II
“You’ve not had a reply?” cried Susie.
“I have,” Inigo replied, coming into the room. It was some time after eleven on the Wednesday morning. Susie had been dusting her sitting-room, which was also her landlady’s parlour, in a fashion that fluctuated between the dreary and the dreamy. Ever since Saturday night, she had felt lost.
“It’s not from Monte Mortimer himself,” Inigo went on, speaking rather carefully, as if he thought he was a solicitor or someone of that kind. “It’s from his secretary.”
“That’s all the same. Hurry up, idiot, and tell me what he says. You’re so slow, Inigo.” Then she plomped down into a chair. “It’s a washout, isn’t it? I can see it is. Go on, though.”
‚ÄúIt‚Äôs a letter and from the secretary,‚Äù said Inigo, sitting down and taking out the sheet of paper. ‚ÄúThis is what it says: ‚ÄòDear Sir, I have communicated your yesterday‚Äôs wire to Mr.¬ÝMortimer, who is away from the office at present, and he requests me, in reply, to tell you to go to the devil. He also requests me to add that any further communication from you or any other member of your troupe will be regarded as coming from there and will not receive any reply whatever. Yours truly, J. Hamilton Levy, Secretary.‚Äô And that,‚Äù Inigo added, with a poor attempt at nonchalance, ‚Äúis that.‚Äù
‚ÄúLet me have a look at it,‚Äù Susie commanded, and then read it through herself. Having done that, she crumpled it fiercely and hurled it into the fire. ‚ÄúAnd to think I‚Äôve been sorry for that‚ÅÝ‚Äîthat object‚ÅÝ‚Äîfor the last three days! Mean beast! I hope Joe‚Äôs punch knocked him silly. I don‚Äôt care, I do.‚Äù
“Well, it did, my dear,” said Inigo, “hence this colossal snub, absolutely. Looks to me as if he’s still off duty.”
“I wouldn’t have minded so much if he hadn’t been so smart-alecky about it. There’s no need for him to try to be funny. His next revue’ll need all the gags he can ever think of. Anyhow, he must be a rotten manager or he’d never let a thing like that stop him from getting in some good new talent. If I was running a show, I wouldn’t care if I got fifty biffs, I’d engage people who could do something.”
“I’m awfully sorry, Susie,” he began.
‚ÄúDon‚Äôt be silly. It‚Äôs not your fault. It isn‚Äôt anybody‚Äôs fault, really, and it certainly isn‚Äôt yours. It‚Äôs a washout, that‚Äôs all, and the best thing I can do is to remember it‚Äôs twice daily on the pier, or if fine at the pierhead and if wet in the shelter, that‚Äôs my programme‚ÅÝ‚Äîif I‚Äôm lucky, because it‚Äôs boiling down to that now, when you come to think of it. Hell! Give me a cigarette. No, don‚Äôt, thanks. I don‚Äôt want one.‚Äù
‚ÄúYou ought to smoke a pipe,‚Äù he said, lighting his. ‚ÄúBy the way, I saw Jimmy this morning‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
“Is he better?”
“Practically. Head still hums a bit, and says he’s dizzy when he tries to walk about. He won’t be fit for work for a week or two. But what I wanted to say was, Mamie Potter’s gone.”
“Thank God! She wasn’t much good anyhow, and she’s brought us nothing but rotten luck. Thinks we’re not good enough for her now, I suppose?”
“Something like that. Anyhow, she’s gone. And nobody seems to know anything about Master Jerningham.”
‚ÄúOh, he‚Äôs pushed off too, I expect,‚Äù said Susie, who was clearly anxious to relieve her feelings. ‚ÄúHe would! He‚Äôll look after himself all right‚ÅÝ‚ÄîAi give you mai ward.‚Äù
“I dunno. He may turn up again, babbling about his trousers as he did last time. Where was that? Tewborough, wasn’t it? Gosh! the holes we’ve been in, Susie!”
‚ÄúIt‚Äôs nothing to the hole we‚Äôre in now, laddie,‚Äù she said darkly. ‚ÄúWe‚Äôre in a mess, busted absolutely‚ÅÝ‚Äîas our sweet young pianist says. There‚Äôs poor Miss Trant in a nursing home, and though she‚Äôs sweet about it, she must be fed up to the teeth with the lot of us. They say she‚Äôll have to pay for all the damage too. Well, she‚Äôs had enough of it, you can bet. No more Good Companions for her. That means we shan‚Äôt have a cent to go on with. If she offered us any money, I wouldn‚Äôt take it. Not after all she‚Äôs done and had to pay out.‚Äù
“Well, I’ve got a spot, you know,” he remarked.
‚ÄúKeep your spot, my child. I‚Äôm coming to your part in it soon. Then Potter‚Äôs gone. That doesn‚Äôt matter, but still it means we‚Äôll have to get another soubrette. Jerry‚Äôs gone too, and that‚Äôs really awkward. You wouldn‚Äôt get another light comedian as good‚ÅÝ‚Äînot for C.P. work‚ÅÝ‚Äîif you advertised till all was blue. Then Jimmy‚Äôs not fit for work yet. We‚Äôd have to put in old Jess as a Yorkshire comedian. Wouldn‚Äôt he be marvellous! It‚Äôs all right laughing, but‚ÅÝ‚Äîoh, it‚Äôs murder. I saw myself up in town by this time, signing contracts like mad, looking for a flat. What a hope! And a week ago I was sniffing at Bournemouth. Bournemouth! It wouldn‚Äôt look at us now. Two-night stands are all we‚Äôre fit for, with a return visit to Rawsley the event of the season. Susie Dean. A riot of Sandybay! Front chairs one-and-ten-pence! Patronize the pierrots, girls and boys! Oh, hell‚ÅÝ‚Äîoh!‚ÅÝ‚Äîoh‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
“Susie!” He jumped out of his chair.
She shook her head fiercely, her thick dark bobbed hair swinging. Then she touched his hand for a moment and pushed him back. “No, sit down, idiot. We’re both idiots. I work myself up in the most ghastly way these days. It must be because I’m so excited inside all the time, have been for days.”
“I know,” said Inigo sympathetically. He was sitting down again now, but his hands were stretched out in front of him, as if it was impossible to restrain them from reaching out to her.
“You don’t know. You don’t know anything about it.” She was smiling mistily. “O lord! where’s my handkerchief? Wait a minute. Now then, I’ve not finished yet. There’s you.”
“Me! What about me? I’m all right.”
‚ÄúYou‚Äôre not. To begin with, you‚Äôre absurd, and always will be. No, don‚Äôt start saying you‚Äôre not, because that‚Äôs not what I‚Äôm going to talk about. You went up to Felder and Hunterman‚Äôs on Saturday, they heard your stuff, and what‚Äôs his name‚ÅÝ‚Äîyou know‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
“Pitsner?”
“That’s right. Well, Pitsner wanted your songs, didn’t he, just as that ape Monte Mortimer did?”
“He did. I won’t say he was keen, because I don’t believe that man was ever keen about anything. He’s got a sort of ‘But she is in her grave, and oh the difference to me!’ look about him, Master Pitsner. Still, he wanted them all right.”
“Well, there you are. Pitsner didn’t get a punch from Joe, you know.”
‚ÄúTrue,‚Äù Inigo murmured. He knew what was coming and was hoping to dodge it. ‚ÄúPitsner didn‚Äôt. But I‚Äôve no doubt at all that something could be arranged, if you feel he ought to have one too. He could come down here for it, or perhaps one of us might go up there‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
‚ÄúDon‚Äôt be funny,‚Äù she told him wearily. ‚ÄúYou‚Äôre not bad until you start being funny. Then you make me feel sick. Let‚Äôs talk sense. You know he‚Äôll take those songs like a shot. And you know‚ÅÝ‚Äîor you ought to know, by this time‚ÅÝ‚Äîyou can make bags of money up there turning out these things. Well, that‚Äôs where you‚Äôre going.‚Äù
‚ÄúYou mean‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI ought to clear out too?‚Äù
“Of course! The sooner the better!”
“But I don’t want to.”
‚ÄúI dare say,‚Äù she cried. ‚ÄúBecause I‚Äôm not going, eh? I know your little game. You want to stay with us, going the old round, thumping out the old stuff, and looking at me over the top of the piano with the love-light in your eyes. For her sake alone he‚ÅÝ‚Äîthingumy-bobbed‚ÅÝ‚Äîrenounced wealth and fame. Love was his guiding star. Came the dawn. Yeogh!‚Äù Here she gave a very unladylike imitation of acute sickness. ‚ÄúWhat do you think you are‚ÅÝ‚Äîa little hero from Hollywood? Out you go, laddie. Honestly, you don‚Äôt want to go trailing round another year‚ÅÝ‚ÄîRawsley, Dotworth, Sandybay, Winstead, Haxby, Middleford, and Tewborough‚ÅÝ‚Äîmy God!‚Äù
‚ÄúOh, I don‚Äôt know,‚Äù said Inigo, examining the bowl of his pipe with unnecessary interest. ‚ÄúSeeing England and all that. On t‚Äôroad‚ÅÝ‚Äîas our friend, Master Oakroyd, says. It‚Äôs the sort of experience that might be very useful to a man of letters‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
“Man of letters!” Susie made a number of uncomplimentary noises.
Inigo flushed and kicked out a foot at nothing in particular. “Shut up, Susie. I will write something decent some day, you see if I don’t.”
Her dark eyes rested on his sulky boy‚Äôs face for a moment, and lost their hard brilliance. ‚ÄúSorry! I don‚Äôt know anything about it. I only know about silly songs, and you‚Äôre marvellously clever at them. Anyhow, the point is‚ÅÝ‚Äîno self-sacrifice stuff. You‚Äôve got to clear out of this mess.‚Äù
“But you see, there’s no self-sacrifice stuff about it,” he explained quietly and slowly, while he examined, with what was apparently strong distaste, a large photogravure bearing the title “On the Road to Gretna Green.” “I want to be where you are, as I’ve told you before.”
To this Susie made no reply. She looked into the fire, and they were both silent for a minute or two. “But after all,” she said, finally, “if you want to do something for me, you ought to clear out and get up to London. Look what you did last Saturday.”
“That’s true,” he cried, brightening. “That’s the place to work it from.” He paused, thinking it over. “I don’t know, though. I’d have a pop at it, of course, but last Saturday’s effort was gigantic cheek, absolutely, and I don’t know if I could drag out any more Monte Mortimers. Still, you could slip up, couldn’t you?”
She nodded, then frowned at the fire. ‚ÄúIt‚Äôs a mess. Everything‚Äôs got into a mess. I expect you must think sometimes I‚Äôm an awful little hard nut, always on the make. No, listen,‚Äù as he began to protest. ‚ÄúBut something nags at me inside telling me to get on quick. It‚Äôs a sort of feeling I have about my father and mother. I‚Äôve told you about it before, haven‚Äôt I? As if it was because they had such a rotten time. And I feel I can‚Äôt wait long. It‚Äôs all right people saying ‚ÄòOh, you‚Äôre young. Plenty of time!‚Äô‚ÅÝ‚Äîthat sounds all right‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut there isn‚Äôt. If nothing happens, I‚Äôll get stale soon. I know I will. I oughtn‚Äôt to, but there you are. I expect I haven‚Äôt the guts to keep on and keep it up.‚Äù
“That’s rot. I see what you mean, absolutely, but it’s rot about not having the guts. You’ve guts enough for ten.”
She laughed, came over to him, and twisted a finger in his lock of hair. “Awful, isn’t it? We sound like a butcher’s shop. Let’s talk about something else.”
‚ÄúBy the way,‚Äù he began. ‚ÄúOw! That hurts. Look here, creature, if you want to know what to do with your hands‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
“I don’t, thank you,” letting him go.
“Pity,” he grumbled. “However, I was going to say, I’ve just remembered that Saturday night was your benefit.”
“You don’t mean to say you’d forgotten that?”
“No, not exactly. What I meant was, I’d forgotten you got the money. How much was it, and what have you done with it, and so on and so forth?”
“I haven’t done anything with it, idiot. Matter of fact, I don’t know exactly how much it all comes to yet, but anyhow I’m not taking it. Of course not, don’t be silly! How can I? Here’s Miss Trant going to be run in for hundreds and hundreds. I can’t possibly take anything.”
“No, I suppose not,” he replied, poking his face meditatively with the stem of his pipe. “Gosh! I’d forgotten about that.”
‚ÄúYou‚Äôre lucky! That‚Äôs all part of the hellish mess. I‚Äôm going to see Miss Trant this afternoon. I think I‚Äôll ask Mrs.¬ÝJoe to come too. At times like this, us girls must stick together, my child.‚Äù
They looked at one another, laughed, then carefully explained that they were really very miserable. And indeed they were about as depressed as it was possible for two such lively, youthful, optimistic souls to be. It was all the worse because there was nothing for them to do.
“Well,” said Inigo at length, after wandering vaguely about the room, “I suppose I must be thinking about a spot of food. I’m having lunch out somewhere. Coming with me?”
“I don’t feel like facing Ye Jollie Dutche,” she told him. “I think I’ll tea-and-egg it here. Hello, what’s that?”
“That, my dear,” he replied, at the window, “is a car. And it’s stopping here.”
“Let me have a look. I knew it was. I felt it was. I’ve seen that car before somewhere. Something’s going to happen, Inigo. It is, I know it is.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Come away from the window or you might spoil it. No, we must pretend now we don’t care, else it might stop happening at the last minute. I’ve always felt that, haven’t you? There you are, a knock.”
“Probably the doctor or somebody like that.”
“It can’t be. I’m sure it isn’t.”
And it wasn‚Äôt. The landlady‚Äôs head appeared and announced that a shover had called with a message for Miss Dean and for Mr.¬ÝJollifant too if he was here, which he was as her own eyes could see for themselves, and she would send it in to give it to them.
Susie recognized the chauffeur at once, and we recognize him too, having met him once on the pier at Sandybay and then again, one Sunday afternoon, outside Hicklefield. Yes, it is Lawley, Lady Partlit’s chauffeur.
“And you’re to come round to the Victoria Midland Hotel for lunch, Miss,” he explained. “And you, sir, too. I was going round to your rooms, but this has saved me the trouble. And I had to tell you that it was specially important, and they would be expecting you as soon as you could get round.”
“They?” cried Susie. “Who are the others? Yes, we’ll come, won’t we, Inigo? But what’s it all about?”
“Well,” said Lawley, grinning, “it’s a bit of a surprise, Miss. You’ll soon see.”
Susie looked at him a moment with widening eyes, then flashed a glance that might have meant a thousand things at Inigo, and bolted, screaming as she went: “Back in a minute!”
“Not so blowy as it has been,” remarked Lawley coolly to Inigo, “but still on the cold side, if you ask me.”