Two-Face. Ernest Dudley
acquaintance. But he was a brilliantly clever artist, and a good-hearted chap all right.
“I hope she sleeps well,” he said to Julia.
“Like a top, she will!”
“You’ve been a darling to her. I’m awfully grateful to you and Leo for rising to the occasion so superbly. Bless you both!”
“Silly!” she laughed.
There was a hidden tenderness, though, in her laughter, but it escaped him. And she felt the thin stab of pain in her heart, as she always did when she realized that to him she was no more than a good friend, a grand person to drop in and see now and then.
“Poor kid! She’s had a hell of a time…”
“She’s been lucky to have had you to play ministering angel. And that’s a thing I’ve never known you do before, Larry. Feel friendly towards a young woman, like you’ve done about her. You used to say women made you sick!”
He made a little grimace at her.
“Well, you’re the only woman I know whose company I can bear for five minutes. And that still holds good—because our visitor from Switzerland isn’t a woman. She’s just a kid, and a darned pathetic one at that. What else could I have done? Tough, hard-boiled newspaperman as you would have me seem, I’m not so flint-hearted I could leave a baby alone and helpless like she was.”
“You’re nice, Larry.”
Something like a sigh of relief escaped her. For one heart-chilling moment the suspicion had entered her mind that the girl, unattractive and drably forlorn as she was, had in some way made an appeal to him. His words had reassured her, and she was thankful.
At that moment the telephone rang. She crossed to the jangling instrument in the corner of the room.
“Hullo?… Yes… All right, I’ll hold on.” She turned to Larry. “Call from London. For you?”
“That’ll be the paper. I left word they could probably get me here if I wasn’t back tonight.”
He got up and stood by her. She spoke again into the mouthpiece.
“Hullo? Yes. Yes, this is Julia Green speaking. I can hear you perfectly well. Who is it?… Yes, he is here—will you hold on?…”
She handed the phone to him. “Bob Raymond himself would like a word with you,” she smiled.
“Bob! Good heavens, what the deuce does he want?”
“He’ll probably tell you, my pet, if you’ll take hold of this little toy.”
“Hullo, Bob. What’s on your mind? Sure I’ll help you, if I can. I’m listening. Bad luck, darned bad luck. Yes, I know. All very difficult. Well, yes, I do know her. I’ll see what I can do. And I’ll try and think of someone else if she can’t make it. I’ll phone you to-morrow as soon as I know anything. Yes… G’bye, Bob, don’t worry! It’ll all come right in the wash!”
He replaced the receiver.
“So sorry for all that,” he said, coming back to his chair.
“All sounds most odd!” Julia murmured.
Leo looked up from his sketching.
“There’s been a lot of talking going on,” he growled. “What’s it all about?”
“Bob Raymond’s in the soup. You know he’s opening his own night-club next week—going to be the brightest spot in London, and all that…”
“Horrible!” groaned Leo.
“Well, he’d got Rosy Gordon—”
“The new American singer?” put in Julia.
Larry nodded.
“Revolting!” moaned her brother, and returned to his work.
“She was to have appeared at Bob’s club, but she’s got pneumonia, or mumps, or run off with some millionaire, or something! Anyway, she won’t be there!”
“Bad luck.”
“Yes, it’ll ruin his opening night. She was the big attraction.”
“What’ll he do?”
“That’s what he’s called me about. Wants me to talk to Mirielle, the Bright Girl of Paris. Try and get her to appear at his club.”
“But she’d want the earth!”
“Rosy Gordon was to get that! Money’s no object with Bob. Got plenty of cash behind him. He wants the biggest drawing-card possible, and he’ll pay for it! But I’m pretty sure Mirielle won’t be any use. She’s under contract here, sure as anything. There’s no one else I can think of.”
“What a nuisance the tall, dark and handsome Bob Raymond is!”
“You’ve met him, haven’t you?”
“And heard all about him, too! Champion breaker of women’s hearts!”
“He’s a gay young lad! I don’t mind him, he’s amusing.”
“And so terribly attractive!”
“A poisonous reptile!” muttered Leo, without taking his eye from his pencil.
Julia and Larry laughed. Larry’s grin turned into a yawn.
“Well, I’m hitting the hay! Sorry to be unsociable, and all that! But I’m tired.”
“Yes, of course, dear. You go on along—you can worry about young Raymond’s pretty lady in the morning…”
CHAPTER 4
But Larry’s first thought when he awoke at half-past eight next day was not for any pretty lady, or Bob Raymond’s troubles.
He awoke thinking of Mitsi, and for a moment wondered if she had invaded his dreams. But he couldn’t remember dreaming at all, about anybody, he’d slept so soundly.
“Brat’s getting on my mind, or something,” he said to himself, as he made his way to the bathroom. The idea annoyed him a little, he didn’t like having things on his mind.
He turned on the taps, found his shaving things, and started to think about how he could help Bob Raymond out of his mess. He felt sure Mirielle wouldn’t agree to leave Paris.
On his way back to his bedroom, he heard voices in Leo’s studio. Leo’s and Mitsi’s voices. He opened the studio door and poked his head round it.
“’Morning, early birds!”
“Good morning, Mister Lazybones!” she laughed at him.
Leo said: “There’s no breakfast for you, the child’s bolted the lot! And serve you right, you should get up at a respectable hour!”
“How are you feeling?” he asked her.
“Most well, thank you.”
“Is this hideous man with the beard amusing you?”
“Yes, very much.” And she laughed again.
He left them, glad to know that she was feeling better and happier. She would be all right in a day or two. Then they would think of something she could do. Find her a decent job of work, and all that.
Larry’s fears about Mirielle were realized at midday, when he called upon the revue star. London could not offer her more than Paris, she said. And in any case she was under contract to stay with her show till it closed. She was very charming, but quite definite.
He cudgelled his brains on his way back to the Greens’ flat. It must be someone sensational, someone who would draw all London to Bob’s club, like a great magnet attracting pins. Who was there? He could think of no star like that who would be obtainable at such impossibly short notice.
He