The Case of the Gilded Fly by Edmund Crispin Read Free Book Online Page B

words,’ he pursued ungrammatically, somewhat emboldened.
    She laughed. ‘Good Lord, no, not at this time of the week.’ She threw the book on to the chair beside her. ‘Do tell me who you are,’ she said. ‘I hear you’ve been in front. It must have been dreary.’
    Damn the woman! thought Nigel: she makes me feel a babe. And I’m sure I look awful (he automatically put up a hand to smooth back his hair). I wish she weren’t so attractive – or do I?
    He said more or less composedly: ‘I’m Nigel Blake.’
    â€˜Oh, yes, of course! Robert has told me about you – and Gervase.’
    Nigel’s face assumed an expression of sedate alarm. ‘I didn’t know you knew Fen,’ he said. ‘Anyway, don’t take any notice of anything he’s told you about me. He just says the first thing that comes into his head.’
    â€˜Oh dear, what a pity! He was rather complimentary.’ She put her head a little on one side. ‘Still, when I know you better I shall be able to tell for myself.’
    Nigel felt ridiculously elated. ‘Will you have lunch with me?’ he said.
    â€˜I’d love to, but I doubt if we shall finish much before half past two, and that’s awfully late, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Dinner, then.’
    â€˜Well, we go up at 7.45, and I have to be in fairly early to change and make up. I should have to rush madly away. Tea?’ she added hopefully.
    They both laughed.
    â€˜Supper,’ said Nigel firmly, ‘after the show. Tea’s such a dull meal. Perhaps I can persuade the hotel to let us have it in my sitting-room.’
    â€˜La, sir, what a suggestion!’
    â€˜Oh, well, it doesn’t matter where. I’ll pick you up after the show. What time?’
    â€˜About half past ten.’
    â€˜Lovely.’
    Robert came in, and, after a brief nod to Nigel, began talking to Helen about her part. So he wandered off on his own, precariously balancing his coffee-cup in his left hand. Donald, Yseut, and Jean Whitelegge were in a little group by one of the windows, and the atmosphere looked far from intimate. With a vague idea of pouring oil on troubled waters, Nigel walked over to join them.
    â€˜Hello, Nigel,’ drawled Yseut as she saw him approaching. ‘Have you been enjoying the masterpiece?’
    â€˜I like it,’ said Nigel.
    â€˜How curious. So does little Jean here.’ Jean began to speak, but Yseut interrupted. ‘It’s all appallingly superficial, of course, and no opportunities for real acting. But no doubt dear Rachel’s name will bring them in, like wasps round a jampot.’
    Mentally, Nigel added himself to the already over-burdened list of those who disliked Yseut Haskell.
    To his own surprise, he found himself remarking dogmatically: ‘Comedy is necessarily superficial. And the technique of comedy acting, even if it is different from the technique of acting in serious plays, isn’t any less difficult.’
    â€˜Why Nigel!’ said Yseut with exaggerated surprise, ‘howclever you are! And we all thought you knew nothing about the theatre!’
    He flushed. ‘I know very little about the theatre. But I’ve seen enough of actors and actresses to resent their assumption that they are the only people who know anything about it.’
    Yseut, feeling that the possibilities of unpleasantness in this topic had been too rapidly exhausted, changed the subject. ‘I see you’ve introduced yourself to my sister. Don’t you think she’s attractive?’
    â€˜I think she’s very attractive.’
    â€˜So does Richard,’ said Yseut. ‘I think they’re quite serious about one another, don’t you?’
    Nigel’s heart sank. He knew Yseut was being malicious, but there must be some foundation for what she said.… He replied, as casually as he could:
    â€˜They’re attached to one another, are