“Well—” Randy said, “it may sound peculiar, but I’d rather not say just yet. You see, I can tell you this much about him, he’s a very important sort of a man—a public figure, you might say—and I know how he hates publicity of any sort. I spoke to him earlier this evening to see if he’d be willing to come down for an audition, and he agreed, providing we told nobody about it. It’s not that he’d mind having it known that he’s invested in a play, after he decides to do it. But if it were to get out that he was coming down here for a private audition, the Penthouse Theater would be crawling with newspaper reporters and photographers. Not only would he be bothered, but the publicity would almost force him to invest, whether he wanted to or not.”
“Boy!” Peggy said in wonder. “He must be really important!”
“He is,” Randy said. “I wouldn’t be this secretive if he weren’t. You’ll just have to go along with the game until next week. Then you’ll find out who he is when he shows up.”
“You can trust us,” Amy said. “We wouldn’t breathe a word of it. And besides, we don’t know any reporters!”
“I do,” Greta said. “And even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t want to know any secret. If it ever got out, I wouldn’t want to be among the suspected leaks.”
“That’s just why I’m not telling anybody,” Randy agreed. “That way, if anybody finds out he’s coming down here, it will have to be from one of his associates, not from one of us.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Amy agreed ruefully. “But I can hardly wait to find out what this is all about!”
“What scene are we going to do, Mal?” Peggy asked.
“I think the best one,” he replied, “would be Act Two, Scene Three. The second-act curtain is really powerful, and besides, it’s Paula Andrews’ best scene. Not only that, but it brings most of the main characters together at a time of crisis, when they can be understood without having seen the rest of the play.”
“Most of the characters except me,” Peggy said. “Couldn’t you have chosen something where I’m on stage?”