Eyes blotted and makeup replaced as needed, it was time to raise money for the cause.

No sign identified the site of the gathering in posh south-of-the-Boulevard Encino.

But none was needed. Just follow the serpentine line of parked Jaguars, Mercedes and Rolls Royces--including one with a uniformed chauffeur with one foot on the front bumper--and parvenu Cadillacs.

Was this a private screening of the next blockbuster? Or were baby moguls taking a meeting--maybe to plot a studio takeover?

Hardly. Tonight the subject was animals. This meeting was to raise funds to support the noisy nationwide movement to protect beasts large and small from those who would shoot them, trap them, fish them, poison them in the name of agriculture or cut them up in the name of science.

It used to be called the anti-vivisection movement, and its chief targets were women in fur coats and individual research scientists who experimented on animals in the hope of finding a cure for, say, cancer or heart disease.

Lately it’s been repackaged as the animal-rights movement. And its quarry has been expanded to include growers of veal calves, rodeo riders and heavyweight groups that support laboratory experimentation on animals, including the American Heart Assn., the American Cancer Society and the National Head Injury Foundation.

It appears to be a growing movement, and its leaders are pointing toward a March for the Animals next June 10 in which a horde of animal activists will descend on Washington and stay until their not-yet-formulated demands are met.

The collection of pricey cars was proof that the animal rights movement has secured a position among the better-off.

It was not clear whether the bejeweled crowd of not-quite-top-rank showbiz luminaries that went with these vehicles were the people who write indignant letters protesting whaling or the ones who don ski masks to break into labs and liberate monkeys.

Actor Michael Bell, the host, said he would be busting down lab doors, “but my wife won’t let me.”

Others praised the break-ins but disclaimed any knowledge of who the commandos are.

At one point, a knot of people gathered around two bearded, stylish young men, one of whom was leading-edge Hollywood in beige linen suit, ponytailed hair and Gucci loafers without socks.

A few words drifted beyond the circle. “. . . find the right combination . . . has to be a way . . .”

Was another UCLA Med School break-in being plotted?

But then a few more words came through the din: “. . . sure we can fund this film . . .”

No break-in plot here, except maybe into a studio’s bank account.

Hostess Victoria Bell (viewers of “Hunter” and “Alice” will know her by her stage name, Victoria Carroll) traced the family’s step-by-step involvement in the movement, leading to its present-day policy of “never eating anything that once had a face on it.”

Her sincerity and passion were such that no smart-aleck reporter was going to ask whether that included a sunflower.

Those who scoff at the movement say that carried to its reductio ad absurdum, it would result in laws making it a misdemeanor to trap a mouse or send a mosquito to the choir invisible.

But there were no scoffers in this multikarat crowd.

Most were women, only a few of whom brought their husbands. Maybe the males were out trying to hunt deer or hook marlin.

Tears flowed as Thomas H. Regan, one of the movement’s leading lights and the featured speaker, told of a family’s cat being stolen by sinister men in an “out-of-state van” who were collecting animals for a research laboratory.

Carefully coiffed heads nodded as Regan, a professor of philosophy at North Carolina State University, excoriated the “biomedical community, which is more powerful and more sinister than the military-industrial complex.”

This community, he said, is run by the captains of industry who, to buttress the health warning labels on everyday products, regularly authorize the force-feeding of oven cleaner, brake fluid and detergents to test how many beagles and cats die at various levels.

“It’s the blackest of black crimes because it’s legal,” he said to a murmur of approval.

The speech over, all eyes blotted and makeup checked and replaced as needed, it was time to raise money for the cause--to “put our money where our bark is,” said Michael Bell.

Diana Basehart, widow of actor Richard Basehart and another mover and shaker on behalf of animal rights, pledged $1,000 and began collecting checks and pledges from others.

When contributions lagged, businessman Gil Michaels, who bankrolls a slick monthly magazine, The Animals’ Voice, angrily demanded more from “those of us living in our castles in Beverly Hills and Los Angeles.”

In the end, nearly $6,000 was raised, and the evening was an unquestioned success.

Buffet dinner was pasta and vegetables, and no one blanched when a black cat strolled across the dining table during dessert. And no one swatted a mosquito.

T.W. McGarry has been promoted to an editing position. Starting today, several reporters will take turns writing this column.