“Mr. Henshaw, pausing in his task of effecting certain changes in the interior of the island hut, reassured me. ‘You need have no fear about your meeting with Gill,’ he said. ‘You will find him quite simple and unaffected, an artist, and yet sanely human.’ It was now that he revealed his own part in the launching of this young star. ‘I fancy it is not generally known,’ he continued, ‘that to me should go the honour of having “discovered” Gill. It is a fact, however. He appeared as an extra one morning in the cabaret scene we used in Miss Mercer’s tremendous hit, The Blight of Broadway. Instantly, as you may suppose, I was struck by the extraordinary distinction of his face and bearing. In that crowd composed of average extra people he stood out to my eye as one made for big things. After only a moment’s chat with him I gave him a seat at the edge of the dancing floor and used him most effectively in portraying the basic idea of this profoundly stirring drama in which Miss Mercer was to achieve one of her brightest triumphs. “‘Watch that play to-day; you will discover young Gill in many of the close-ups where, under my direction, he brought out the psychological, the symbolic--if I may use the term--values of the great idea underlying our story. Even in these bits he revealed the fine artistry which he has since demonstrated more broadly under another director. “‘To my lasting regret the piece was then too far along to give him a more important part, though I intended to offer him something good in our next play for Muriel Mercer--you may recall her gorgeous success in Her Father’s Wife--but I was never able to find the chap again. I made inquiries, of course, and felt a really personal sense of loss when I could get no trace of him. I knew then, as well as I know now, that he was destined for eminence in our world of painted shadows. You may imagine my chagrin later when I learned that another director was to reap the rewards of a discovery all my own.’