In the living-room beyond, Caesar Bonn was quarrelling with Breezy Bellairs.
“Publicity!” Caesar was saying. “But of what a character! No, no! I am sorry. I regret this with all my heart. For me as for you it is a disaster.”
“Listen, Caesar, you’re all wrong. My public won’t let me down. They’d want to see me.” The voice rose steeply. “They love me,” Breezy cried out, and after a pause: “You bloody swine, they love me.”
“I must go.”
“All right. You’ll see. I’ll ring Carmarelli. Carmarelli’s been trying to get me for years. Or the Lotus Tree. They’ll be fighting for me. And your bloody clientele’ll follow me. They’ll eat us. I’ll ring Stein. There’s not a restaurateur in town — ”
“One moment.” Caesar was closer to the door. “To spare you discomfiture I feel I must warn you. Already I have discussed this matter with these gentlemen. An informal meeting. We are all agreed. It will not be possible for you to appear at any first-class restaurant or club.”
They heard a falsetto whining. Caesar’s voice intervened. “Believe me,” he said, “when I say I mean this kindly. After all, we are old friends. Take my advice. Retire. You can afford to do so, no doubt.” He gave a nervous giggle. Breezy had whispered. Evidently they were close together on the other side of the door. “No, no!” Caesar said loudly. “I can do nothing about it. Nothing! Nothing!”
Breezy screamed out abruptly: “I’ll ruin you!” and the pencil skidded across the plain-clothes officer’s notebook.
“You have ruined yourself,” Caesar gabbled. “You will keep silence. Understand me: there must be complete silence. For you there is no more spot light. You are finished. Keep off!” There was a scuffle, and a stifled ejaculation. Something thudded heavily against the door and slid down its surface. “There, now!” Caesar panted. He sounded scandalized and breathlessly triumphant. Unexpectedly, after a brief pause, he went on in a reflective voice: “No, truly, you are too stupid. This decides me. I am resolved. I inform the police of your activities. You will make a foolish appearance in court. Everyone will laugh a little and forget you. You will go to gaol or perhaps to a clinic. If you are of good behaviour you may, in a year or so, be permitted to conduct a little band.”
“Christ! Tell them, then! Tell them!” Beyond the door Breezy stumbled to his feet. His voice broke into falsetto. “But it’s me that’ll tell the tale, me! If I go to the dock, by God, I’ll wipe the grins off all your bloody faces. You haven’t heard anything yet. Try any funny business with ME! Finished! By God, I’ve only just started. You’re all going to hear how I slit up a bloody Dago’s heart for him.”
“This is it,” Alleyn said, and opened the door.
The End