Killer Dolphin by Ngaio Marsh Read Free Book Online

have here a digest, as it were, of a—shall I say a suggestion you made to Mr. Conducis as he recollects it. Here it is.”
    Mr. Greenslade put on his spectacles and read from the paper before him.
    “Mr. Jay proposed that The Dolphin Theatre should be restored to its former condition and that a company should be established there performing Shakespeare and other plays of a high cultural quality. Mr. Jay suggested that The Dolphin is a building of some cultural worth and that, historically speaking, it is of considerable interest.”
    Mr. Greenslade looked up at Peregrine. “That was, in fact, your suggestion?”
    “Yes. Yes. It was. Except that I hate the word culture.”
    “Mr. Jay, I don’t know if you are at all informed about Mr. Conducis’s interests.”
    “I—no—I only know he’s—he’s—”
    “Extremely wealthy and something of a recluse?” Mr. Greenslade suggested with a slight, practiced smile.
    “Yes.”
    “Yes.” Mr. Greenslade removed his spectacles and placed them delicately in the centre of his writing pad.
    Peregrine thought he must be going to make some profound revelation about his principal. Instead he merely said “Quite” again and after a dignified silence asked Peregrine if he would be good enough to tell him something about himself. His schooling, for example, and later career. He was extremely calm in making this request.
    Peregrine said he had been born and educated in New Zealand, had come to England on a drama bursary and had remained there.
    “I am aware, of course, of your success in the theatrical field,” said Mr. Greenslade and Peregrine supposed that he had been making some kind of confidential inquiries.
    “Mr. Jay,” said Mr. Greenslade, “I am instructed to make you an offer. It is, you may think, a little precipitant: Mr. Conducis is a man of quick decisions. It is this. Mr. Conducis is prepared to consider the rehabilitation of the theatre, subject, of course, to favourable opinions from an architect and from building authorities and to the granting of necessary permits. He will finance this undertaking. On one condition.” Mr. Greenslade paused.
    “On one condition?” Peregrine repeated in a voice that cracked like an adolescent’s.
    “Exactly. It is this. That you yourself will undertake the working management of The Dolphin. Mr. Conducis offers you, upon terms to be arrived at, the post of organizing the running of the theatre, planning its artistic policy, engaging the company and directing the productions. You would be given a free hand to do this within certain limits ot expenditure which would be set down in this contract I shall be glad to hear what your reactions are to this, at its present stage, necessarily tentative proposal.”
    Peregrine suppressed a frightening inclination towards giving himself over to manic laughter. He looked for a moment into Mr. Greenslade’s shrewd and well-insulated face and he said: “It would be ridiculous of me to pretend that I am anything but astonished and delighted.”
    “Are you?” Mr. Greenslade rejoined. “Good. In that case I shall proceed with the preliminary investigations. I, by the way, am the solicitor for a number of Mr. Conducis’s interests. If and when it comes to drawing up contracts I presume I should negotiate with your agents?”
    “Yes. They are—”
    “Thank you,” said Mr. Greenslade. “Messrs. Slade and Oppinger, I believe?”
    “Yes,” said Peregrine, wondering if at any stage of his tipsy rhapsody he had mentioned them to Mr. Conducis and rather concluding that he hadn’t.
    “There is one other matter.” Mr. Greenslade opened a drawer in his desk and with an uncanny re-enacting of his principal’s gestures on the previous morning, withdrew from it the small Victorian writing-desk. “You are already familiar with the contents, I understand, and expressed some anxiety about their authenticity.”
    “I said I wished they could be shown to an expert.”
    “Quite. Mr.