II
The Crown is the oldest and most comfortable hotel in The Triangle, and Miss Trant had stayed on there because she liked the place and had been able to claim the small sitting-room upstairs for her own use. She was in there now, talking to Inigo Jollifant, who had just had lunch with her. These two were now very good friends indeed, and Inigo had been giving her all the news of the troupe, for she had only just returned from a visit‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe first since autumn‚ÅÝ‚Äîto Hitherton. On the little table were a number of papers, rough accounts, and letters, that she had been looking over during the morning.
‚ÄúI don‚Äôt know what to do,‚Äù she was saying, raising her voice as the wind rattled the old window-frames. ‚ÄúTo tell you the truth, I haven‚Äôt been able to think properly since I came back. I feel‚ÅÝ‚Äîdo you know?‚ÅÝ‚Äîrestless.‚Äù
‚ÄúMy own feelings, absolutely,‚Äù said Inigo. ‚ÄúIt‚Äôs the wind, I think‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe wind on the heath, brother. Spring‚Äôs on the way, that must be it.‚Äù
“On the way!” she cried. “It’s here.”
“Not here,” he corrected her gravely. “Not in Gatford. There may be a spot of it somewhere on the edge of Mundley or Stort. But tell it not in Gatford.”
‚ÄúWell, it may not be here, but it‚Äôs everywhere else. You should see the flowers at Hitherton‚ÅÝ‚Äîalready.‚Äù
Inigo looked at her curiously. ‚ÄúShall I tell you what I think? I think you‚Äôre tired of it‚ÅÝ‚Äînot of us‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
“Certainly not of you,” she interrupted. “None of you.”
“No, not of us, as people, but of the business itself. I suspect you’ve had enough now.”
Miss Trant laughed, quickly, nervously. ‚ÄúAnd I was thinking just the same about you all through lunch‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe very same thing‚ÅÝ‚Äîthat you were tired of it but would not admit it.‚Äù
“The two ama-chewers, eh! Had enough!” He thought for a moment. “No, I can’t say I’ve definitely felt that, not quite that.” He hesitated.
‚ÄúSuppose‚Äù‚ÅÝ‚Äîand she held him with a level glance‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚ÄúSusie left us?‚Äù The instant look of horror on his expressive face brought a smile to her own. ‚ÄúThere you are, you see,‚Äù she cried in friendly triumph.
‚ÄúAs a matter of fact,‚Äù he remarked, serious now, ‚ÄúSusie herself is rather restless. And she doesn‚Äôt seem to be particularly keen on this Bournemouth offer. None of the younger ones are, you know. Jerningham seems uneasy about it, and Elsie‚ÅÝ‚Äîwho you would think would jump at it‚ÅÝ‚Äîdoesn‚Äôt seem very interested. As I told you, it‚Äôs the old hands, Jimmy and the Joes and Mitcham, who are all for it and so worried because you won‚Äôt decide at once. They think it‚Äôs a marvellous offer, absolutely, and so it is from their point of view‚ÅÝ‚Äîresident season, guaranteed and all the rest of it. All their dreams come true.‚Äù
“I know, poor dears. It’s just what they’ve been wanting. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t accept it. After all, I needn’t be there, not all the time, need I?”
“Not at all. You can take the whole summer off, if you like.”
“But really I don’t like. That’s the trouble. Please don’t tell the others this, will you? But somehow the idea of going there, just settling down in Bournemouth for nearly six months doesn’t appeal to me, and on the other hand, I don’t just want to march off, though of course if they thought they could get on without me, I could leave altogether.”
‚ÄúOh, don‚Äôt do that,‚Äù cried Inigo, alarmed. ‚ÄúBesides, although we must be making money now‚ÅÝ‚Äîquite a lot, I imagine‚ÅÝ‚Äîyou can‚Äôt have got back all you‚Äôve spent yet.‚Äù
‚ÄúNo, I haven‚Äôt,‚Äù she admitted, with an involuntary glance at the papers on the table. ‚ÄúWe‚Äôre doing so wonderfully well here that there really is good profit, so good that I feel like a bloated profiteer and capitalist, but actually I‚Äôm still about two hundred pounds to the bad. And the people who have taken my house at Hitherton now say that all kinds of things must be done to it‚ÅÝ‚Äîit‚Äôs very old, you know, and has been rather neglected, and apparently I must do them and I shudder to think what it will cost.‚Äù
“Well, there you are then. You must carry on and rake in the dibs, shekels, or boodle. We can’t allow you to retire still losing on the show.”
‚ÄúI don‚Äôt want to retire,‚Äù she told him emphatically. ‚ÄúI should hate to. It‚Äôs just that‚ÅÝ‚Äîwell, like you‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI feel restless and don‚Äôt know what to do.‚Äù
“I rather think that Jimmy and Mitcham and possibly Joe, the anxious lads, are downstairs in the bar, in the hope of getting the latest bulletin or ultimatum. I rather think so.” Inigo concluded lightly.
“Oh dear!” Miss Trant stared at him. “I know they’re dreadfully anxious about the Bournemouth business. Inigo, will you please slip down and tell them to wait a little longer because I may want to see them? I can’t see them this minute though because I must make up my mind first. I hope waiting down there doesn’t mean having a lot of drinks.”
“It does,” replied Inigo gravely. “Always. And more especially at a crisis, when the beverages come to hand almost mechanically. However, I’ll slip down and tell them.” He went out but almost immediately afterwards popped his head in the door. “A gent to see you,” he announced. “Name of Ridvers and smell of whisky. Will you have a look at him?”
Miss Trant, surprised, said she would, and the next moment Inigo had gone and a heavy man, of a somewhat swollen and purplish cast of countenance, was standing in the doorway. His bowler hat was tilted towards the back of his head and he had a cigar in his mouth. He came in without removing either hat or cigar.
“I am Miss Trant,” rising and regarding him with no great favour. “Do you want to see me?”
“That’s it. My name’s Ridvers, and I don’t mind telling you I’m the Triangle New Era Cinema Company, Unlimited. Well known here, very well known, not a stranger to the district.” He paused, looked at her, then took out a cigar and looked at that, shooting a little cloud of smoke at his companion.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” said Miss Trant, stepping back from the smoke.
‚ÄúYou‚Äôre Miss Trant who‚Äôs running these what‚Äôs it Companions pierrot show, aren‚Äôt you?‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝRidvers heavily.
“Yes. What do you want?” And she looked pointedly first at the hat, then at the cigar, then at the whole man.
But Mr.¬ÝRidvers was not to be hurried. His manner said very plainly that he had his own methods of approach to a topic. He pursed up his thick lips, stuck the cigar between them again, half-closed his eyes and wagged his head, and then growled through the cigar: ‚ÄúDoing damn well here, aren‚Äôt you?‚Äù
“I beg your pardon?” Miss Trant looked at him in amazement.
“Not-at-all, not-at-all.” He rested himself against the back of a high chair, took out his cigar, stared at her, and said again: “Doing damn well here, aren’t you?”
Miss Trant still stared.
‚ÄúAnd do you know‚Äù‚ÅÝ‚Äîand here Mr.¬ÝRidvers used his cigar as a pointer and contrived to spill some ash over the chair‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äúat whose expense you‚Äôre doing so damn well? At mine. And I‚Äôm here to have a little talk about it.‚Äù
“I don’t want to have a talk about it,” she cried.
“P’raps not. But I do.” He made movements that suggested he was about to sit down.
This was too much for Miss Trant. ‚ÄúWill you please go away at once?‚Äù she suddenly blazed at him, much to his astonishment. ‚ÄúHow dare you come in here behaving like this! I don‚Äôt want to talk to you about anything.‚Äù She turned her back on him and opened the window, instantly admitting a cold and disturbing rush of our old acquaintance, the March wind, which at once determined to try and choke Mr.¬ÝRidvers, with his own cigar smoke.
He coughed, spluttered, and cursed. But he was really shocked, for he had his own code of manners and now they had been outraged.
“I hope you don’t call yourself a lady,” he exclaimed, in genuine indignation. “What’s the idea? Going on like that!”
Miss Trant swept round, marched past him to the door and threw it open. “Now will you please go?” she said, white with annoyance. “If you don’t go, I will, and I shall ask the proprietor to turn you out of my room.”
Mr.¬ÝRidvers advanced and looked closely at her for a moment. Then he gave his hat a tap to bring it forward, made a clicking noise, exclaimed ‚ÄúWell, my God!‚Äù and went click-clicking down the corridor. When he reached the bar again, he was in a very bad temper. Tom Ellis himself, the landlord, was there, talking to two strangers, a long thin oldish fellow in a ridiculous overcoat and a short man with a peering monkey face.
‚ÄúLet‚Äôs have another, Tom,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝRidvers gruffly. ‚ÄúI need it.‚Äù Then, after swallowing half his whisky, he burst out with: ‚ÄúThat‚Äôs a bitch of a woman you‚Äôve got upstairs, Tom.‚Äù
“Who’s this you’re talking about, Charlie?”
‚ÄúTrant or whatever her name is,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝRidvers heartily. ‚ÄúRunning a pierrot show here, till the sands are ready again, I suppose. Hello, what‚Äôs the matter with you?‚Äù Tom was nodding and winking at him.
“These two gentlemen here,” said Tom, whose business it was to keep in with everybody, “are members of that troupe. Very good show, they tell me.”
‚ÄúAnd let me tell you, sir,‚Äù said the taller stranger, who is no stranger to us, being no other than Mr.¬ÝMorton Mitcham, ‚Äúthat‚Äôs no way to talk about a lady in public.‚Äù And his eyebrows completed the rebuke.
‚ÄúThat is so,‚Äù said his companion, Mr.¬ÝJimmy Nunn, sternly, and shutting one eye as he looked at Mr.¬ÝRidvers. ‚ÄúJust keep your bitches to yourself.‚Äù
Mr.¬ÝRidvers gave a short laugh and cast a contemptuous eye over the rickety pair. ‚ÄúSo this is what they‚Äôre all paying their money to see, is it, Tom? Tut‚Äët‚Äët‚Äët. Broken-down old pros. Buskers. I wish I‚Äôd known what they looked like when I saw that woman upstairs. She‚Äôs not all there, Tom.‚Äù He tapped his forehead. ‚ÄúYou want to keep an eye on her. Pierrots! Tut‚Äët‚Äët‚Äët.‚Äù
‚ÄúWho is this‚ÅÝ‚Äîer‚ÅÝ‚Äîgentleman?‚Äù And the irony Mr.¬ÝMitcham, raising his eyebrows to a monstrous height, threw into that last word was stunning.
‚ÄúNow then, gentlemen,‚Äù said Tom. ‚ÄúLet‚Äôs be friendly. This is Mr.¬ÝRidvers who runs the cinemas round here.‚Äù
‚ÄúAh!‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝMitcham significantly, looking at Mr.¬ÝNunn.
‚ÄúAh!‚Äù replied Mr.¬ÝNunn.
‚ÄúWhat are you ah-ing about?‚Äù demanded Mr.¬ÝRidvers truculently.
‚ÄúDo you remember that ninepence we threw away the other afternoon in that dirty little place, Nunn?‚Äù Mr.¬ÝMitcham inquired.
“And we wondered how people could pay money to go in,” replied Jimmy. “Is that the place? And you thought it was raining in all the pictures, they were so old.”
“And you were asking me how the management had the face to have that cracked old piano and a girl to play it who’d never had any lessons. That’s the place, isn’t it, Nunn? Yes, I thought so.” He sighed deeply.
‚ÄúYou‚Äôre very funny, aren‚Äôt you?‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝRidvers, looking from one to the other very fiercely. ‚ÄúBut don‚Äôt think I‚Äôm going to take it from you because I‚Äôm not.‚Äù He did not say from whom he would take it, but there was a suggestion that he had taken it from somebody quite recently. ‚ÄúCouple of buskers! Going round with the hat! Dirty pierrots! Let me tell you this, the pair of you, and you can tell that‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
“Easy, Charlie, easy,” said the landlord, who looked anything but easy himself.
‚ÄúYou want a good mouth-wash,‚Äù cried Jimmy angrily to Mr.¬ÝRidvers. ‚ÄúIt‚Äôs asking for a good clean-out, that big mouth of yours.‚Äù
‚ÄúI‚Äôve been in places where you‚Äôd have had a bullet through you‚ÅÝ‚Äîlike that‚ÅÝ‚Äîzip!‚ÅÝ‚Äîfor saying less than you‚Äôve said about a lady.‚Äù And Mr.¬ÝMitcham, drawing the Silver King round him with a noble gesture of scorn, attempted to wither the furious cinema proprietor with one magnificent glance.
‚ÄúGo and have a look at yourselves,‚Äù roared Mr.¬ÝRidvers, at the same time attempting to have a closer look at them himself, a movement that made them back a little, for Mr.¬ÝRidvers, with his heavy shoulders and great thrusting jowl, was at that moment a very formidable figure. ‚ÄúI‚Äôll say what I like, and you won‚Äôt stop me and you know you won‚Äôt. Do you see? I‚Äôll say what I like.‚Äù
‚ÄúThat‚Äôs the way, Mister,‚Äù said a cheerful voice from behind them. ‚ÄúThat‚Äôs the way to talk. Let a man say what he likes, that‚Äôs my motto‚ÅÝ‚Äîs‚Äôlong as he doesn‚Äôt hurt anybody. Morning, boys. Any news? Hello, what‚Äôs up?‚Äù
“I’ll tell you what’s up, Joe,” said Jimmy in tones that did not conceal his relief. And he plucked Joe by the elbow and in two whispered sentences told him what had happened.
The massive Joe then stepped forward and examined Mr.¬ÝRidvers curiously, as if there stood before him some new kind of creature.
‚ÄúWell,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝRidvers, standing his ground but not looking as if he was certain of it, ‚Äúwhat‚Äôs wrong with you?‚Äù
‚ÄúI‚Äôll tell you what‚Äôs wrong with me,‚Äù said Joe softly. ‚ÄúI‚Äôm a pierrot, same as these two. A dirty little pierrot. A broken-down pro. Just the same. Miss Trant, the lady upstairs, pays me my money. Just the same. Now I‚Äôll tell you what‚Äôs the matter with you. You‚Äôve two names. One‚Äôs Mud and the other‚Äôs Walker.‚Äù He jerked an enormous thumb towards the door. ‚ÄúOff! Outside! You‚Äôve just time. Oh!‚Äù‚ÅÝ‚Äîand here Joe wagged his head wistfully and a certain rapturous note crept into his voice‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚ÄúI could give you such a slugging. You‚Äôre just the right shape and size, you are.‚Äù
Mr.¬ÝRidvers had reached this conclusion even before Joe announced it. He departed. He ought to have stopped when he reached the door, turned round, scowled at them all, and produced the sinister laugh, the old hollow ‚ÄúHa! Ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!‚Äù; and indeed it is a pity he cannot be brought in every other page or so now to give us a warning ‚ÄúHa! Ha!‚Äù; but the fact remains that he went without a backward glance and in complete silence. He was, however, at boiling point, and a theatrical scowl, a little fist-shaking, and thirty seconds‚Äô sinister mirth, would have done him good. In Victoria Street the wind welcomed him boisterously as an old playmate, but his only response was to demand that it should first be damned and afterwards blasted. And when Ethel asked him if any good had come of his little talk, his reply was of such a nature that her typewriter was heard no more that day in the office of the Triangle New Era Cinema Company.