“Still worrying?” Carol said, putting her hand on my arm.
I started because I had not heard her come down the few stone steps that led from the office buildings.
I looked at her anxiously. She was serious but calm, and she met my eyes with unruffled serenity.
“It’s all right,” she said, smiling. “Of course, it was a shock to him, but he was rather fine about it. I wish he wasn’t so fond of me.” She drew a sharp little breath and shook her head. “I hate hurting people, Clive.”
“What did he say?” I asked, opening the car door for her. “Is he letting you off for a week?”
She nodded. “Yes. The picture’s held up anyway. Jerry Highams’s ill. It’s nothing much, but it’ll mean a delay and — and, of course, Frank is still away.” She glanced back at the office building embarrassed when she mentioned Imgram’s name. “Clive—” she paused uneasily.
“What is it?”
“R.G. wants to see you.”
My heart gave an uneasy lurch. “Wants to see me?” I repeated, staring at her. “What on earth for?”
She got in the car and adjusted her dress over her knees. “He wanted to know if you were out here and when I said you were, he asked if you would see him. He didn’t say why.”
Tie’s going to back out of his contract,” I said, suddenly angry. “That’s how he’s going to get even.”
“Oh no, Clive,” Carol said, quickly. “R.G.”s not like that. I’m sure he—”
“Then why is he asking to see me? My God! You don’t think he wants to lecture me on how I should treat you? I’m damned if I’d stand that from him.”
Carol looked worried. “I think you should see him, Clive.
He’s important and—” She stopped, hesitated and then went on, “but it’s up to you. If you don’t want to — well, you must please yourself.”
I got out of the car and slammed the door. “All right, I’ll see him. I won’t be a minute,” I -said and ran up the steps into the office building.
I did not like this. It wasn’t that I was scared of Gold, but when a man is as powerful and arrogant as he was, he would automatically dominate the situation.
I walked down the long corridor with my heart bumping uneasily against my ribs. I knocked on his office door and went in.
A tall, lovely looking girl with a Veronica Lake hair style, dressed in a well-cut black silk frock glanced up as I entered. She was sitting at a glass topped desk on which was scattered a mass of papers.
She gave me a quick, shrewd look and then smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Thurston. Will you go right ahead? Mr. Gold is expecting you.”
I thanked her and crossed the office to another door and entered.
Gold’s office was furnished like a sitting room. There was no desk. A large table at which some twenty people could comfortably sit occupied the far end of the room. Around the big, antique fireplace were armchairs and a large settee. Above the fireplace was an original Van Gogh which supplied the only bright colouring in the room.
Gold sat in an armchair facing the door. At his elbow was a small table on which were a few papers, a telephone and a large ebony cigar box.
He looked up as I came in and his massive head sank further into his shoulders.
“Sit down, Mr. Thurston,” he said, waving his hand to the armchair opposite me.
I was aware that my heart was beating rapidly and that my mouth was dry. This annoyed me and I tried to control my nerves without success. I sat down, crossed my legs and eyed him as calmly as I could.
He did not look at me for a moment, but drew on his cigar, blowing a thin stream of smoke to the ceiling. Then his sleepy, tawny coloured eyes met mine.
“I understand, Mr. Thurston,” he began, his low pitched voice was bland, “that Carol and you are getting married this afternoon.”
I took out my cigarette case, selected a cigarette, tapped it once or twice on my thumb nail and lit it before replying. “We are,” I said shortly and put my cigarette case back into my pocket.
“Is that wise?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
A muscle in my calf began to quiver. “That is something for us to decide, Mr. Gold,” I returned.
“I suppose it is,” he said, “but I have known Carol for some time and I don’t want to see her unhappy.”
“I appreciate how you feel,” I said, my anger struggling with my awe of the man. “I assure you that Carol will be very happy.” I drew a deep breath and went on a little too hurriedly to be really effective. “Much happier, Mr. Gold, than if she had married a man twice her age.”
He looked at me. “I wonder,” he said, tapping ash into the tray near the cigar box. He brooded for a moment, then went on, “I haven’t a great deal of time, Mr. Thurston, so you will forgive me if I come to the point.”
“I haven’t got any time to waste either, Mr. Gold,” I snapped back. “Carol is waiting for me.”
He placed his finger tips together and eyed me with sleepy indifference. “I am surprised that Carol could have fallen in love with anyone quite so worthless as you,” he said with disconcerting directness.
“Do we have to be personal?” I felt a sudden rush of blood to my face.
“Oh, I think so. You might ask me why I find you worthless. I’ll tell you. You have no background. You have succeeded by an extraordinary chance — call it a fluke if you like — in getting a certain amount of notoriety, and in earning more than you ever thought possible. It is, to say the least, a lucky flash in the pan, more extraordinary, perhaps, because your first play was excellent, although your novels are pure sensation. I have often wondered how you came to write that play. You see, Mr. Thurston, when I heard that Carol was fond of you I made it my business to find out something about you.”
“I don’t think I’m going to listen to any more of this,” I said, between my teeth. “My private life is my affair, Mr. Gold.”
“It would be if you were not attempting to share it with Carol,” he returned quietly. “As you have been foolish enough to do that, you have no private life as far as I’m concerned.” He regarded his cigar for a moment and then looked over at me. “You are not only a bad writer with no furture, Mr. Thurston, but you are also an exceedingly unpleasant character. I can’t, of course, prevent you marrying Carol, but I can watch her interests and I will do so.”
I got to my feet. “This has gone beyond a joke,” I exclaimed, my nervousness overcome by anger. “You want Carol for yourself and you’re being disagreeable because I’ve beaten you to it. All right, I can get along very well without you, Mr. Gold. I don’t want your fifty thousand dollars. You and your Studio can go to hell as far as I’m concerned.”
He still regarded me with an absent minded, indifferent expression. “Keep away from that Marlow woman, Mr. Thurston, or you and I will have another little talk.”
I stared at him, shocked. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“Come, don’t let us waste time. I know you have been making a fool of yourself with this woman. At first, I thought it was one of those unfortunate failings that men have who either have become bored with the usual run of women or else are suffering from some odd kink that the ordinary woman cannot satisfy. But I find you do not come under these categories. You have actually been stupid and weak enough to let this woman infatuate you. Surely there can be no better example of spineless degeneracy than that? When I heard of this, Mr. Thurston, I was not disappointed. I felt you were running to type.”
“Okay,” I said, furiously embarrassed to know that he had found out so much about me, “you’ve had your say. I hope you’ve enjoyed it. Now I’m going and I’m marrying Carol.