Читать книгу Two-Face - Ernest Dudley - Страница 7

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 was not in too good a humour when he arrived, he hated being beaten by anything. And it looked as if the Bob Raymond mess was going to beat him.

No one was in the sitting-room. But there was the murmur of Julia’s, Leo’s and Mitsi’s voices coming from the studio.

As he went in, Julia was saying: “Leo, it’s simply marvellous! Amazing!”

He opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing, just stood staring at the figure who stood facing him. Stared as if he could not believe what he saw.

The figure was Mitsi.

She stood on the model’s daïs, and about her was draped some clinging material. It revealed every line of her figure, while it cunningly enhanced the soft and alluring curves of her slim, enchantingly graceful body.

Her head was thrown back and turned to one side so that her profile and the curve of her slender neck were clear cut against the light. He caught his breath at the pure beauty of it.

Julia’s and her brother’s backs were turned to him. Leo worked carefully at the huge canvas which stood beside the girl. His sister watched in an attitude of tense absorption the strong, decisive movements of his brush.

Mitsi’s eyes were closed, and none of them heard him enter.

He found his voice, and went towards them. “May I see?”

Julia swept round to greet him, and Mitsi uttered a little cry, turning her head to him as she did so.

Leo muttered: “Of course, you would have to come in and upset her! Don’t take any notice of him, Mitsi, my girl, and turn your head again!”

Larry stood beside Julia.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” she breathed.

He nodded, astonished. Surprised as he was by the living picture of the girl who confronted him, the picture on the canvas completely took his breath away.

Leo had performed a miracle.

He had painted Mitsi as she was, posed on the daïs. But he had done more than that. More than emphasized the beauty and the seductive symmetry of her with skilfully applied colours, shadows and highlights.

He had transformed her face.

Simply by changing the colour of her hair from nondescript mouse colour to pale, shimmering gold, he had given her a new face. Brought out the contour of her cheeks to fascinating perfection by slanting her eyebrows slightly, by careful shading. Her mouth was warm and soft. Her eyes deep, mysterious pools.

Yet, despite his brilliant effect, Leo had remained absolutely faithful in essentials to his model. Had simply stripped off her dowdy, disfiguring clothes. Given her face a golden halo of hair, subtly added a new beauty to her features.

The resemblance remained, definite and unmistakable. It was Mitsi who gazed at Larry from the canvas.

Mitsi Linden re-created.

“It’s—it’s terrific!”

“You like it, eh Larry?” asked Leo. “Mmmhhhmmm!” he breathed slowly through his nostrils. “What about the bone-structure, now?”

“The bone-structure impresses me beyond words!”

“Little girl into glamorous lady!” murmured Julia. She spoke very softly and almost to herself—but Larry caught her remark. Repeated the last two words.

“Glamorous lady!”

And suddenly, inspiration burst upon him. Born of those two words, of the magnificent painting before him. He pushed his hands through his hair with a gesture of suppressed excitement. Stared at the picture, at its original, and back again.

“For Pete’s sake, Julia, you’ve said a mouthful! Why not?… Why not?”

“Why not what?”

Ignoring her question, he said quickly to Leo:

“Forgive me, old man, but I must interrupt!” and turned to Mitsi.

“You sing, don’t you? You do! You must do!”

She stared at him in bewilderment.

“Sing? I—I—”

“You DO! You’ve got to, I say!”

“A little, yes. Mother used to give me lessons. But—”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Julia.

But he didn’t hear her.

“Splendid! Splendid!” Turning to Julia and gripping her shoulder: “Quickly, the piano!” Swinging her round to where a baby grand stood in a corner of the studio.

“Larry—!”

“Yes, yes, I know! I’m crazy, but never mind! An idea’s hit me!”

She gazed at him at a loss for words, and he pushed her towards the grand.

“The piano, my dear!” He plumped her firmly down, lifted the lid, raised her hands to the keyboard. “Play!”

“Play what?”

“Anything! Anything! Just a moment!” To Mitsi: “What do you know?”

“Know—?”

“What can you sing?”

“N-n-now—?”

“This very minute! Come here!”

She looked from him to Leo, working oblivious to the excitement, at his easel.

“Oh, don’t worry about him!” Larry cried impatiently. With a swift movement he crossed to the daïs, lifted her in his arms and carried her to the piano, and sat her on it.

“Now, I’m serious! Sing any song you know—in French, in English, Greek, Armenian, Portuguese—anything!”

His dynamic force communicated itself to the two women. Awakened an answering thrill in them.

Mitsi hesitated, looked at Julia and at him, eyes wide with wonder, a puzzled frown on her brow.

“B-but why must I sing?” she stammered.

“Sing!”

“Larry, you’re being very cruel,” objected Julia. “The child doesn’t want to sing—”

“Shut up!” He watched the girl, an expression of combined appeal and command on his face.

Her lips twitched with laughter that was hysterical. He stopped her with a word.

“Mitsi!” Then very quietly: “This is serious!”

She gulped.

“I know—‘J’Attendrai’. I can’t think of anything else—”

“That’s fine! Julia—play!”

Mitsi moistened her lips, gripped the edge of the piano and took a deep breath. Opened her mouth, wavered on the first notes, then began the famous song. She sang in French, a little haltingly at first, then she gained confidence, relaxed and her voice came more easily.

Leo turned from his canvas to listen. Larry stood perfectly still staring out of the window.

Her voice was unexpectedly deep. Its throatiness had a peculiar warmth about it. With each word its appeal became more and more pronounced.

After a moment Larry stopped looking out of the window to gaze at her. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back. She sang softly, almost whispered the words—her accent giving them a quaintness which added to the undoubted charm of her voice.

There was a little silence when the song was over. Julia looked at her with a half-smile of pleasure. Then Leo broke the tension with:

“Bravo! Bravo, Mitsi! That was charming!”

Larry stepped to her, took her hand as she turned to him with a tremulous smile.

“Lovely, lovely!”

And: “Very, very nice!” from Julia.

Mitsi blushed and laughed shyly. She began to say something, but he raised his hand.

“Not a word from anyone for a minute, while I explain all this! Now then—Bob Raymond is in a bad jam. Wants a star for his night-club almost immediately. Can’t find one. I’m trying to help him, but so far—N.G.!”

He glanced at Mitsi with a smile.

“So far,” he added.

“But I don’t see what this—” began Julia.

“Quiet, my dear, and you shall! I can’t get Mirielle. In fact, there’s no one in Paris, or anywhere, who’d draw the crowds into Tony’s club the way he wants ’em! No one who’s gettable at such short notice. No one…except Mitsi!”

“Larry! You are crazy!” cried Julia.

Mitsi stared at him incredulously. Leo snorted at the impossibility of the idea.

“I’ve been crazy before!” said Larry.

His voice was modulated, but his eyes gleamed. Julia glanced at him, and sighed. She knew him. Knew he was determined to see this fantastic idea through.

“But I’ve got away with it!” he continued. “I’ll do the same this time, or blow up!”

He shook his finger at Julia. The words tumbled out forcefully, concisely. Why, he demanded, shouldn’t Mitsi—transformed in the glorious creature depicted on Leo’s canvas—why shouldn’t she star at the night-club? She can sing as well as any other cabaret favourite—better than most! With her foreign accent, her appealingly husky voice, cloaked in colourful mystery, she’d be a sensation!

He’d see her launched on the public on such a mighty wave of newspaper publicity that’d put her over with a wallop.

He stopped talking and laughed out loud.

Julia was looking at him with mixed admiration and incredulity. She said:

“Of course, this just suits your sense of humour!”

He waved the remark away.

“I tell you it’s great! There’s a job—and not such a bad one at that!—waiting for the girl to step right into! Am I right?”

Julia smiled, excited, and her shining eyes told him that he’d convinced her. He turned to her brother.

“I think it’s the maddest idea I’ve ever heard of… But it’s not half bad!”

“That’s fine!” He turned to Mitsi. “Well—and what d’you think?… Not that it matters, really, because all you’ve got to do is—trust me.”

She stood, her dark eyes full of wonder. But the amazing confidence of the man, his extraordinary power to convince her, to make her believe that whatever he said was right, seemed to sweep over her in electric waves.

“I—I cannot think… It is all so quick. You talk so quick. I feel helpless, as if I am wax to be moulded by you, and by—Fate…”

His expression softened. For a fleeting second they seemed to be quite alone.

“You trust me?” he said with infinite gentleness.

She nodded.

Julia banged down the piano-lid.

“Well—and what next, you resourceful fellow?” she asked.

“You’ve got to fix her up! Have her hair altered, have clothes made! She’s got to look like Leo’s picture overnight! We’re in a hurry! You know how to do all those things, Julia! I leave her in your hands. Spend what you like, money doesn’t matter. But make her look a million dollars! I’m going to phone Raymond.”

“I think this is going to be fun!” exclaimed Julia, with a quick smile at Mitsi.

Mitsi gave a little laugh.

She watched Larry cross to the door, pausing to slap Leo on the shoulder. Her eyes never left him as he moved. At the door she found his look. Across the room they gazed at each other. She braced her shoulders, while her blood tingled in her veins. Her heartbeats quickened with the thrill of the adventure into which he was leading her.

“I’ll tell Bob I’ve found the most sensational woman on the earth!” he said. “A star who’ll pack his club to suffocation!”

With a quick grin he was gone. Julia was saying to her:

“We’ll make you look all of that, Mitsi my pet. Now then, Leo—you must help, too…”

She took her hand, and they crossed to look at her brother’s picture again, Julia rattling off a list of names of hairdressers, beauty specialists, and dress-experts.