The Beast Must Die by Nicholas Blake Read Free Book Online

relatively honourable: I wanted to study a typical film actress for my new thriller, also I’d got plans about making it the kind of story which could be turned into a film – the Hitchcock type – and Lena Lawson might be the right person to play the heroine. I don’t know whether this carried much conviction with Callaghan, he looked at me a bit sceptically, but it doesn’t much matter whether he believes my motives to be professional or erotic. I’m visiting the studio again tomorrow, and he’s going to introduce me to the girl then. I feel absurdly nervous about it – I’ve never had anything to do with her sort before.

21 July
    WELL, I’VE GOT that over. What an ordeal! I didn’t know what to say to the girl at first. Not that there was any need to. She gave me a perfunctory hand, shot a rather neutral sort of look at my beard, as though reserving judgement, and instantly launched forth into a long rigmarole to Callaghan and me about someone called Platanov. ‘That fiend, Platanov!’ she said. ‘Do you know my dears he rang me up four times last night well I ask you what is a girl to do of course I don’t mind attentions but when it comes to having one’s footsteps dogged and being persecuted on the telephone well as I told Weinberg it’ll drive me crackers. The man’s a fiend incarnate my dears he actually had the nerve to turn up at the station this morning luckily I’d told him the train left at nine ten when it really goes out five minutes earlier so I saw him chasing it down the platform just like the Scissors’ Man definitely a fiendish turn of speed and you know what he looks like my dears a positive nightmare and it’s not as if I could have anything more to say to him is it?’
    ‘No, of course not,’ said Callaghan soothingly.
    ‘I keep on telling Weinberg he must ring up the Embassy and have the man deported the country’s not big enough to hold both of us either he goes or I but of course all these Jews are in league I must say we could do with a bit of Hitler here though I do rather bar rubber truncheons and sterilisation. Well now, as I was saying …’
    She went on and on for some time longer. There was something engaging about the way she assumed that I knew the context of her speech. I’ve no idea – probably never shall –whether the fiend Platanov is a white slaver, a talent scout, and agent of the GPU, or just an infatuated admirer. It’s all of a piece with this incredibly unreal world – there’s simply no knowing where film leaves off and real life begins. However, Lena’s monologue gave me an opportunity to study her in some detail. She certainly had got a not unattractive, vulgar, vivacity; if she’s now ‘quite subdued and biddable’, as Callaghan said, she must have been a proper handful before. I was rather surprised that she should be so like the film Polly in appearance, but obviously the chap at the ford would not have recognised her otherwise. Tip-tilted nose, wide mouth, very thick white-gold hair rising in a sort of wave or tiara above her forehead, blue eyes. Her features, except for the mouth, are quite delicate, which contrasts oddly with her gamine expression. But these inventories are useless – I’ve never seen a physical description of anyone in a book which gave a clear mental pictue. To look at her, you’d never think she had anything on her mind. Maybe she hasn’t. No, I refuse to admit that possibility.
    I stared at her while she was talking, thinking, This is one of the last two people to see Martie alive. I didn’t feel any horror or rancour against her – only a burning curiosity and impatience to know more, to know everything. After a bit she turned to me and said:
    ‘Now you must tell me all about yourself, Mr Vane.’
    ‘Lane,’ said Callaghan.
    ‘You’re an author, aren’t you? I love authors. Do you know Hugh Walpole? I think he’s a lovely author. But of course you look much more like my idea of an author than he