Free Heaven and Hell by John Jakes

London engagement, in heavy weather, she slipped and fell into the sea and disappeared. Wood was the sole witness, although a cabin steward later testified that on the morning of the mishap, Helen Wood had bruises on
    "er cheek and arm, which she'd attempted to cover with powder. In other words, he beat her."
    "He can be such a charming man--" Willa's words trailed off lnto a sigh of self-recrimination.
    "How stupid I was to be taken in!"
    "Not at all. His charm fools a great many people." Booth patted r shoulder, then stood up. He wore black trousers and tiny slippers; s feet were smaller than hers. "You feel chilly. Let me bring you S°me cognac. I keep it, though I never touch it."
    46 HEAVEN AND HELL
    Nor did he take any other spirits, she knew. When Booth's wife, Mary, lay dying in 1863, he'd been too drunk to respond to pleas from friends that he go to her. That part of the past burdened him almost as much as the fatal night at Ford's Theater.
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    Willa stared at the rain while Booth poured cognac into a snifter and warmed it in his hands. "I'll slip out tomorrow and try to discover what Wood's doing now that you have eluded the police." He handed her the snifter. The cognac went down with pleasing warmth and quickly calmed her churning stomach. "Meanwhile, I wouldn't count on his letting matters rest. Among his other wonderful traits is his talent for being vindictive. He has many friends among the local managers. He'll keep you from working in New York, at the very least."
    Willa wiggled her bare toes. Her ankle hurt less now. In the fireplace, apple-wood logs crackled and filled the sitting room with a sweet aroma. While she sipped the cognac, Booth stared in melancholy fashion at a large framed photograph standing on a marble-topped table: three men wearing Roman togas. It was from the famous performance of November 1864, when he'd played Brutus to the Cassius and Antony of his brothers, Johnny and June, for one night.
    She set the snifter aside. "I can't go back to Arch Street, Eddie.
    Mrs. Drew has a full company. She replaced me as soon as I gave notice."
    "Louisa should have warned you about Wood."
    "She did, indirectly. I wasn't alert to what she was trying to say.
    I have a lot of faults, and one of the worst is thinking well of everyone.
    Like John Evelyn's knight, I am 'not a little given to romance.' It's a dangerous shortcoming."
    "No, no, a virtue. Never think otherwise." He patted her hand.
    "Supposing New York is closed to you, is there somewhere else you can work?"
    "Somewhere I can run to? Running is always the remedy that comes easiest to me. And I'm always sorry afterward. I hate cowardice."
    "Caution
    is not cowardice. I remind you again, this is something more than a schoolyard quarrel. Think a moment. Where can you go?"
    Forlorn, she shook her head. "There isn't a single--well, yes There's St. Louis. I have a standing offer from one of Papa's old col- I leagues. You know him. You and Papa trouped with him in Califor- I nia."
    "Sam Trump?" Finally Booth smiled. "America's Ace of Play'
    ers? I didn't know Sam was in St. Louis."
    "Yes, he's running his own theater, in competition with Dan DeBar- I He wrote me about it last Christmas. I gather things aren't going well Lost Causes 47
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    Booth walked to the windows. "His drinking, probably. It seems the curse of the profession." He turned. "St. Louis might be an
    {0 , sanctuary, though. It's quite far away, but it's a good show town.
    ' keen ever since Ludlow and Drake set up shop there in the twen You
    have the whole Mississippi valley for touring, and no cornting playhouses until you reach Salt Lake City. I liked playing St. Louis. So did my father."
    He stared out the dark window, smiling again. "Whenever he apneared there, he could always .save a few pennies by hiring bit players from the Thespians, a fine amateur company. Unfortunately, he just spent the pennies for one more bottle." He shook off the memory. "More to the point, Sam