‘Jesus God Almighty,’ said Liam Devlin, eyeing Quondam’s projector for the running of Alraune. ‘Are you sure you actually need electricity to power that thing? If you told me it relied on the magic lantern principle, it wouldn’t be a surprise.’
Devlin had arrived late for the viewing, which Edmund thought just went to show what kind of feckless person he was; his black hair looked more than ever as if it needed combing, never mind cutting, and he was wearing cord trousers, a ramshackle pullover and a long raincoat that looked as if it had been dragged on in the dark. It was annoying to see Michael Sallis shake hands with him in a very friendly way – from what Edmund remembered of Sallis at Deborah Fane’s funeral, he could not have very much in common with the disreputable Devlin. He noticed, as well, that the females present all sat up a little straighter at Devlin’s entrance – including Lucy. This annoyed Edmund so much that he pointed out with some acerbity that Devlin’s arrival was a good twenty minutes after the arranged time.
‘Yes, I’m late,’ agreed Liam. ‘And I’m sorry for it, what with punctuality supposedly being the politeness of kings, although I shouldn’t think the particular king who said that had ever tried getting across London on a Saturday afternoon – it’s nearly as treacherous as negotiating the waters of the Styx, in fact the Styx would be preferable because you could bribe the ferryman to queue-jump—Will I sit down now I am here?’
‘Sit where you like,’ said Inspector Fletcher, and Liam considered the room for a moment and then took a seat next to Lucy.
‘You’re the wicked baroness’s granddaughter,’ he said, which Edmund felt to be an ill-chosen remark but which Lucy did not seem to mind. ‘So if this film is very high-brow and esoteric you can explain it to me as we go along. I’ve never actually seen Lucretia von Wolff on film, in fact I’ve never seen a silent film at all now I come to think about it. Although I have,’ he added unexpectedly, ‘heard Conrad Kline’s music somewhere or other, and it’s extraordinarily good.’ He regarded Lucy for a moment, and then said, ‘He would be your grandfather?’
‘It was never proved, but we’re pretty sure he was,’ said Lucy tranquilly, and Edmund sucked his teeth at the indelicacy of this. She glanced at the inspector. ‘I’ve got the backing music Conrad wrote for Alraune. It’s an old vinyl recording and it’ll be pretty scratchy because it’s nearly as old as the film – it was recorded quite soon after the premiere – but I’ve played it and it’s reasonable. I know you said it wasn’t vital to have it, but since it was available I thought I’d bring it. We can put it on the turntable when the film starts and with a bit of luck it’ll be in sync with the action.’
‘I’d like to hear it,’ said Liam at once. ‘If Inspector Fletcher doesn’t mind.’
‘So would I.’ This was Michael Sallis.
‘By all means let’s have it,’ said Fletcher, and nodded to the projectionist, who had been earnestly explaining to Sergeant Trendle about intermittent motion and toothed sprockets and escapements.
The lights were turned down, although it was not as dark as a conventional cinema would be – Edmund presumed this was because Quondam’s staff would need to make notes when they watched a film in here. A rather sparse set-up it was though; just a few chairs grouped around a couple of tables, although one of the tables had a computer terminal on it. There were no windows, of course, and the screen took up three-quarters of the far wall. Still, Lucy had arranged for a pot of coffee and a pot of tea to be brought in, which Edmund supposed was something.