Have His Carcase

‘No. Never like ’em when they want pretty girls without experience. Old Uncle Sullivan may be a hard nut, but he ain’t standing for anything of that sort. Told hire the girl was fitted up with a job, but he said he’d have a shot at her. She never came to me about it, though, so I suppose she

turned him down. If she had come, I’d have put her wise. I ain’t that keen on my commission, and if you ask any of the girls they’il tell you so. What’s the matter, eh? Has this Vavasour got her into a hole?’

‘Not exactly,’ said Wimsey. ‘She’s still in her mannequin job. But Vavasour show Mr Sullivan that other photograph, Inspector. Is that the man?’

Mr. Sullivan and Horrocks put; their heads together over the, photograph of Paul Alexis and shook them simultaneously.

‘No,’ said Horrocks, that’s not the man.’

.’Nothing like him,’ said Mr Sullivan.

‘Sure?’

‘Nothing like him,’ repeated, Mr Sullivan with emphasis. ‘How old’s that, fellow? Well, Vavasour was forty if he, was a day. Hollow-checked beggar, with a voice like Mother Siegel’s Syrup. Make a good Judas, if you were wanting such a thing.’

‘Or a Richard III,’ suggested Mr Horrocks.

‘If you read the part smarmy,’ said Mr Sullivan. ‘Can’t see him in Act V, though. All right for the bit with the citizens. You know. Enter Richard above, reading, between two monks. Matter of fact;’ he added, ‘that’s a difficult part to cast for. Inconsistent, to my mind.. You mightn’t think it, but I. do a bit of reading and thinking now and again, and what I say is, I don’t believe W. Shakespeare had his mind on the job when he wrote that part. Too slimy at the beginning and too tough at the end. It aan’t nature. Not but what the play always acts well. Plenty of pep in it, that’s why. Keeps moving. But he’s made Richard two men in one, that’s what I complain of. One of ‘em’s a wormy, plotting sort of fellow and the other’s a bold, bustling sort of chap who chops people’s heads off and flies into tempers. It don’t seem to fit, somehow, eh?’

Inspector Umpelty began to scrabble with his feet.

‘I always think,’ said Wimsey, ‘that Shakespeare meant Richard to be one of those men who are always deliberately acting a part — dramatising things, so to speak. I.don’t believe his furies are any more real than his love-making. The scene about the strawberries — that’s clearly all put on.’

‘Maybe, But the scene with Buckingham and the clock eh? Maybe you’re’ right. It ain’t supposed to be my business to know about Shakespeare, eh? Chorus-ladies’ legs are my department. But I been mixed up with the stage all my life one way and another, and it Ann’s all legs and bedroom scenes. That makes you laugh, um? To hear me go on like this. But I tell you what,’ it makes me sick, sometimes, been in this business. Half these managers don’t want actors and actresses they want types. When my old father was runnin’ a repertory company it was actors he wanted

fellows who could be Iago one night and Brutus the next and do a bit of farce or genteel comedy in the intervals. But now if a fellow, starts out making his hit with a stammer and an eyeglass he’s got to play stammers and eyeglasses tell he’s ninety. Poor, old Rosencrantz’ He sure was fed-up that you weren’t thinking of playing his Worm for him. As for getting an experienced actor and giving him a show in the part — nix! I’ve got the man that could do it, nice chap — clever as you make ’em. But he made a hit as the dear old silver-haired vicar in Roses Round the Door, and nobody well look at him now, except for silver-haired vicars. It’ll be the end of hem as an actor, but who cares? Only old Uncle Sullivan, who’s got to take his bread the side it’s buttered and look pleasant about et, eh?’

Inspector Umpelty rose to his feet.

‘I’m sure we’re much obliged to: you, Mr Sullivan,’ he said. ‘We won’t detain you any longer.’

‘Sorry I couldn’t — do more for you. If ever I see that Vavasour fellow again I’ll let you know. But he’s probably come to grief. Sure it ain’t any trouble for little Kohn?’

‘We don’t think so, Mr Sullivan.’

‘She’s a good girl,’ insisted Mr Sullivan, ‘I’d hate to think of her going wrong. I know you’re think n’ me an old fool.

‘Far from it,’ said Wimsey.

They were let out through the private door, and picked their way down a narrow staircase in silence.

‘Vavasour, indeed!’—grunted the Inspector. ‘I’d like to know who he is and what he’s up to.. Think that fat idiot was en the game?

‘I’m sure he knows nothing about it,’ said Wimsey, ‘And if he says he knows nothing about Vavasour you may be pretty sure he’s not really a producer or anything genuinely theatrical. These people all know one another.’

‘Humph! Fat lot of help that is.’ ‘As you say. I wonder ‘Well?’

‘I wonder what made Horrocks think of Richard III’ ‘Thought the man looked a bad egg, I suppose. Wasn’t that the fellow who made up his mind to be a villain?’