The Cutthroat (Isaac Bell 10)

“When did he come to America?”

“First time was ’ninety-seven.”

“At twenty-three.”

“He made a name for himself in London first. Back and forth ever since, touring.”

Bell said, “I’ll cable Joel Wallace to check at the Bedford School, but it could take forever. He must be lying about his age. If Mapes was right, Vietor’s got to be in his forties.”

“And there is something else, Mr. Bell. He’s coaching Lucy Balant for a bigger part. I warned her not to be alone with any man. Including him. I’m not sure she’ll listen.”

Bell said, “I’ll tell Harry Warren to keep a close watch on him. Who else in the Valentine cast?”

“The actor who plays Detective Doyle is definitely lying about his age. He claims thirty-two. A girl who knew him well swears he’s fifty-two. And he told me he was born in Jersey City, not London.”

“How do you rate him?”

“He sounds English to me, but, like Archie says, most of them do. But he’s nowhere as young as thirty-two. Fifty, if he’s a day.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“His slow reflexes.”

38

A life in the theater, both on the stage and behind the scenes, had taught Henry Booker Young the protocol for conducting a reading for a part to be won by an angel’s protégée. An air of business as usual was expected of the stage manager. But brusque impatience was to be leavened with kindness. And talent, no matter how sparse, was to be noted and somehow praised. Particularly when the angel—the tall, handsome, and, to Young’s eye, dangerous-looking Mr. Bell—was sitting on the edge of his seat in the front row of the otherwise empty house, watching like a mother falcon.

“Can you tell me about your work on the stage, Miss Mills?”

Helen Mills answered in a rush. “I was Nora in A Doll’s House, Gwendolen Fairfax in The Importance of Being Earnest, Candida in Candida, and—”

“Where did you perform these roles?”

“Bryn Mawr.”

“The college.”

“Yes, Mr. Young.”

“Have you performed with any legitimate companies?”

“This will be my first.”

“Have you ever read for any legitimate companies?”

Helen looked flustered.

“Well, have you?”

“I read for Jimmy Valentine.”

“How did you make out there?”

“I decided against taking the part.”

Young smiled thinly. “That would jibe with a story making the rounds about Mr. Lockwood’s broken nose. Was it you, Miss Mills, who socked the star?”

“I’m afraid I lost my temper.”