Then I take the pictures.
"Here, you see, are the lungs in slow or rapid respiration. There
is the rhythmically beating heart, distinctly pulsating in perfect
outline. There is the liver, moving up and down with the
diaphragm, the intestines, and the stomach. You can see the bones
moving with the limbs, as well as the inner visceral life. All
that is hidden to the eye by the flesh is now made visible in
striking manner."
Never have I seen an audience at the "movies" so thrilled as we
were now, as Kennedy swayed our interest at his will. I had been
dividing my attention between Kennedy and the extraordinary beauty
of the famous Russian dancer. I forgot Anginette Phelps entirely.
Kennedy placed another film in the holder.
"You are now looking into the body of Montague Phelps," he
announced suddenly.
We leaned forward eagerly. Mrs. Phelps gave a half-suppressed
gasp. What was the secret hidden in it?
There was the stomach, a curved sack something like a bagpipe or a
badly made boot, with a tiny canal at the toe connecting it with
the small intestine.
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