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Updated: September 26, 2025
And Crayford's verdict on Charmian was, "She's a wonderful little lady. I know her, and I say she's a peach. Heath did the cleverest thing he ever did in his life when he married her." Charmian really had influence with Crayford, and she used it, revelling in a sense of her power and importance. He consulted her about many points in the performance.
Every afternoon I expect there's a breeze from the sea. I know we could stand it. It's only April now. That would mean four solid months of steady work. But then?" "I'd bring Crayford over." "Would he come?" "I'd make him." "But we might " "No, Mrs. Charmian. He ought to hear it in Mustapha. I know him. He's a hard business man. But he's awfully susceptible too.
She felt that her face grew hot, though she was alone, and she had spoken the name to herself, for herself. "I'm out here on the terrace!" She felt astonished, guilty. She had thought that he would only come when she summoned him, perhaps to-morrow, that he would learn by telegram of the arrival of Crayford and Alston. Now she would have to tell him.
Wardour had replaced an officer whom accident had disabled from accompanying the party of relief, and Wardour and Frank were missing together. Clara looked at Mrs. Crayford. "You hear?" she said. "It is you who are mistaken, not I. What you call 'Accident, what I call 'Fate, brought Richard Wardour and Frank together as members of the same Expedition, after all."
They fell into a long discussion on opera prospects, during which Alston Lake succeeded in giving Crayford an impression that there might be some secret in connection with Claude Heath's opera. This set the impresario bristling. He was like a terrier at the opening of a rat-hole. Charmian's little dinner that night was perfect. Crayford fell into a seraphic mood.
Nobody likes him there must be some reason for that." "There is only one reason for it," Crayford rejoined. "Nobody understands Richard Wardour. I am not talking at random. Remember, I sailed from England with him in the Wanderer; and I was only transferred to the Sea-mew long after we were locked up in the ice.
"I am quite satisfied with your opinion," Mrs. Crayford replied. "For God's sake, tell me, what can we do?" "We can try a complete change," said the doctor. "We can remove her at once from this place." "She will refuse to leave it," Mrs. Crayford rejoined. "I have more than once proposed a change to her and she always says No." The doctor paused for a moment, like a man collecting his thoughts.
"Making some cuts," said Crayford. "The stage shows things up. There are bits in that act that have got to come out. But it's a bully act and will go down as easily as a Hullo, Jimber! Sure you've got your motors right for the locust scene?" He escaped. "Mr. Mulworth!" cried Charmian, seeing the producer rushing toward the wings, with the perspiration pouring over his now haggard features.
It had seemed inevitable. The hour was propitious. They were all "worked up." The night, perhaps, played upon them after "La Grande Jeanne" had done her part. Crayford was obviously in his softest, most receptive mood. Alston was expansive, was in a gloriously hopeful condition. The opera was mentioned again. By whom? Surely by the hour or the night! It had to be mentioned, and inevitably was.
Saying those words, he threw down the empty box, and seated himself on the nearest chest, without looking to see how the dice had fallen. Crayford examined them. "Six!" he exclaimed. "There! you have a second chance, in spite of yourself. You are neither under nor over you throw again." "Bah!" growled the Bear. "It's not worth the trouble of getting up for. Somebody else throw for me."
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