The Seven Dials Mystery by Agatha Christie

”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWell, I’m going to tell you about one of the dirtiest pieces of work imaginable. My God! the theatrical crowd. There’s a girl—a Yankee girl—a perfect stunner—”
    Bundle’s heart sank. The grievances of Bill’s lady friends were always interminable—they went on and on and there was no stemming them.
    â€œThis girl, Babe St. Maur her name is—”
    â€œI wonder how she got her name?” said Bundle sarcastically.
    Bill replied literally.
    â€œShe got it out of Who’s Who. Opened it and jabbed her finger down on a page without looking. Pretty nifty, eh? Her real name’s Goldschmidt or Abrameier—something quite impossible.”
    â€œOh, quite,” agreed Bundle.
    â€œWell, Babe St. Maur is pretty smart. And she’s got muscles. She was one of the eight girls who made the living bridge—”
    â€œBill,” said Bundle desperately. “I went to see Jimmy Thesiger yesterday morning.”
    â€œGood old Jimmy,” said Bill. “Well, as I was telling you, Babe’s pretty smart. You’ve got to be nowadays. She can put it over on most theatrical people. If you want to live, be high-handed, that’s what Babe says. And mind you, she’s the goods all right. She can act—it’s marvellous how that girl can act. She’d not much chance in ‘Damn Your Eyes’—just swamped in a pack of good-looking girls. I said why not try the legitimate stage—you know, Mrs. Tanqueray—that sort of stuff—but Babe just laughed—”
    â€œHave you seen Jimmy at all?”
    â€œSaw him this morning. Let me see, where was I? Oh, yes, I hadn’t got to the rumpus yet. And mind you it was jealousy—sheer, spiteful jealousy. The other girl wasn’t a patch on Babe for looks and she knew it. So she went behind her back—”
    Bundle resigned herself to the inevitable and heard the whole story of the unfortunate circumstances which had led up to Babe St. Maur’s summary disappearance from the cast of “Damn Your Eyes.” It took a long time. When Bill finally paused for breath and sympathy, Bundle said:
    â€œYou’re quite right, Bill, it’s a rotten shame. There must be a lot of jealousy about—”
    â€œThe whole theatrical world’s rotten with it.”
    â€œIt must be. Did Jimmy say anything to you about coming down to the Abbey next week?”
    For the first time, Bill gave his attention to what Bundle was saying.
    â€œHe was full of a long rigmarole he wanted me to stuff Codders with. About wanting to stand in the Conservative interest. But you know, Bundle, it’s too damned risky.”
    â€œStuff,” said Bundle. “If George does find him out, he won’t blame you. You’ll just have been taken in, that’s all.”
    â€œThat’s not it at all,” said Bill. “I mean it’s too damned risky for Jimmy. Before he knows where he is, he’ll be parked down somewhere like Tooting East, pledged to kiss babies and make speeches. You don’t know how thorough Codders is and how frightfully energetic.”
    â€œWell, we’ll have to risk that,” said Bundle. “Jimmy can take care of himself all right.”
    â€œYou don’t know Codders,” repeated Bill.
    â€œWho’s coming to this party, Bill? Is it anything very special?”
    â€œOnly the usual sort of muck. Mrs. Macatta for one.”
    â€œThe M.P.?”
    â€œYes, you know, always going off the deep end about Welfare and Pure Milk and Save the Children. Think of poor Jimmy being talked to by her.”
    â€œNever mind Jimmy. Go on telling me.”
    â€œThen there’s the Hungarian, what they call a Young Hungarian. Countess something unpronounceable. She’s all right.”
    He swallowed as though embarrassed, and Bundle observed that he was crumbling his bread