The Chinese Parrot (Charlie Chan Detective Series) — page 319: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

= The sequence being shot at the moment involved, evidently, the use of many extras, and a huge crowd stood about, waiting patiently. The faces of most of them were vital and alive, unforgettable. Here were people who had known life—and not too much happiness—in many odd corners of the world. Nearly all the men were in uniform—a war picture, no doubt. Bob Eden heard snatches of French, German, Spanish; he saw in the eyes about him a hundred stories more real and tragic than any these people would ever act on the silver screen. "Leading men and women are standardized, more or less," said Paula Wendell, "but the extras—they're different. If you talked with some of them, you'd be amazed. Brains and refinement—remarkable pasts—and on the bargain counter now at five dollars a day." A call sounded, and the extras filed on to the set and took their allotted stations at the various tables. Chan watched fascinated; evidently he could stay here forever. But Bob Eden, sadly lacking in that lovely virtue, patience, became restless. "This is all very well," he said. "But we have work to do. How about Eddie Boston?" "I have his address for you," the girl replied. "I doubt whether you'll find him in at this hour, but you can try.” An old man appeared in the shadowy space behind the cameras. Eden recognized the veteran player who had 319 comiicboeoe S CO