"Something nominal, say a further five hundred on
account of fees would satisfy us. I certainly think it would be better
to rebuild the Windsor, don't you, R. P.?"
"I do," agreed R. P. de Parys, cordially. "You see, Roly, our revue has
been written to fit the Windsor. It would be very difficult to alter it
for production at another theater. Yes, I feel sure that rebuilding the
Windsor would be your best course."
There was a pause.
"What do you think, Roly-poly?" asked Miss Verepoint, as Roland made no
sign.
"Nothing would delight me more than to rebuild the Windsor, or to take
another theater, or do anything else to oblige," he said, cheerfully.
"Unfortunately, I have no more money to burn."
It was as if a bomb had suddenly exploded in the room. A dreadful
silence fell upon his hearers. For the moment no one spoke. R. P. de
Parys woke with a start out of a beautiful dream of prawn curry and
Bromham Rhodes forgot that he had not tasted food for nearly two hours.
Miss Verepoint was the first to break the silence.
"Do you mean to say," she gasped, "that you didn't insure the place?"
Roland shook his head.
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