9. The Confession of Barrymore Yorick
"Sara Hull, I have a confession to make -- to the press." Barrymore Yorick's white head was held high. "This morning's paper says that Edmond Edgerton is near death at the Old Actors' Home. Before he dies, I must clear his name -- and only I can do so."
Sara looked puzzled. "Edmond Edgerton -- the silent film star?" she said. "He was accused of murdering his wife, wasn't he? But he was acquitted, as I remember. I don't understand."
"How could you?" Yorick made a dramatic gesture. "Let me speak. Then you will understand. And, I trust, help me to purge my conscience.
"In 1920 Babette Lamere was the most beautiful and adored actress of the silver screen. Edward Edgerton was her husband, her great romance--but not her equal in fame. One dawn, after a night of partying alone, Edgerton returned to the London hotel suite he shared with his wife, and found her -- he said -- strangled with a scarf. No one had seen an intruder. There was no sign of robbery or forced entry. Edgerton himself was accused and tried. Professional jealousy, the prosecutor cried. But evidence was too slight. He was acquitted, as you say. But not by the public who had loved Babette. His career waned, and now he is dying, old, poor, still in the shadow of doubt and disgrace.
"I could lift it. I could, perhaps, have saved him from it. You see, in 1920 -- more than fifty years ago -- I was an aspiring but impoverished young actor in London. On the afternoon of the murder I was walking in a little park near the Edgertons' hotel, looking up at the windows, wishing I might meet them in the flesh -- I had seen them only on the screen. Suddenly, from an isolated bench, I heard a woman's voice -- a voice I knew, the unmistakable, gentle, lisping, innocent voice of a thousand roles -- the famous voice of Babette Lamere. And it was pleading, 'No, no, spare my marriage, my dearest husband -- spare my career. I will pay you what you ask.' A course, rough, unfamiliar male voice replied, 'That's sensible of you. I'll come to your hotel room tonight at about eleven. Get rid of Eddie -- tell him you've got a headache -- he can go out alone. And remember -- if you don't fork over the full amount, I go to the papers with a bit of information, and the proof I won't give you without the money.'
"Miss Hull, I was thunderstruck. But what could I do? I watched the blackmailer leave the park from one direction, the lovely girl of my dreams walk slowly away in the other. That night I guess she thought better of buying whatever vileness he had to sell, and, in a rage, he strangled her. At least I could have told Scotland Yard that she was expecting someone that night so that suspicion would not have fallen upon poor Edgerton alone. But I was afraid for my own safety, if the evil blackmailer knew of my presence in the park. I remained silent. But now, long overdue though it is --"
"My Yorick, please," Sara Hull interrupted. "I know you'd like some publicity -- it might help get you a character part or two, or you might even be paid for this story now that film libraries are showing Babette Lamere films again. But your memory can't be as good as it was when you played Iago. You've forgotten something -- your story can't be true."
What did Yorick forget?
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