Ruddy Gore Read Online Free PDF Page B

port.
    ‘Yes, Miss?’ Phryne recoiled under a pub-cellar exhalation and said, ‘Can you tell Sir Bernard that Miss Fisher is here?’
    ‘’Erb! Nip up and tell Sir B that Miss Fisher’s
    ’ere!’
    A boy wearing carpet slippers and a dark suit evidently made for a younger brother sauntered 32
    for the stairs. His slowness evidently displeased the port-swiller.
    ‘Get a move on!’ he snarled, and flung a boot.
    The bare calves flashed upwards and the boy yelped something very derogatory and returned the boot, which bounced and was fielded with a facility that spoke of a cricketing youth.
    ‘Sorry,’ said the doorman, putting the boot on a shelf in his little box and settling his greatcoat.
    ‘Cheeky little blighter. Knows I can’t chase ’im.
    Me bronicals are something crook in this weather, ever since the Somme they been bad. I went as a stretcher bearer – wanted to see what glorious con-flict was like, see? Weren’t like the Bard says and that’s a fact.’ He coughed experimentally. ‘Now, Miss, what’s goin’ on in the ’ouse? I reckernise you – you’re Sir B’s friend what’s a detective.
    What’s been ’appenin’? No one ever tells me anythin’, but I’ve ’ad to call for a doctor and now
    ’Is Nibs says he wants the cops.’
    ‘Someone has been poisoning your Sir Ruthvens,’ said Phryne. ‘Who could have done that, do you think?’
    ‘Plenty of reason for wantin’ Mr Ruddy Copland gone,’ said the man, consideringly.
    ‘Rude. Difficult. ’Ard to please. Never a good word to throw to a dog and mean as a tick.
    Nothin’ against Robbie Craven though – nice young lad. But there’s been funny things ’appen-ing. Funny even for the Maj, I mean.’
    ‘What sort of things?’ Phryne leaned against the doorman’s box and drew her cloak closer. It was 33
    freezing in the small corridor. ‘Shouldn’t they get you a heater of some sort? It’s cold, no wonder you’re wearing a greatcoat.’
    ‘Yair. Perishin’. No one cares about a doorkeeper. I was lucky to get this job, though. You’d never believe that me and Sir B is the same age –
    somethin’ cruel, innit? Known ’im for a long time, I ’ave – I been with G and S since I was a nipper.’
    ‘I thought you had a London accent,’ said Phryne, wondering why stage-door entrances were invariably so shabby.
    ‘I was there when they did Ruddigore for the first time. I seen Sir Arthur Sullivan conductin’
    with ’is lighted baton, and Mr Gilbert shoulderin’
    out into the fog to walk the Embankment and chew ’is cigar until they found out if it was a hit or not. ’E was a toff, Mr Gilbert was. I remember
    ’im looking for his wife – ’e says to me, ‘‘Tom, have you seen Mrs Gilbert?’’ and I says, ‘‘She’s round behind, sir,’’ and he says quick as a flash,
    ‘‘I know that, Tom, but where is she?’’ The doorkeeper laughed heartily, coughed, and took a sip out of a bottle artlessly concealed in a biscuit tin.
    Phryne laughed.
    ‘When did they do it first? It’s my favourite.’
    ‘In 1887, Miss. Ran over 200 performances, but never been really popular – that’s why Mr Gilbert wanted to call it Not as Good as The Mikado . They had a lot of arguments, them two. Mr Gilbert said they should call it Robin and Richard Were Two Pretty Men and Sir Arthur says, ‘‘No, my dear chap,’’ and Mr Gilbert growls, ‘‘Oh all right, we’ll 34
    call it Ruddigore then!’’ and outs with ’im into the street. Then they complained that the title was rude, so he says, ‘‘Well, what about Kensington Gore ?’’ and Sir Arthur wouldn’t ’ave that, so he said it had to be Ruddigore and that was where they left it. Takes a person of refined musical tastes to appreciate, does Ruddigore .’ He grinned at Phryne, showing unexpectedly white teeth and a deeply lined face.
    Phryne was about to ask about Walter Copland again when Sir Bernard came down the stairs and took her by the hand.
    ‘Phryne