The Skull Beneath the Skin Read Free Page B

all in my view. These twenty-three are all we now have. I’venumbered them in pencil on the back in the order of receipt as far as my wife can remember and with information about when and how each was delivered.”
    “Thank you. That should be helpful. Your wife has played a great deal of Shakespeare?”
    “She was a member of the Malvern Repertory Company for three years after she left drama school and played a fair amount then. Less in recent years.”
    “And the first of these—which she threw away—came when she was playing Lady Macbeth. What happened?”
    “The first one was upsetting, but she told no one about it. Thought it was an isolated bit of malice. She says she can’t remember what it said, only that it had the drawing of a coffin. Then a second came and a third and fourth. During the third week of the season my wife kept breaking down and had to be continually prompted. On the Saturday she ran off the stage during the Second Act and her understudy had to take over. It’s all a matter of confidence. If you think you’re going to dry up—drying is the theatrical jargon I believe—then you dry. She was able to return to the part after a week but it was a struggle to get through the six weeks. After that she was due to appear at Brighton in a revival of one of those thirties murder mysteries, the sort where the
ingénue
is called Bunty, the hero is Clive and all the men wear long tennis flannels and keep dashing in and out of French windows. Curious affair. Not exactly her kind of part, she’s a classical actress, but there aren’t a lot of opportunities for middle-aged women. Too many good actresses chasing too few parts, so they tell me. Same thing happened. The first quotation appeared on the morning the play opened and they came at regular intervals thereafter. The play came off after four weeks and my wife’s performance may have had something to do with it. She thought so. I’m not so sure. Itwas a stupid plot, couldn’t make sense of it myself. Clarissa didn’t act again until she accepted a part in Webster’s
The White Devil
, at Nottingham, Victoria something or other.”
    “Vittoria Corombona.”
    “Was that it? I was in New York for ten days and didn’t see it. But the same thing happened. The first note arrived again on the day the play opened. This time my wife went to the police. Not much joy. They took the notes away, thought about them and brought them back. Sympathetic but not very effective. Made it obvious that they didn’t take the death threat seriously. Pointed out that if people are serious about killing, they do it, they don’t just threaten. Must say, that was rather my view. They did discover one thing, though. The note which arrived while I was in New York was typed on my old Remington.”
    Cordelia said: “You still haven’t explained how you think I can help.”
    “Coming to that. This weekend my wife is to play the leading role in an amateur production of
The Duchess of Malfi
. The play is to be given in Victorian dress and will take place on Courcy Island about two miles off the Dorset coast. The owner of the island, Ambrose Gorringe, has restored the small Victorian theatre which was first built by his great-grandfather. I understand that the original Gorringe, who rebuilt the ruined medieval castle, used to entertain the Prince of Wales and his mistress, the actress Lillie Langtry, and the guests used to amuse themselves with amateur theatricals. I suppose the present owner is trying to restore past glories. There was an article in one of the Sunday papers about a year ago describing the island, the restoration of the castle and theatre. You may have seen it.”
    Cordelia couldn’t recall it. She said: “And you want me to go to the island and be with Lady Ralston?”
    “I hoped to be there myself but that won’t be possible. I have a meeting in the West Country which I can’t miss. I propose to motor down to Speymouth with my wife early Friday morning