We must end by congratulating our former Housemaster, Mr. Smith, on his engagement, and wish him many years of happiness in the new post to which he is going at the beginning of next term.
THE SCHOOL PLAY. " The Crooked Billet " was given by the St. Peter's Players on Saturday and Monday, December 18th and 20th, 1937. For a cast of young actors without much experience it proved very suitable. The story of secret service men at grips with a gang of crooks gave scope for rapid and exciting action, repeated ups and downs of fortune and a succession of thrilling surprises. Such a play demands, above all, the quality of speed in the actors. They came through this test with flying colours. The action was never allowed to drag, the dialogue was kept crisp, and the complete absence of hitches and loose ends was proof of careful rehearsal and resourceful stage management. Another point where young actors often fail—and many older ones, too, on the modern stage—is audibility. One famous dramatic critic dips his pen in vitriol almost weekly to bewail the cult of the inaudible on the London stage. The modern actor, he says, thinks it a crime to be heard beyond the third row of stalls. And so it is pleasant to record that on this occasion most of the actors could be distinctly followed from the back row of the gallery : and this was particularly true of the character whose words it was most important to hear, Guy Merrow. And so to the individual performances. R. S. Dixon, as Guy Merrow, was entirely at ease, and gave a quiet, incisive, level-headed rendering of his lines, which 'impressed on the audience that here was the cool and efficient secret service man who could cope with any emergency. This quiet incisiveness was especially noticeable in Act I, and was there especially valuable, because it struck at once the note on which the character was to be played. Guy Merrow was well supported by Sir William Easton (J. M. Rucklidge) and his daughter, Joan (P. R. G. Graham), both of whom were the more effective because they spoke and moved with restraint. Joan, especially, never seemed to be speaking much above a whisper, yet every word told. As the " Doctor," the villain of the piece, P. B. Cockburn registered scorn, brutality and boastfulness with a gusto that carried conviction: a pleasing study in venom. J. C. Atkinson, as Philip Easton, looked 14
