorus and show ladies—a veritable Paris by repute t The fact is, madam, that I was employed to choose the fair ones who have adorned his celebrated productions. For five years I have been in charge of his auditions. Yes, madam, thousands of our most beautiful English roses have paraded before me. I have held the fate of these little ladies in my hands."

Ik;

"What do you want?" Mrs. Twigg repeated, when she was able to make herself heard. • • • •

By Mr. Wilks' side stood a large, battered suitcase, and, quickly opening it, he produced a black, box camera.

"Certainly not," Mrs. Twigg said, backing from her visitor, "I must go."

"But, madam! I need detain you very little longer. King Sol has unfortunately declined to bless us with his beams on this memorable occasion and the light is inadequate for one of my characteristic art studies. I wish to ask only one more favour from your hands. Deign to accept this unworthy instrument and use it at your leisure."

"But what for?" Mrs. Twigg gasped, astonished to find the camera in lier hands.

William Charles Wilks curled one moustache with a flourish. "A mere bagatelle!" he cried. "Two pounds."

"You mean—two pounds for this thing?"

Flinching before the insult, Mr. Wilks closed his watery eyes in an effort to convey the sense of his weariness. "Madam," he said, "you fail to catch my meaning, I think. It is a delicate matter. One must be careful." Having looked round as if expecting to see a spy in every doorway, Mr. Wilks picked up his suitcase. "May I come in ?" lie inquired and, before Mrs. Twigg could reply, entered the house, carefully closing the door behind him. •' • • • Sweeping his bowler hat almost to the ground, he motioned his hostess to a chair and then timidly seated himself in front of her. "Madam," he said in a loud whisper, "I need hardly remind you of the importance of seizing every opportunity. "At the present moment, I happen to be touring the country in search for talent. "Now, I have seen you many times, madam, and decided some time ago that my employer would certainly make you an offer. "Now, madam, I know that you will be eager to adopt a career behind the footlights." . "Oh, of course," Mrs. Twigg said, "I've alwa,ys longed for a.chance on the stage." She was beginning to feel an intolerable curiosity about her unexpected visitor. "I knew it," said Mr. Wilks, with satisfaction. "Now I will indicate the procedure. I intend to leave this camera with you. I beg you to take a number of poses of yourself—a friend, no doubt, will oblige you by taking the snaps. "I will leave you the address to which the snaps are to be sent. Of course, they are for the revue producer, just to provide him with the requisite evidence that I have discovered the actress he is needing. And you will hear from the gentleman in due course."

"And • the two pounds," Mrs. Twigg suddenly asked, "what is that for?"

Mr. Wilks shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. "Merely a deposit,", he said. "If you are not desirous of keeping the camera, of course, we will take it back."

"Will you excuse me?" Mrs. Twigg asked. "I must find my purse."

Alone in the hall of the villa, Mr. Wilks began to pace up and down, throwing back his narrow shoulders, humming a tune through his reedy moustache. He was satisfied that he had done an excellent piece of-ivork.

Turning, as he heard Mrs. Twigg come down the stairs, he was surprised to notice that she was carrying two photographs of herself.

(SHORT STORY.)

(By GEORGE G. SAMUEL.)

"Oh, Mr. Wilks," she said, "I shan't need the camera after all. I've got plenty of photographs of myself." . "Hin," he murmured, when he had given tliem a cursory glance, "they're not bad. But they're not good enough for my boss, I'm afraid." "But they were taken by my husband," Mrs. Twigg said softly; "he happens to bo quite a well-known photographer. Leslie Twigg." Mr. Wilks gave the photographs another vindictive glance. "Tliey won't do, madam," he said curtly, "we've got to have the photographs a special size. The size of this camera. You sec, madam, we have special frames for them and we put them in there when my employer wishes to make his inspection." "Oh," said Mrs. Twigg, "I see. Then I shall have to have the camera. And the name of the producer."

Mr. Wilks timidly advanced one hand to take two pound notes which he could see in Mrs. Twigg's handbag.

"The name of the producer?" Mrs. Twigg insisted, drawing the handbag out of liis grasp.

"James Brown," Mr. Wilks furiously whispered. "At the Kytz Theatre, W. 4."

Now, the handbag closed suddenly, the pound notes disappearing behind it.s zip fastener.

"James Brown," Mrs. Twigg murmured, "that's very strange. My husband happens to take all his photographs. He has done for many years."

The suitcase was now held firmly in Mr. Wilks' hand, the bowler hat was placed firmly on his head.

"I can see," he said with surprising roughness, "you don't need my help, madam. When you've got the entree already!"

"And I don't need the camera, either," Mrs. Twigg said sweetly, handing back the black instrument.

"Good morning, madam," said Mr. Wilks, furious to have wasted so much of his time. But he was not to he allowed to depart so easily, for Mrs. Twigg stood over the door. "I suppose you tell that story to everybodj r , Mr. Wilks." "I don't know what you mean, ma'am." "You play on the vanity of wretched stage-struck girls. You tell them you're working for a revue producer and can get them a job. And they're ready to believe anything. You can swindle them just as you like. Of course, they take one of those wretched Cameras and pay ten times more than it's worth.

"When they discover it won't even take a photograph, they find it a little difficult to get the 'deposit' back. Naturally, you never come back. I think I must report you to the police." Mr. Wilks was unable to weather the storm. "I was desperate, ma'am," he mufc tered at last, in a choking voice, "tha fact is, ma'am—the fact is I've been sacked by the camera people." "You've been sacked! Then why. .. ." "I've worked for them over ten years, ma'am. And I've never told nobody the tale I've pitched to-day. I've sold thousands of these cameras honest, ma'am, but they kicked me out a week ago. Gave me a week's wages, that's all. And I've got four kiddies, ma'am. I had to do something." Mrs. Twigg looked round wildly, trying to find some balm for her conscience. "But I don't understand," she said in a bewildered voice. "Why are you selling cameras—if you've been dismissed?" . Mr. Wilks pulled nervously at his moustache and then blew his long, red nose. "They let me keep my stock, ma'am. That's all I've got between me and the workhouse." Rising wearily, he reached for his suitcase. "If I can't get rid of them," he muttered, "God knows what we'll do." As he was opening the door, a disconsolate, broken-down figure, Mrs. Twigg sprang after him. "I'm sorry," she said, "I really am." She searched feverishly in her bag. "Look! I would like one of your cameras after all." » « # • When Leslie Twigg returned home that evening, he immediately noticed the worthless camera on the hall tabic. "How on earth, did you come by that thing?" he shouted into the kitchen. Mrs. Twigg ran out to tell him the whole story of the camera salesman who pretended to be a theatrical "talent spotter."

"Isn't it scandalous, darling," she concluded, "the way these firms behave? Sacking him after all that time. And gave him only one week's money." "Yes," said Leslie, "some of them are pretty brutal. Shall I ring them up and tell them what you think of them?" Over the telephone, Leslie Twigg held a conversation with the manager of the obscure camera company. "And my wife," he concluded, "thinks it's pretty scandalous, old man, that you sacked old Wilks like that." -< "What's that!" shouted the manager, as if unable to believe his ears. "We'd never think of sacking Wilks. He's the best salesman ever born." And Leslie Twigg was such an admirable fellow, he actually refrained from telling Mrs. Twigg.