Free The Devil and His Boy by Anthony Horowitz Page A

cast.”
    “Oh.” Tom was disappointed.
    “Why do you want to be an actor anyway?” Shakespeare asked. “Have you acted before?”
    “No.”
    “But you’ve been to a play.”
    “Only once.” Suddenly Tom found himself telling Shakespeare about the play he had seen at the Red Lion. As he started to describe the plot, he saw Shakespeare smile and a moment later the playwright laughed and slapped him on the back. “There’s no need to tell me about the play,” he said. “It was
The Comedy of Errors
. I wrote it.”
    Tom gaped. “You’re a great writer,” he said.
    “No, no, no!” Shakespeare blushed. “I’m only just starting out really. But one day … who knows?”
    Despite his meeting with Shakespeare, Tom was feeling lost and dejected as he left the theatre. The visit had been a complete failure. There were no parts for him in the play. He had nowhere to go, no money and no possessions except the clothes he was wearing.
    He was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice someone slipping out of the theatre behind him. But as he walked down the road the man hurried after him and caught up.
    “Excuse me, young sir.” The speaker was short and very dark, with narrow, glinting eyes. He was quite bald, apart from two patches of black hair, one above each ear. He also had a moustache, the hairs curling round on each side of his nose. He was dressed exotically in a rich, multi-coloured tunic with a bright red sash across his chest and a matching red plume in his hat. His trousers were mauve, ballooning out above the knee where they were tied tightly with two black ribbons. His stockings were also red. His feet, which were extremely small, were encased in brightly polished black shoes. “I noticed you in the theatre just now,” the man went on. There was something foreign about him. Although his English was perfect, there was the trace of an accent, distant and unrecognizable. “You were hoping to perform in a play?”
    “Yes.” Tom kept on walking.
    The man hurried to keep up, almost dancing on his tiny feet. “Then permit me to introduce myself,” he said. “My name is Dr Mobius. You’ve heard of me? No? No matter…” He coughed delicately. “The truth is that I myself have a theatrical company.”
    That stopped Tom in his tracks. The man smiled at him. He was wearing some sort of perfume and smelled of flowers and musk. “We call ourselves the Garden Players.” He waved a set of fingers heavy with rings. “We have a play we wish to perform and I came to the Rose because I’m looking for a boy.”
    “What sort of play is it?” Tom’s mind was reeling and it was the first thing he could think to ask.
    Dr Mobius tweaked his moustache. “It’s a comedy,” he explained. “A very comical comedy in my opinion. But then, I wrote it. It’s called
The Devil and his Boy
. You see? I play the devil. But, due to an unfortunate accident, I find myself in need of a boy.”
    “And you think…?” Tom tried to make sense of his thoughts. “What makes you think I’d be right for the part?” he asked.
    Dr Mobius simpered. “I am intuitive,” he said. “That is, I am a very sensitive person. I can sense talent in a young man like yourself. The way you carry yourself. The way you speak. Of course…” He whipped out a handkerchief and brushed an imaginary tear from his eye, “…if you are not interested…”
    “I’m interested!” Tom exclaimed.
    “How interesting! Good!” Suddenly he was businesslike. “It will be three weeks’ work. We will pay you six shillings when the job is done. You will live with us, with the Garden Players, and you will receive all food and board.” He paused for breath. “What is your name?” he asked.
    “Tom. Tom Falconer.”
    “You are alone in London?”
    Tom was about to mention Moll, then thought better of it. She wasn’t part of this life. “Yes,” he said.
    “Then do we have a deal?”
    Tom hesitated for a moment. Somewhere, deep inside him, Tom