Household (45 page)

“I’ll bet youse are waitin’ to see Mr. Goldbaum, huh?” he asked, looking interrogatively at Septimus.

“We are,” Septimus replied coolly.

“So’m I. Betcha you’re here to discuss
The Queen’s Necklace
, huh?” Before Septimus could reply, the man continued brashly, “I knew it. I read the papers. You, her’n him’re from the East Coast. Had yerself a magic act. Betcha don’t even have an agent, huh? That’s bad. You oughter have an agent. You need to know more’n how to get a rabbit out’ve a hat. An agent’s the man’ll get youse a fair shake. That’s the only way. An’ you might not know it but I’m the best in the business. You can talk about Ted Small an’ any other of them guys, but nobody knows more about flesh on the hoof than little old Sammy Shelton an’ that’s me.” He reached into his breast pocket and brought out a card. “Anybody asks you who your personal representative is you tell’m Sammy Shelton. Otherwise you’re goin’ to get screwed for sure.”

“Mr. Shelton, I don’t remember giving you an appointment.” Ruth Fiske, standing just beyond the door to the inner office, spoke in glacial accents.

Mr. Shelton assumed an expression that expertly mingled surprise and hurt. “Why, Miss Fiske, honey, I’m their personal representative.”

Before Miss Fiske could protest, and before Septimus, who was clearly about to burst forth with a hot denial, could utter a word, Richard said gently, “I’m afraid that position is already filled, Mr. Shelton. I am acting as my family’s artistic representative.”

Shelton’s mouth fell open but closed instantly only to open again with an astonished, “Ya can’t be your own agent. It ain’t done. We artist’s reps’ll have your hide. You won’t work here in this town, mister, an’ you can put that in your pipe’n smoke it. An’ let me tell you...”

“That is enough, Mr. Shelton.” Septimus turned his dark stare upon the agent. “You will leave, please.”

Richard winced and exchanged a long-suffering look with Kathie as Mr. Shelton rose and without another word walked stiff-legged to the door. As it closed behind him, Miss Fiske turned an amazed glance on them. “My goodness,” she breathed, “you must have hypnotized him. I’ve never seen that little vulture...” She blushed. “Excuse me. Won’t you come in? Mr. Goldbaum will see you now.”

Richard did not venture another look at his sister or his father. Otherwise he would not have been able to contain the wild laughter that threatened to escape from him. It was not happy laughter. The accuracy of Miss Fiske’s observation had erected another wall between them. Though she had been joking, the three of them knew she had hit the nail squarely on its proverbial head. Mr. Shelton, finding himself outside on the sidewalk in front of the studio, would soon be as confused as a certain cab driver upon realizing that the receipt of their ride did not tally with the meter.

“Are you really repping for your family?” Miss Fiske demanded.

“Why yes.” Richard still avoided looking at his family. “I am often employed in that capacity.”

“Well, that’s fine,” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “That, should make matters much easier, Mr. Grenfall. I wish all actors were equally qualified. You’ve no idea how they are victimized by those bloodsuckers. Mr. Shelton actually takes fees from aspiring youngsters whether he gets them work or not.”

“So I’ve heard,” Richard lied, thinking that her eyes were very beautiful, more beautiful even than they had seemed last night, two shining emeralds but more lovely than emeralds. He added strongly, “I can protect my family.”

“Richard has a fine head for business,” Septimus said.

“I’m delighted to hear it.” She moved back. “Please come in. Mr. Vernon’s been delayed but he should be joining us presently.”

“Mr. Vernon?” Kathie questioned.

“Our director,” the secretary amplified, as she led them into a palatial office that reflected the decorating scheme on view at The Castle.

Once more it was a matter of no one meeting anyone’s eyes as the full glory of peacock blue walls painted with golden tigers with red stripes burst upon them. An immense desk lacquered in Chinese red and ornamented with gold at all four corners further stunned them and minimized the effect of two huge turquoise blue Fu dogs positioned at either side of a couch covered in red leather. In front of the couch was a low table inlaid with mother of pearl. A tiger and a leopard skin were spread on the oriental carpet, and close beside a wide peacock chair stood a small table balanced on elephant’s tusks. An African shield hung on the wall behind the couch.

The monarch of all he surveyed was seated in a gold and scarlet thronelike chair behind his desk. He had wide shoulders and a plump body, at least as far as they could see which was only to his waist. However he rose immediately proving himself to be about five feet six. His round face was lighted by large sparkling blue eyes, much enlarged by the thick rimless glasses balanced on his short nose. His mouth was small and full, his head bald, his expression benign. He was clad in a white linen suit that, along with a black string tie, called to mind mint juleps on a Southern veranda, but his speech was coated with a heavy German accent.

“Ach, you are here.” He smiled expansively, the while his eyes narrowed. “And how the house are you liking?” He looked surprised but gratified by their assurances that they were delighted with it. “And disturbed you’ve not been?”

“It’s very quiet and peaceful,” Kathie said.

“It can be,” he allowed. “I am glad you are finding it to your taste.” He gave them another side glance. “And you find it quiet?”

“Very quiet.” Septimus nodded.

“Gut, gut, please to sit down.” He waved an arm at the various seating accomodations in the room. Turning his eyes on Miss Fiske, he suddenly barked, “Pictures! Their pictures I will need.”

“I have made appointments with the photographer, sir,” she said.

“Gut.” He looked back at them. “You have the story of this picture read?”

“They have not yet received the synopsis, sir,” Miss Fiske put in quickly. “If you will recall, it was finished only yesterday. I have copies here.”

“Ach, then I must explain. You,” he pointed at Kathie, “are the wife of the magician Cagliostro, who is the villain. Ach, a Satanist he is and controls half of Paris. The ladies come to him for séances and for the black masses he conducts in the cellars of Versailles.”

Septimus, with Cagliostros’ benign freemasonry in mind, was about to contradict the producer, but Mr. Goldbaum’s voice flowed on carrying the unspoken protest away on the current of his enthusiasm. “Cagliostro is old and ugly, ja? His wife is his victim, poor young girl, who of him is so afraid. He looks at her and she trembles. Brrrr. Also under his thumb are the Queen and King of France. The beautiful Marie Antoinette has a son who is sick, ja? Always he is bleeding, bleeding, bleeding—prick his finger and he bleeds like a pig who is stuck. The magician Cagliostro makes the hocus-pocus and cures this bleeding son, and so Marie Antionette protects him even though she knows he is no gut!” Mr. Goldbaum frowned and pounded the table. “No gut, but she thinks he is gut, and the King, he is a numbskull so he goes along with it. Why worry? He on Zizi depends. Zizi is his name for his Queen.” Again Septimus would have spoken, mentioning the recently murdered Nicholas II of Russia, his Empress and Rasputin, but again he was defeated by the power and thrust of Mr. Goldbaum’s storytelling.

“Then comes this Grand Duke and he does not trust the magician, especially since he has the eye on Madame Cagliostro, the beautiful young girl. Also he is at court out of favor and cannot go to the big parties they throw at Versailles. So this diamond necklace he buys and wishes Cagliostro to hand it over to the Queen because they are such good friends, ja? Cagliostro has the influence and he don’t have any. So Cagliostro will do it for a big sum of money, but he is one smart cookie and doesn’t want to get involved so he sends his beautiful wife to deliver the necklace and on the way she is captured by Danton, who has found out about it.”

“Danton?” Septimus managed to question.

“He is for the people of Paris. He is also a handsome young man like Richard Barthelmess or Ramon Navarro or Rudy Valentino and he falls in love with the beautiful young wife. Ach, she is so beautiful!” The producer gazed at Kathie for a moment. “He finds out that the necklace is for the Queen and it has all these big diamonds so it is worth lots of money. He decides to sell it so that the people of Paris can have bread. He will put a fake one in its place.”

Richard’s astonished gaze fell upon Miss Fiske’s face but found that the secretary’s attention was riveted to the notebook she held in her lap.

“Meanwhile,” the producer continued, “he and Madame Cagliostro are in love at first sight. He detains her while they are the necklace copying. Danton and Madame Cagliostro go in for a little innocent smooching but nothing more because immediately he sees her, he respects her. But Cagliostro looks into his crystal ball and finds out what is happening. Ach, he is angry. He goes off in his coach and separates the young couple. In the Bastille he throws Danton. He gets back the necklace and puts it in his safe and gives the copy to the queen who thinks it is the real thing and is very grateful. Diamonds she likes a lot. Meanwhile, the beautiful Madame Cagliostro sneaks away from her husband and gets to the Bastille where she gives a rope ladder to Danton and he climbs out. He incites the people of Paris and there is a big revolution and the Bastille is knocked down. Ach, what a scene that will be! Cagliostro is guillotined and so is the Duke and the King and the Queen and Danton marries this beautiful girl.”

“Ah,” Septimus was the first to break the slight silence that ensued upon the conclusion of Mr. Goldbaum’s narrative. “An ingenious plot.”

“Yes, a few departures from history are made, but the audiences must have someone for whom they can root, ja? And so there is handsome young Damon and beautiful young Madame Cagliostro.”

“Who live happily ever after?” Kathie murmured.

“As far as we know,” shrugged Mr. Goldbaum. “As far as the audiences know. And do you not see the opportunities for spectacle? The court of Versailles? The fall of the Bastille? Cagliostro in the cellars with all those beautiful ladies? The black mass? Danton on his big white horse waylaying the coach of the beautiful young Madame Cagliostro? It will be bigger than
The Birth of a Nation’.
Spectacular! Stupendous. It has everything, ja? Orgies, battle scenes, the guillotine, the mobs of Paris, a thousand extras will we use! And in the theater they will play on two pianos the Marseillaise!” He rubbed his hands together, adding gleefully, “Even Griffith will not be able to top this, ja?”

“I shouldn’t think he could,” Septimus agreed.

More congratulatory comments were obviously being invited but the Grenfalls were fortunately spared from inventing them by the abrupt entrance of a tall dark young man who was breathless and disheveled. There was a trickle of blood running down his forehead from his hairline. “My apologies, sir,” he addressed Mr. Goldbaum in a clipped British accent. “I am sorry I am late, but I was caught in the French-Indian wars on the back lot and sustained a slight wound from the arrow.”

“An arrow, Matt?” Ruth Fiske rose swiftly. “I do hope you weren’t hurt badly?”

“Not at all. No more than a scratch, Ruthie.” He smiled at her reassuringly.

“I have some first aid material in my desk,” she said. “What were you on the back lot doing?” Mr. Goldbaum demanded severely.

“I thought I’d take a shortcut, sir.”

“Ach, haste makes waste.”

“And lays waste,” Vernon quipped.

Two members of the Grenfall family had listened to the brief exchange between Miss Fiske and Mr. Vernon with definitely heightened interest. Kathie, of course, had recognized the director immediately and with an odd little flutter of the heart had also noticed his astonishing resemblance to Colin or to Lord Byron as the case might be. She had also noted his familiarity with Miss Fiske as well as the latter’s evident concern over the rather deep scratch he had sustained. It was borne in upon Kathie that Miss Fiske was really a very pretty girl, who undoubtedly saw a great deal of Mr. Vernon at the studio and possibly away from it. She discovered within herself an astonishing and embarrassing antipathy toward the secretary, whom, heretofore, she had liked.

Much the same feelings were passing through Richard, try as he did not to glower at Mr. Vernon whose exchange with Miss Fiske had not pleased him. The concern reflected on her face for what was, after all, no more than the merest pinprick had annoyed him. It had also added a new dimension to his thinking. The lovely Miss Fiske must meet many directors and actors every day which was a sobering and disquieting notion. He had never realized that her job was replete with such temptations.

Mr. Goldbaum said, “Now that you are here, Matthew, may I introduce Miss Katherine, Mr. Septimus and Mr. Richard Grenfall?”

Matthew Vernon, acknowledging the introductions, turned an appreciative eye on Kathie saying, “Miss Grenfall, I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on!” He immediately flushed a deep red, adding hastily, “I mean...”

“He means,” Kathie said with admirable if icy composure, “that we met while I was waiting in the wings to be sawed in half by Papa—in tights.”

The laughter that followed fortunately cleared the air, and after the introductions the Grenfalls were given the script and Vernon’s rehearsal schedule.

“I would like to do a reading of the first scene which will take place in the Paris apartment of the Cagliostros, so please study that portion of your script.” Vernon told them in crisp businesslike tones.

“Will we be introduced to the rest of the cast?” Kathie asked.

“Not all of them, Miss Grenfall. Some are still working on other films. We hope to stage the final scenes first. These will need a great many people, and while they are still shooting the French-Indian wars, we will be able to use the extras for the toppling of the Bastille. Then there is the question of Mr Conover Bliss, who will be performing the role of Danton Mr. Bliss is due to star in
Sinister Sisters
at Grand Films so we will have to do your scenes with him first. Consequently I would like you to pay close attention to the Danton-Madame Cagliostro scenes and Mr. Grenfall,” he turned his eyes on Septimus, “I would like to speak to you about Cagliostro. I understand you are an authority on the subject.”