A Change of Heir Read Free Page A

It’s the only thing makes them choose just like that. And, after all, I am an actor, Norval. Can’t you do a bit better–’
    ‘George, here’s this thing on my desk talking at me. My secretary says Sir Laurence–’
    ‘All right, Norval.’ Gadberry had no belief in Sir Laurence. ‘But just tell me what this man Smith said .’
    ‘Said? Well, I figure he didn’t kind of say much. Except that you were the nearest thing to his type he’d turned up. George, I’ll be seeing you sometime.’
    ‘Stop, Dugald! I mean Norval.’ Gadberry was reduced to a frank betrayal of agitation. ‘Would you say this fellow Smith was a–’
    ‘The Chester Court, George. You can find out for yourself, easy enough. Only let me know if it’s something not quite nice. The Bernhardt is a very strictly ethical concern. That’s how I started it in New York, and that’s how I’ve continued it over here.’
    ‘I’m sure it is.’ Fleetingly, Gadberry wondered why, if this were so, Mr Falsetto appeared to be resigned to an expatriate condition. ‘But what’s the chap like ? At least tell me that.’
    ‘Like, George? Well, I’d say he’s like any other guy in dark glasses and a beard. So long, George.’
    ‘But look here–’ A click on the line constrained Gadberry to break off. Whether for the purpose of receiving Sir Laurence or not, Mr Norval Falsetto had put down his telephone.
    Gadberry went thoughtfully upstairs again. With Mr Falsetto, he supposed, anybody became George – or Richard or Robert, as the case might be – on the occasion of his having brought the Bernhardt a fee. He recalled that it had been with some misgiving that he had placed himself on the Bernhardt’s register. He’d had more than an inkling of its being something which, in the higher ranges of his profession, just wasn’t all that frequently done. And Mr John Smith of the beard and the dark glasses didn’t sound attractive; in fact he spoke loudly of an unattractiveness so pronounced that it remained exactly that even when viewed from the standpoint of a highly disagreeable indigence. He probably wanted to command, for a modest fee, some boring and senseless service. He might yearn, for example, while bizarrely attired and to the accompaniment of the music of Wagner, to be bitten or beaten or bashed about by a young man of personable appearance.
    These and other morbid hypotheses were abruptly banished from Gadberry’s mind by the consciousness that he was once more in the presence of Mrs Lapin. As he had guessed would happen, she hadn’t stirred out of the hall. Nor had Bessie; the child had simply retreated to a corner and turned on her drooling act. The compromising suitcase formed a centrepiece to the composition.
    ‘Well,’ Gadberry said briskly, ‘Falsetto sounds as if he may have something attractive. But I don’t want to be in a hurry. There’s talk of taking The Rubbish Dump to Moscow. Of course I’d be needed for that.’
    ‘A good riddance, if you ask me. Clean crazy, plays of that sort are.’ Ma Lapin folded her arms across her bosom; it was clear that she was in one of her nasty moods. ‘Theatres of cruelty, theatres of the absurd! Who ever heard of such things in old Cocky’s time? That Lord Chamberpot ought to come down on them heavy. That’s what I say.’
    Bessie Lapin began to cry – whether nostalgically at the mention of C B Cochran or in terror at the thought of the Lord Chamberpot, it was impossible to say.
    ‘Well, well,’ Gadberry said cheerily, ‘we all have our tastes and fancies, Mrs Lapin.’ He frowned as he recalled the probability that precisely this reflection might be applied in charity, no doubt, to Mr John Smith. But Mr John Smith was neither here nor there. There could be no question of his seeking out so shady a character at the Chester Court or anywhere else. Gadberry advanced resolutely upon his suitcase. ‘And now,’ he said, ‘I’d better be getting along.’ He caught Mrs Lapin’s