As Time Goes By by Michael Walsh Page A

eighteenth-century dress were, in fact, portraits of Garrick himself in his various theatri cal roles. There was the great man as King Lear, striking a suitably worried pose; as a fearful, black-robed Hamlet; as a dagger-drawn Macbeth.
    Rick was still educating himself in the history of En glish theater when he became aware of a man standing beside him. "Damned if he ain't the spitting image of my mother-in-law!" exclaimed the man. "Especially with that dagger in his hand."
    "Mr. Lumley, I presume," Rick said, jumping to his feet. He had no clear idea what to call him. What if, in private life, he was Lord Somebody, as every third upper-crust Englishman seemed to be?
    "No presumption at all, sir," remarked the man. "Reginald Lumley at your service, Mr. Blaine."
    They shook hands. Rick liked him immediately, and liked him even better when, moments later, his host waved his hand in the air and Blackwell materialized with two drinks.
    "I do hope you have a taste for Scotch whiskey at this hour," said Lumley, raising his glass.
    "It's after noon, isn't it?" replied Rick, savoring the warmth of the amber liquid as it slid down his throat. It wasn't Kentucky bourbon, but it would do nicely. One thing you could say about the British weather: it always called for a stiff drink.
    The pair drained their glasses more or less simultaneously. "Damned fine stuff, that!" said Lumley. "Blackwell, would you be so kind?"
    "Very good, sir," said Blackwell, and toddled off.
    Rick sized up his companion. Lumley was a short, slight man with dark wavy hair that splashed across his forehead. He was wearing a well-cut blue suit, a starched white shirt, and a floral tie. He looked like a banker who was considering you for a loan and hadn't made up his mind yet.
    "Mr. Horowitz sends his compliments . . . ," Rick began.
    "Beastly business last night, what?" interjected Lumley. "Pity I'm not over there this go-round. Show the damned Jerrys a thing or two, I daresay. Eh?" In one smooth motion he scooped up his drink at the same instant Blackwell laid it down. "Ever catch a whiff of the grapeshot yourself, Blaine?" he asked.
    "Can't say that I have," replied Rick. "Except from the critics."
    Lumley chuckled. "Know what you mean, sir, know what you mean. Myself, I took a swing or two at brother Boche in France back in eighteen, and I daresay I sent more than a few of the damned Kameraden to hell." He tossed back his drink and swallowed half of it. "Wouldn't mind adding a few more to the tally. Wouldn't mind it at all."
    Lumley produced Rick's card and peered at it. "Sol omon Horowitz, eh?" he said. "Mr. Horowitz would be a Jewish fellow, I should expect. I gather, half the people in New York are Jewish these days."
    "The trick is telling which half," said Rick.
    "Lucky for you they're not Irish," said Lumley. "Neutral, in a war like this one! Can you believe it?"
    "After all you've done for them, too," said Rick.
    Lumley perked up. "Who needs them?" he asked brightly. "Not with you Yanks in the fray. Damned glad to have you aboard."
    "Mr. Horowitz ...," Rick prompted.
    "Ah, yes, Horowitz. Never met the man. But that's not the name you want to talk about, is it, Mr. Blaine?"
    On the back of his phony business card, Rick had written a series of names: Polly Nevins. Victor Laszlo. Ilsa Lund. Reinhard Heydrich. At least one of them seemed to have gotten results.
    "I'm particularly interested in Miss Nevins— professionally speaking," Rick ventured, continuing the game. "I gamer that her performance as Gwendo lyn is the talk of the town. My employer would be greatly interested in having her star in one of his own productions—when the war is over, of course, and once it is safe to travel."
    "Yes, Miss Nevins," Lumley said. "A woman of whom one can truly say not so much that her beauty becomes her as that she elevates the very notion of beauty. Especially on the stage, where she is quite the loveliest creature one has ever had the pleasure to be hold." He took a