“A matter of six months or so, I shouldn’t wonder. I’m not figuring on going back just yet. We’ve got some factories over here that I want to look into, and I may run over to Paris later on.”
“Do you know London at all?”
“No, but my chauffeur does, so I don’t worry. I picked up an English chauffeur in Cannes, Miss Pendleton. The French fellow I had wouldn’t leave his wife and family, and anyway, he didn’t speak any language that I could understand. But with this English chauffeur, if I listen real carefully, I can pick up a word now and then.”
They laughed at this. Madame Claire felt that she was going to enjoy Mr. Colebridge.
“You seem to be interested in a great many things,” she remarked presently. “Didn’t I understand Judy to say that the theater was one of them?”
“Only from a business point of view,” he explained. “I don’t claim to know anything about the stage. But when I see that a certain theater is about to go smash because it’s been managed by a lot of bone-heads, why, I don’t mind lending a hand. I practically own one in New York, and one in Cincinnati. There’s another one in New York that looks like getting into difficulties pretty soon.”
“Ah! And then you step in. But does that mean that you can put on certain plays, and have an actual voice in the production of them?”
“Well, I don’t concern myself much with that side of it. I don’t know a good play from a bad one. I like a good lively show now and then. But if I wanted a certain play put on, I’d get it put on, all right.”
Judy wondered why it was that financial weight and an understanding of the arts so seldom went hand in hand. Madame Claire pursued a line of thought of her own for a moment or two while Mr. Colebridge enlarged upon his powers.
And then, most unexpectedly, Dawson opened the door and announced Major Crosby.