Mr. Stalkey opened his eyes. “Want you!” he exclaimed. “Let me tell you something. I must have seen this play a hundred times, but this morning for the first time you’ve shown me how this scene should be played. Let’s go up to the office and talk business.” He threw an arm around the old man’s shoulder and started to walk him off stage.
Watching Tom Agate’s face was an experience Peggy never forgot. When she had first seen him the night before he was a lost soul without the will or the ability to venture far from the airless confines of Syd Walsh’s shop. But now he looked alive and alert, like a man who had rediscovered himself and was proud of it.
Then, suddenly, Peggy saw his body tremble and sway. For a moment she thought he had been taken ill and made a move forward to help him. It was then that she saw what the trouble was.
Standing in the doorway leading to the backstage area, her hands clenched tightly together, was Katherine Nelson.
Stamped across her face was a look of such unutterable shock, mingled with pain and fear, that for a brief moment Peggy felt sorry for her. Then slowly the color crept back into her cheeks and she took a step forward.
Oscar Stalkey, who seemed blissfully unaware of what was happening, welcomed her eagerly. “You’ve just missed the greatest audition of all time,” he said jovially. “But don’t worry, it’s a performance you’ll see a lot of over the next few months. Katherine, I’d like you to meet Tom Agate.”
Katherine Nelson ignored Tom completely. “What do you mean?” she said in a voice that she was obviously controlling at great effort. “What kind of audition?”
“Why, Tom Agate has just read for the grandfather in Innocent Laughter,” explained Stalkey. “And, I might add, has got the part.” Katherine Nelson stepped back as though she had been struck in the face. “By the way,” he continued blandly, “do you two know each other?”
“Know each other!” Katherine Nelson breathed. She turned on Stalkey in sudden fury. “What are you trying to do to me?” she grated. “Ruin my career? Make a laughingstock of me?”
Oscar Stalkey looked bewildered. “Why, my dear,” he temporized, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I don’t think you do either!”