Kennedy stooped over, making a superficial examination of the
girl. I saw that some faint odor caught his nostrils, for he
remained poised a moment, inhaling reflectively, his eyes clouded
in thought. Then he went to the windows, raising the shades an
additional few inches each, but that did not seem to give him the
light he wished.

In the room were the portable arcs used in the making of scenes
in an actual interior setting. The connections ran to heavy
insulated junction boxes at the ends of two lines of stiff black
stage cable. Near the door the circuits were joined and a single
lead of the big duplex cord ran out along the polished hardwood
floor, carried presumably to the house circuit at a fuse box
where sufficient amperage was available. Kennedy's eyes followed
out the wires quickly. Then, motioning to me to help, he wheeled
one of the heavy stands around and adjusted the hood so that the
full strength of the light would be cast upon Stella. The arc in
place, he threw the switch, and in the sputtering flood of
illumination dropped to his knees, taking a powerful pocket lens
from his waistcoat and beginning an inch by inch examination of
her skin.

I gained a fresh realization of the beauty of the star as she lay
under the dazzling electric glow, and in particular I noticed the
small amount of make-up she had used and the natural firmness of
her flesh. She was dressed in a modish, informal dinner dress, of
embroidered satin, cut fairly low at front and back and with
sleeves of some gauzelike material reaching not halfway to her
elbow, hardly sleeves at all, in fact.