Read Online Light Thickens by Ngaio Marsh - Free Book Online Page A

what words! They pour out of him. Despair itself.
To the last syllable of recorded time
. You know,” Peregrine said, “it always amazes me that the play never becomes a bore. The leading man is a hopeless character in terms of heroic images. It’s the soliloquies that work the magic, Dougal.”
    “I suppose so.”
    “You know so,” said Maggie, cheerfully. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Doesn’t he, Perry?”
    “Of course he does,” Peregrine said heartily.
    They were standing onstage. There were no lights on in the auditorium, but a voice out there said: “Oh, don’t make any mistake about it, Maggie, he knows what he’s doing.” And laughed.
    It was Morten, the Macduff.
    “Simon!” Maggie said. “What are you doing down there? Have you been watching?”
    “I’ve only just come in. Sorry I interrupted, Perry. I wanted to see the office about something.”
    The door at the back of the stalls let in an oblong of daylight and shut it out again.
    “What’s the matter with
him
?” Dougal asked at large.
    “Lord knows,” said Peregrine. “Pay no attention.”
    “It’s nothing,” Maggie said. “He’s being silly.”
    “It’s not exactly silly, seeing that baleful face scowling at one and him whirling his claymore within inches of one’s own face,” Dougal pointed out. “And, if I catch your meaning, Maggie love, all for nothing. I’m as blameless as the Bloody Child. Though not, I may add, from choice.”
    “I’ll have a word with him.”
    “Choose your words, darling. You may inflame him.”
    “Maggie dear,” Peregrine begged her, “calm him down if you can. We’re doing the English scene this week and I
would
like him to be normal.”
    “I’ll do my best. He’s so
silly
,” Maggie crossly reiterated. “And I’m so busy.”
    Her opportunity occurred the next afternoon. She had stayed in the theatre after working at the sleepwalking scene, while Peregrine worked with Simon on the English scene.
    When they had finished and Morten was about to leave, she crossed her fingers and stopped him.
    “Simon, that’s a
wonderful
beginning. Come home with me, will you, and talk about it? We’ll have a drink and a modest dinner. Don’t say no. Please.”
    He was taken aback. He looked hard at her, muttered sulkily, and then said, “Thank you, I’d like that.”
    “Good. Put on your overcoat. It’s cold outside. Have you got your part? Come on, then. Good-night, Perry dear.”
    “Good-night, lovely lady.”
    They went out by the stage door. When he heard it bang, Peregrine crossed himself and said, “God bless her.” He turned off the working lights, locked the doors, and used his torch to find his way out by the front-of-house.
    They took a taxi to Maggie’s flat. She rang the bell and an elderly woman opened the door. “Nanny,” said Maggie, “can you give the two of us dinner? No hurry. Two hours.”
    “Soup. Grilled chops.”
    “Splendid.”
    “Good evening, Mr. Morten.”
    “Good evening, Nanny.”
    They came in, to a bright fire and comfortable chairs. Maggie took his coat and hat and hung them in the hall. She gave him a pretty robust drink and sat him down. “I’m breaking my own rule,” she said, pouring a small one for herself. “During rehearsal period, no alcohol, no parties, and no nice gentlemen’s nonsense. But you’ve seen that for yourself, of course.”
    “Have I?”
    “Of course. Even supposing Dougal was a world-beater sex-wise, which I ain’t supposing, it’d be a disaster to fall for him when we’re playing The Tartans. Some people could do it. Most, I daresay, but not this lady. Luckily, I’m not tempted.”
    “Maggie?”
    “No.”
    “Promise?”
    “Of course.”
    “
He
doesn’t share your views?”
    “I don’t know how he feels about it. Nothing serious,” said Maggie, lightly. She added, “My dear Si, you can see what he’s like. Easy come, easy go.”
    “Have you —” He took a pull at his drink. “Have you discussed