People rushed in. Everything was done to hide the crime. The girl
was carried out into a waiting automobile, propped in as if
overcome by alcohol and whisked away. I found myself almost
looking to see if the car was of the make of Warrington's, so
great was the impression the scene made on me. Of course it was
not, but it all seemed so real that one might be pardoned for
expecting the impossible, especially when her body was thrown,
with many a muttered imprecation, by the roadside, and in the last
picture the man was cleaning the exploded gun. One single still
picture followed. It was a huge, enlarged cartridge.
I followed the thing with eager eyes and ears. From a long list of
canned and reeled plays, Garrick had selected here and there such
scenes and acts as, interspersed with a few single, original
pictures of his own, like the cartridge, would serve best to
recapitulate the very case which we had been investigating. It
carried me along step by step, wonderfully.
Another moving and talking picture was under way.
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