Читать книгу Vintage Murder - Ngaio Marsh, Stella Duffy - Страница 15

Mr Liversidge poked his head in at the open office door. He did not come on until the second act, and had grown tired of hanging round the wings while Gascoigne thrashed out a scene between Valerie Gaynes, Ackroyd, and Hambledon. Mr Meyer was alone in the office.

‘Good morning, sir,’ said Liversidge.

‘’Morning, Mr Liversidge,’ said Meyer, swinging round in his chair and staring owlishly at his first juvenile. ‘Want to see me?’

‘I’ve just heard of your experience on the train last night,’ began Liversidge, ‘and looked in to ask how you were. It’s an outrageous business. I mean to say—!’

‘Quite,’ said Meyer shortly. ‘Thanks very much.’

Liversidge airily advanced a little farther into the room.

‘And poor Val, losing all her money. Quite a chapter of calamities.’

‘It was,’ said Mr Meyer.

‘Quite a decent pub, the Middleton, isn’t it, sir?’

‘Quite,’ said Mr Meyer again.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

‘You seem to be in funds,’ remarked Mr Meyer suddenly.

Liversidge laughed melodiously. ‘I’ve been saving a bit lately. We had a long run in Town with the show, didn’t we? A windfall this morning, too.’ He gave Meyer a quick sidelong glance. ‘Courtney paid up his poker debts. I didn’t expect to see that again, I must say. Last night he was all down-stage and tragic.’

‘Shut that door,’ said Mr Meyer. ‘I want to talk to you.’