The Forbidden Territory Read Online Free Page A

conversation with his hostess.
    “Good party tonight, Miriam?” he asked her in his jerky way, with a wide smile.
    “I hope so, Simon dear,” she replied a little nervously. “I’ve taken an awful lot of trouble—but you never know what people will like—do you?”
    “Of course it will be a good party, Miriam,” he encouraged her, “Your parties always are good parties! Anyone special coming?”
    “We’ve got Gian Capello—he’s promised to play, and Madame Maliperi is going to sing; it’s a great help having Alec Wolff too, he’s really very clever at the piano; Jacobsays he’ll go a long way—and knowing him so well I can get him to play at any time.”
    “Of course you can—Alec’s a nice boy.”
    “I tell you who I have got here—” she went on hurriedly. “Madame Karkoff—you know, Valeria Petrovna Karkoff—from the Moscow Arts Theatre; she’s over here on a visit with Kommissar Leshkin. Jacob met them at the film studios at Elstree last week.”
    Simon’s quick eyes flickered about the wide hall; with sudden interest he asked: “Does she—er—speak English?”
    “Oh yes. Simon dear I do wish you’d look after her, will you? They don’t know anybody here. It would be an awful weight off my mind. Look! there she is—the dark-haired woman, in the yellow dress. She’s awfully good-looking I think—will you?”
    “Well—er—” He appeared to hesitate. “Taking on a bit of a handful, isn’t it?”
    “Oh, no, Simon. You get on so well with everybody. Of course,” she went on a little wistfully, “I do love giving parties, but you know what Jacob is—he just asks everybody that he can think of—and I have to do all the work. Do be a dear!”
    Simon allowed himself to be led over. “Oh, Madame Karkoff, I want you to meet my cousin, Mr. Aron.” Simon’s hostess smiled a little unhappily. “He’s awfully interested in the theatre.”
    “ ’Ow do you do, Mistaire Aron?” said Madame Karkoff, in a rich, deep, almost husky voice, as she lifted her fine chin and held out a long slender hand. “Come—sit ’ere by me.” With a quick gesture she made a pretence of drawing aside her dress.
    Simon accepted the invitation, and produced his cigarette-case. She took one with a giggle.
    “I ’ave been dying for a cigarette,” she confessed. “Ah, sank you.” Almost before the cigarette had reached her scarlet lips Simon’s other hand had left his pocket, and the patent lighter in it flickered into flame. It was a much-practised little trick of his.
    “So you are interested in the theatre, eh?” Sheregarded him curiously. “Tell me about the theatre, Mistaire Aron!”
    Simon leant forward and laughed his little nervous laugh into the palm of his hand. “ ’Fraid I can’t,” he chuckled. “Mind you, I’d love to be able to, but we haven’t got a theatre in England!”
    “Ah! So you know that, do you?” A gleam of appreciation showed in her large dark eyes.
    “Of course,” he nodded vigorously. “There is no theatre here in the sense that you know it; there are some people who try pretty hard, but they don’t get much encouragement—and they’ve got a lot to learn.”
    He studied her thoughtfully, marvelling at her dark beauty. The dead-white skin, the narrow arched eyebrows; the rather flat face with high cheek-bones, relieved by the sensual scarlet mouth and slumbrous dark eyes. No one would have thought of her as other than a woman, although she was actually little more than a girl. He put her down as about twenty-five.
    “You are Jewish—are you not?” she asked suddenly. He laughed jerkily again, as he ran his finger down his prominent nose. “Of course. I couldn’t hide this, could I? And as a matter of fact I’ve no wish to try.”
    She laughed delightedly, showing two rows of strong, white, even teeth. “I’ave of the Jewish blood myself,” she said then, serious again in a moment. “My grandmother—she was Jewish. It is good; there is no art