  Katherine Nelson was as good as her word. In the hectic days that followed, she never spoke to Tom Agate unless it was absolutely necessary. Her manner was cold, aloof, and imperious. She listened to Craig Claiborne whenever he directed her, but seldom followed his advice. With the older members of the cast she was icily polite, a pose that was frequently shattered by violent outbursts of temper. As for Peggy, Katherine Nelson studiously ignored her. Peter Grey explained it by saying that the actress had discovered it was Peggy who was largely responsible for Tom’s presence in the cast. Actually, Peggy didn’t see much of Peter. Both he and Pam were too busy with the thousands of chores that go with sending a theatrical company on the road. The only other person in the company, aside from Pam, who was close to Peggy’s age was Marcy Hubbard, the girl playing the part of the young daughter. Marcy was a breath-takingly beautiful girl with a clever sense of timing and a pleasant, friendly, off stage manner, but Peggy never got to know her well. Marcy, very much in love and recently engaged, spent every available spare moment with her fiancÉ, a quiet young man who picked her up at the theater immediately after rehearsals. This left only Amy, May Berriman, and Randy Brewster to talk to. Not that they weren’t eager listeners. But because they never had a chance to see any of the rehearsals, Peggy was forced to go into great detail in order to answer their many questions. “You mean to say that she never speaks to him?” Amy asked one evening, during the second week of rehearsals. They were sitting in May Berriman’s private sitting room on the ground floor of the Gramercy Arms. Amy, Peggy, and Randy had all been to dinner together, and when they came back May had seen them and invited them in for coffee. “She hardly ever speaks to anyone,” Peggy said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” “Goodness,” Amy said wonderingly. “That must put a strain on things.” “You don’t know,” Peggy answered. “It’s as if we were rehearsing a play about the end of the world or something—not a romantic comedy that should be full of laughs.” “How do you get along with her?” “Me? Like everybody else. I’ve got one tiny scene in the first act. I come in with Marcy, who’s supposed to introduce me to her mother—that’s Katherine Nelson. We say a few words to each other and then I go out again.” “How does that go?” Randy asked, balancing his cup and saucer in one hand. “If I remember rightly you have one or two nice lines.” “I did have, you mean,” Peggy said moodily. “Katherine Nelson insisted on cutting them.” May Berriman arched her eyebrows. “How did she manage that?” “She said I wasn’t doing them right.” “Were you?” Peggy looked at them helplessly. “No,” she said, “I guess I wasn’t. But I don’t think anybody could,” she added stoutly. “You see, when I come on to meet the mother, Katherine Nelson doesn’t even look at me.” “Where does she look?” Amy demanded. Peggy touched her right ear. “She keeps staring at a spot just about here. Her face never changes expression, and her eyes look positively glassy. Now, how can you react to someone like that?” “It sounds as though she were some sort of mechanical doll,” Randy said. “That’s exactly it!” Peggy cried. “We’re all mechanical people. We go through the right motions and say the right words, but it’s all so stiff—without any life or warmth.” “Even Tom Agate?” May asked. Peggy’s face softened. “No,” she said quietly. “He’s wonderful. I don’t know how he does it. He’s the only one with any spark to his performance. It’s a joy to see him come out on stage.” She shook her head wonderingly. “I think that man could act with a stone statue.” In Oscar Stalkey’s office, two men were pacing back and forth restlessly. One of them was Stalkey himself, but then he always paced. The other was Craig Claiborne, who was usually relaxed and easygoing. The director threw out an impatient hand. “It just won’t work, Oscar!” he said. “I’ve tried everything, but that woman stiffens them all up like blocks of ice. She won’t do a thing I tell her, and as a result, this so-called comedy we’re about to take out on the road sounds like a dramatized version of an obituary column.” “Now, now,” Oscar Stalkey soothed. “It can’t be as bad as all that.” But his face looked drawn, worried. “Come on, Oscar,” Claiborne said. “You know it is.” Oscar Stalkey sighed heavily. “Maybe it’ll get better,” he said hopefully. “You know, with opening night and all, there’s bound to be some excitement.” The director shook his head with stark finality. “Opening night is just around the corner,” he said, “and they’re getting worse. Every last one of them. Except,” he added hastily, “Tom Agate. What a remarkable old man!” “Three weeks in Baltimore!” Peter looked up from the pile of papers on his desk and laughed bitterly. “We’ll be lucky to last three nights!” At the other end of the office Pam Mundy’s fingers kept up a steady tattoo over the keys of her typewriter. She didn’t bother to answer. She knew he was right. Oscar Stalkey didn’t quite know how to begin. He prowled uncertainly along the bookcases lining one side of his office, trying to keep his temper in check and his voice low. Sitting in the most comfortable chair in the room, Katherine Nelson watched him steadily and waited for him to speak. At last he asked the question that had been preying on his mind for the past two weeks. “Why?” he said simply. “Why are you doing this?” “Doing what?” Katherine Nelson inquired innocently. Stalkey gave an exasperated shake of his head. “You know perfectly well. The play’s going to pieces.” She crossed her legs and returned his pleading stare with a bland smile. “Are you suggesting it’s my fault?” she asked. “Of course I am!” the producer exploded. “Whose fault d’you think it is?” “Now that’s very interesting,” the actress said coolly. “Supposing we go over my so-called shortcomings. First of all, have I ever missed a rehearsal—or even been late for one?” “No,” Stalkey admitted uncomfortably. “But—” “Let me finish,” Katherine Nelson insisted. “There’s been no trouble with my lines. I know them perfectly. Now, I admit I’ve had some disagreements with Craig Claiborne. He’s wanted me to do some things I don’t like.” “And so you didn’t,” Stalkey concluded gloomily. “No, I didn’t,” Katherine Nelson said cheerfully. “But why should I follow his orders like a robot? After all, I’ve had thirty years of experience in the theater. I’m an established star. Surely I’ve got some right to express myself in my own way. Be reasonable, Oscar.” “Well, what about the other people in the cast? You treat them like dirt.” Katherine Nelson looked shocked. “I do not,” she declared. “I haven’t said a word to them.” “That’s the whole trouble. You completely ignore them.” The actress looked pained. She leaned forward in her chair and spoke intensely. “I’m a professional, Oscar. The theater is my business. I don’t go to rehearsals to socialize or have a good time. I’m there to work. And I expect others to do the same.” Oscar Stalkey threw up his hands. “Have it your own way, Katherine, but something’s all wrong. I know it and so do you. You’re not the only professional in the cast. Emily Burckhardt’s been in the theater as long as you have and she’s upset.” “Poor Emily,” Katherine Nelson said sweetly. “Her trouble is that she’s got to play so many scenes with that horrible man.” Stalkey glanced at her shrewdly. “Tom Agate?” Katherine Nelson didn’t answer. She smiled instead. “... Oh, it all sounds reasonable enough,” Stalkey said later that day. He and Craig Claiborne were having a conference after rehearsal. “She claims she has her own way of working, and that she’s building up to a performance. She’s terribly, terribly sorry that the others are having such a hard time, but it’s not her fault.” The producer’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. Craig Claiborne was more direct. He only said one word. “Nuts.” “I’ve seen it happen before,” May said thoughtfully. They were entering the third week of rehearsals, and Peggy had made it a habit to report to May every night. The older woman’s advice was usually sympathetic and helpful. “I can see her little game just as clearly as if it were written on the wall.” “But what is it?” Peggy asked. “I’ve never known anything like this before. Honestly, it’s gotten so I hate to go to rehearsals in the morning. The atmosphere in that theater is simply loaded with bitterness. Everybody’s on edge.” “Except Katherine Nelson. I bet she’s all sweetness and light.” Peggy looked at her in astonishment. “How did you know that?” May smiled. “I told you. I know what she’s up to. Look, Peggy, she wants to get rid of Tom Agate, and she doesn’t care whom she hurts in the process. She’s deliberately throwing everybody off balance by giving a technically perfect but cold performance. You just wait until opening night, though. Because of the way she’s been acting, everyone in the cast will have a terrible case of first-night jitters. But not our girl. Not Katherine Nelson. That night, she’ll open up and play the part with everything she’s got. The result?” May smiled bitterly. “She’ll be the heroine of the hour. Then she can go up to Oscar Stalkey and say, ‘See, I told you so. I was fine. It’s the others that are bad.’ And he’ll have to listen to her because she’ll be speaking from a position of strength.” “But what good will that do?” Peggy asked. “She’ll put on pressure to fire Tom Agate. And Oscar Stalkey will have to do it, too. Reluctantly, he’ll ask for Tom’s resignation.” “But Tom’s so good,” Peggy protested. “He’s the only one in the cast who isn’t being affected by her.” May shook her doubtfully. “He’s only human,” she said. “I’m afraid the strain is going to show.” May was right. Tom began to fall to pieces during the next rehearsal. Where he had once been alive and vital, he now read his lines unevenly, in a lackluster mumble. In the second act, he completely forgot one of his lines, and in the third act he forgot to come in on his entrance. That was when Craig Claiborne lost his temper and bawled him out in front of the other members of the cast. During the tirade, Peggy stole a glance at Katherine Nelson. The actress was standing perfectly still, an unholy gleam in her eyes. |
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