Death of a Beauty Queen Read Online Free PDF

and ask me, and I’ll tell ’em what I think of ‘em.”
    He walked off indignantly, leaving Wood quite breathless, and a little way down the corridor came on Sargent himself, still in the company of Paul Irwin. Had Sargent been alone, Beattie might quite possibly, in the heat of his indignation, have complained about this betting on the chances of the different competitors that had struck him as such a piece of impudence; but Paul’s presence had on him the repressing, almost chilling, effect, it often exercised on younger people. Then, too, an indignant matron had just recognised the cinema owner, and now came hurrying up, eager to unburden herself of a grievance.
    â€˜You said there wouldn’t be any favouritism,’ she protested ; ‘and there’s my girl got to share her room with such a crowd none of them can’t even turn round – and only one glass between them all – and there’s that Caroline Mears got a room all to herself.’
    â€˜She had to go somewhere, hadn’t she?’ Sargent defended himself. ‘I couldn’t push her in where there wasn’t any room already. I know we’ve had to ask competitors to put up with crowded conditions, and we couldn’t make the crowding worse by putting more in a room, now could we?’
    â€˜That’s no reason why Caroline Mears should have a room all to herself,’ insisted the still indignant matron, ‘and my girl not able even to get hold of a glass to see herself in – and “Private” and “No Admission” stuck on her door, so her ladyship shan’t be interfered with. “No admission,” indeed,’ she snorted. ‘Shows who’s meant to win.’
    â€˜We’ve nothing to do with the judging, that’s for the committee alone’ – Sargent explained mildly – ‘and that notice on the door has nothing to do with Miss Mears. What’s happened is that Miss Mears’s name was left out of the list by some accident. Her name wasn’t down for any dressing-room, and they had to come and tell me one competitor had been forgotten – no accommodation provided, and every dressing-room crowded to capacity. I told them they had got to put her somewhere, and they said there wasn’t any somewhere. They said: “We can’t ask her to do her dressing in the corridor, can we?” So I said: “Well, there’s my private office – stick her in there; only mind you leave the ‘No Admission’ notice on the door, or someone will go barging in while she’s pulling up her stockings.” So that’s what was done. The “No Admission” notice is just one I put on myself, in the hope of having a corner to myself to-night. No chance of that now, though. The fact is, we’ve just had to manage the best way we can. This way, Mr Irwin.’
    He hurried on, leaving a still profoundly dissatisfied lady behind him. Mr Irwin said:
    â€˜Miss Mears’s name having been forgotten seems to have turned out rather a good thing for her.’
    â€˜She doesn’t think so,’ retorted Sargent. *You ought to have heard her shouting about having to dress in a man’s office without so much as a looking-glass in the whole place, except the one she had in her handbag.’
    They were passing now a side passage that branched off from the one they were following. At the end of this passage, where it turned towards the entrance used for scenery, was a door marked ‘Private’ and further adorned with a piece of square cardboard, on which had been painted, with a brush dipped in ink, in large, intimidating letters, the words: ‘Keep Out – No Admission.’ The door was half open, and standing on the threshold was a youngster of twenty-one or two, or thereabouts, his hand upon the door-knob. He was a slightly built youth, handsome, with small, well-formed features, and a skin like a