And So To Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

building with the awnings?’
    ‘Because,’ said Cartwright, ‘Albion Films isn’t the only outfit here. There are three others: Radiant Pictures and S.A.G. – American companies – and Wonderfilms, who built the studios in the first place. They hire sound-stages and offices, just as we do. These grounds were originally a private estate, and the Old Building was the manor-house, before Dega of Wonderfilms bought it.’ An expression of dreamy and evil glee went over his face. ‘Radiant Pictures are doing a super-colossal spectacle based on the life of the Duke of Wellington. I’ve been talking to Aaronson; and if his version of the Battle of Waterloo doesn’t turn out to be a joy and delight for ever, it won’t be my fault.’
    ‘Oh? I suppose that’s your idea of being funny?’
    Cartwright laid hold of his hair and pulled.
    ‘All right, all right. Sorry! Change the subject, quick!’
    But Monica was bristling.
    ‘And just a wee bit childish, don’t you think? I suppose you’d do the same to Mr Hackett, if he didn’t pay you your salary. After all, what call have you to look down on Mr Hackett?’
    ‘I don’t.’
    ‘Yes, that’s obvious, isn’t it? But he doesn’t put on any side. When I came out here, I expected to have to interview at least a dozen secretaries, and maybe sit all day in an outer office without seeing him at all. But no. There he was, just as accessible and pleasant and human –’
    ‘Well, why shouldn’t he be? He’s no ruddy little tin god.’
    ‘Aren’t you being rather spiteful now?’
    ‘Listen to me,’ said Cartwright. ‘One thing I should like to make clear. This is not a bad place to work. In English films, you get very little of the Hollywood high hocus-pocus and mysticism. People don’t lock themselves away into secret shrines behind a battery of secretaries. And everybody knows everybody else. From producer to director to star and all the way down, they’re all over the place. They drop in on each other, and hang about, and get in your way. They are mostly a very decent crowd. Some of them, even, are quite intelligent. Only –’
    ‘What?’
    ‘You’ll see,’ answered Cartwright, with gloomy relish.
    It is doubtful whether she heard him. They had emerged into hot sunlight beside the manor-house, and were walking up a broad, smooth slope of green sward at the curve of the lake.
    Parts of this lake had served, on various occasions, as the Thames, the Seine, the Euphrates, the Grand Canal, the Bosphorus, the Atlantic and/or Pacific Ocean. At the moment there was evidently a submarine in it, for Monica could see the grim deck and conning-tower. An inquisitive duck cruised round this, eyeing it. Beyond, where the lake narrowed, it was spanned by a foot-bridge leading to a path into some woods; and there was a large notice-board reading: ‘ NO VISITORS PERMITTED BEYOND THIS BRIDGE .’ Up the hill to their right – the side permitted to visitors – were the blank backs of the sound-stage, rising above trees. The middle of this parkland was ornamented by the façade of a noble Georgian manor-house, white and pillared, propped up with such skill that it required a second look before you realized it was only a shell. To Monica the sight of it brought a quicker heart-beat, the hot thrill of make-believe.
    And it emboldened her to ask a question.
    ‘Mr Hackett mentioned,’ she began; and stopped breathless.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘He said something about an actress named Frances Fleur. Do you know her?’
    ‘F.F.? Yes. What about her?’
    ‘Nothing; I was only asking. What’s she like? Is she nice?’
    Cartwright reflected. ‘F.F.? Yes, I suppose so. Quite a good scout.’ He paused, and regarded her narrowly above the sun-gleaming beard; it was a shrewd glance, as though pinning her to the wall. He seemed about to speak, and then changed his mind. He added, casually: ‘You’ve seen her on the screen, I suppose?’
    ‘Once or twice.’
    ‘Like her?’
    ‘She’s