“I don’t know if Beverley has told you about Mark’s acting. He was an amateur of all the arts, and vain of his little talents, but as an actor he seemed to himself most wonderful. Certainly he had some ability for the stage, so long as he had the stage to himself and was playing to an admiring audience. As a professional actor in a small part he would have been hopeless; as an amateur playing the leading part, he deserved all that the local papers had ever said about him. And so the idea of giving us a private performance, directed against a professional actress who had made fun of him, appealed equally to his vanity and his desire for retaliation. If he, Mark Ablett, by his wonderful acting could make Ruth Norris look a fool in front of the others, could take her in, and then join in the laugh at her afterwards, he would indeed have had a worthy revenge!
“It strikes you as childish, Mr. Gillingham? Ah, you never knew Mark Ablett.
“‘How, Cay, how?’ he said eagerly.
“‘Well, I haven’t really thought it out,’ I protested. ‘It was just an idea.’
“He began to think it out for himself.
“‘I might pretend to be a manager, come down to see her—but I suppose she knows them all. What about an interviewer?’
“‘It’s going to be difficult,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘You’ve got rather a characteristic face, you know. And your beard—’
“‘I’d shave it off,’ he snapped.
“‘My dear Mark!’
“He looked away, and mumbled, ‘I’ve been thinking of taking it off, anyhow. And besides, if I’m going to do the thing, I’m going to do it properly.’