SCENE: _same as in Act I._
_Enter MR. SMAILEY and SERVANT._
_Mr. S._ (_very gently_). Will you have the goodness to tell Mrs. Van
Brugh that Mr. Smailey is here to see her, by appointment?
_Serv._ Mr. Smailey, sir? Yes, sir. (_Going._)
_Enter MR. FITZ PARTINGTON._
_Fitz._ (_stopping SERVANT_). _And_ his solicitor.
_Mr. S._ (_with mild sternness_). You have followed me again, sir?
_Fitz._ Followed you again, sir; according to contract.
_Mr. S._ There is no contract between us that entitles you to dog my
footsteps as though you were hunting down a thief.
_Fitz._ Hunting down a thief? Oh, yes. To enable me to assist you in
blighting the character of the best and loveliest woman that ever shed
a light upon a private detective’s thorny path, I am to have the free
run of your house and papers; I am to accompany you wherever you go,
and you are to introduce me everywhere as your solicitor.
_Mr. S._ Sir, you are not in the least like a solicitor. You are a
ridiculously dressed person. You are like nothing in the world but
what you are--a private detective. I desire to press hardly on no
fellow-creature, but you are a spy! that base and utterably abject
thing--a spy!
_Fitz._ Mr. Smailey, when you complain that you find my society
irksome, you have my profoundest sympathy; I find it so myself. When
you revile my profession, my sentiments are entirely in accord, for I
have the very poorest opinion of it. But when you imply that I don’t
look the character I undertake to represent, why _then_, sir, you
touch the private detective on the most sensitive part of his moral
anatomy. I’m not a blameless character, but if I undertook to personate
the Archbishop of Canterbury I believe I should look the part, and my
conversation would be found to be in keeping with the character.
_Mr. S._ Pray, silence; oh, pray, pray, silence. You shock me
inexpressibly. It is most painful to me to have to resort to your
assistance. My son, my dear son, has engaged himself to marry Mrs.
Van Brugh’s daughter. I have lately had reason to believe that there
is something discreditable in Mrs. Van Brugh’s marriage relations,
though I do not know its precise nature. You tell me that you have a
certain clew to this flaw, though you decline to tell me what it is
until your proofs are matured. Well, sir, the Smaileys are a very old
and very famous family. Caius Smaileius came over with Julius Cæsar;
his descendants have borne an untarnished scutcheon for eighteen
hundred years. In its interest I am bound to employ you, and upon your
own most exacting terms, though I can not think of your contemptible
calling without a feeling of the most profound abhorrence.
_Fitz._ Sir, I am heartily ashamed of it.
_Mr. S._ You are a professional impostor; a hired lie.
_Fitz._ It is too true. I not only lie myself, but I am the cause of
lying in others.
_Mr. S._ For the lies that have to be told in accounting for you I
hold you entirely responsible. I wish that to be understood. I wash my
hands of them altogether, and, when I think of the deep, deliberate,
and utterly indefensible falsehoods that I have had to utter on your
behalf, I tremble for your future--I tremble for your future.
_Fitz._ Unselfish man.
_Mr. S._ As for the preposterous terms you have dictated----
_Fitz._ Terms! I have insured to myself the unbroken enjoyment of
your desirable society for six weeks, and believe me, when I say that
if I had been acquainted with the inexpressible charms of the most
fascinating woman that ever shed a light upon the private detective’s
thorny path, I wouldn’t have undertaken the job, no, not even for a
lifetime of your society!
_Enter MRS. VAN BRUGH._
_Mrs. V. B._ Good morning, Mr. Smailey. I am sorry to have kept you
waiting. (_Aside_) That absurd little man with him again. (_Aloud_)
Good morning, Mr.----
_Fitz._ Fitz Partington.
_Mrs. V. B._ Fitz Partington, of course.
_Fitz._ (_aside_). She might remember _my_ name. I can’t conceive any
circumstances under which I could forget _hers_!
_Mr. S._ Mr. Fitz Partington is entirely in my confidence. I brought
him, because I believed that his familiarity with legal forms might
assist us in our interview. You can speak without reserve before Mr.
Fitz Partington. (_Aside to FITZ._) A lie, sir! Another lie, from first
to last!
_Mrs. V. B._ I suppose the facts will come before Mr. Fitz Partington
when they are decided on. The steps by which they are arrived at will
only bore him. I’m sure Mr. Partington won’t be angry with me, when
I ask him to amuse himself in the next room until preliminaries are
arranged.
_Fitz._ Mrs. Van Brugh, I have made it a part of my moral code to step
without hesitation into any apartment you may think fit to indicate.
[_Exit._
_Mrs. V. B._ Now, Mr. Smailey, about these settlements. I will tell
you at once what I propose to do. My income is, as you know, a very
large one--much larger than any one would suppose who judges from the
quietness of my mode of life. I am an odd woman, and I spend my money
in my own way. I have very many claims upon it, and, although I wish
to deal handsomely with my darling Eve, I must not disappoint those
who have counted upon me for some years past. To come to the point, I
propose to settle my Buckinghamshire farm upon her, on the usual terms
of a marriage settlement. I don’t know the technical expression--but on
the usual terms.
_Mr. S._ The Buckinghamshire farm, yes. Thank you. I forget whether
that is the leasehold or the freehold farm, for you have two.
_Mrs. V. B._ You mustn’t ask me. Your solicitor knows. It’s worth £500
a year, and that, I suppose, is the main point.
_Mr. S._ Not altogether; the difference in value may be prodigious.
Have you a copy of the will?
_Mrs. V. B._ No. I never saw the will.
_Mr. S._ Never saw the will? I think I have a copy of it at home--with
your permission, I will go and fetch it, and the matter can be decided
at once.
_Mrs. V. B._ Do, by all means. I only know that my property is all
my own, and that I can do what I like with it; and I assure you, Mr.
Smailey, I avail myself of the privilege.
_Mr. S._ You do indeed. And that reminds me, Mrs. Van Brugh, that I
am anxious to speak to you on another topic--a topic of a singularly
painful character. I will endeavor, Mrs. Van Brugh, to approach it as
delicately as possible.
_Mrs. V. B._ Indeed! (_Alarmed._) You rouse my curiosity, Mr. Smailey.
Does it--does it refer in any way to myself?
_Mr. S._ Directly to yourself.
_Mrs. V. B._ (_much alarmed_). May I ask in what way?
_Mr. S._ As I said before, it is a most difficult subject to approach,
and I would willingly spare you. Give me a moment to think how I can
best put it to you.
_Mrs. V. B._ Pray have no hesitation in telling me what it is. (_With
half-disguised emotion._) Does it--does it refer in any way to my--to
my past life, for instance? (_With affected cheerfulness._)
_Mr. S._ It does refer to incidents in your past life. To many
incidents in general, and to one incident in particular.
_Mrs. V. B._ For Heaven’s sake, sir, be explicit. Speak out, I implore
you. (_With suppressed agitation._)
_Mr. S._ You seem strangely agitated, Mrs. Van Brugh.
_Mrs. V. B._ No, no; I am ill and nervous to-day. Your manner is rather
alarming. (_With affected cheerfulness._) You know I’m a very bad hand
at guessing riddles, Mr. Smailey. Come, what is it? I give it up. (_He
hesitates._) Why have you any hesitation in telling me?
_Mr. S._ Because it involves a particularly delicate moral point. (_She
is much agitated._) God bless me, you seem very much alarmed.
_Mrs. V. B._ (_with determination_). Mr. Smailey, once and for all, I
insist upon knowing what it is.
_Mr. S._ Well, then, to be quite plain with you, it is currently
reported in the village that you have taken a miserable woman from the
streets and established her in the character of a respectable workwoman
within a hundred yards of this spot. (_MRS. VAN BRUGH, whose agitation
and alarm have been intense, is greatly relieved._) Moreover, I have
been informed that you have, for some years past, been in the habit of
searching out women of bad character who profess penitence, with the
view of enabling them to earn their living in the society of blameless
Christians.
_Mrs. V. B._ I have.
_Mr. S._ I tell you at once that I am loath to believe this thing.
_Mrs. V. B._ (_with indignant surprise_). Why are you loath to believe
this thing?
_Mr. S._ Why? (_Rises._) Because its audacity, its want of principle,
and, above all, its unspeakable indelicacy, shock me beyond the power
of expression.
_Mrs. V. B._ Mr. Smailey, is it possible that you are speaking
deliberately? Think of any blameless woman whom you love and honor,
and who is loved and honored of all. Think of the shivering outcast
whose presence is contamination, whose touch is horror unspeakable,
whose very existence is an unholy stain on God’s earth. Woman--loved,
honored, courted by all. Woman--shunned, loathed, and unutterably
despised, but still--Woman. I do not plead for those whose advantages
of example and education render their fall ten thousand times
more culpable. Let others speak for such as they. (_With a broken
voice._)--It may be that something is to be said, even for them.
I plead for those who have had the world against them from the
first--who with blunted weapons and untutored hands have fought society
single-handed, and fallen in the unequal fight. God help them!
_Mr. S._ Mrs. Van Brugh, I have no desire to press hardly on any
fellow-creature, but society, the grand arbiter in these matters, has
decided that a woman who has once forfeited her moral position shall
never regain it.
_Mrs. V. B._ Even though her repentance be sincere and beyond doubt?
_Mr. S._ Even so.
_Mrs. V. B._ Even though she fell unprotected, unadvised, perishing
with want and chilled with despair?
_Mr. S._ Even so. For such a woman there is no excuse--for such a woman
there is no pardon.
_Mrs. V. B._ You mean no pardon on earth?
_Mr. S._ Of course I mean no pardon on earth. What can I have to do
with pardon elsewhere?
_Mrs. V. B._ Nothing. Mr. Smailey, when you have procured the will, I
shall be ready to see you; but before you go let me tell you that I
am inexpressibly shocked and pained at the terrible theory you have
advanced. (_He endeavors to speak._) Oh, understand me, I do not charge
you with exceptional heartlessness. You represent the opinions of
society, and society is fortunate in its mouthpiece. Heaven teaches
that there is a pardon for every penitent. Earth teaches that there is
one sin for which there is no pardon--when the sinner is a woman!
(_RUTH has entered. She is quietly and decently dressed, and carries
a parcel of needlework in her hand._)
_Mr. S._ (_aside_). Mrs. Van Brugh, pray be quiet; we are observed.
_Mrs. V. B._ By the subject of our conversation. [_Exit MRS. VAN BRUGH._
_Ruth._ I beg pardon--I thought the lady was alone. (_Going._)
_Mr. S._ Stop, woman. (_She turns and advances._) Don’t--don’t approach
me--we have nothing in common. Listen at a distance. Mrs. Van Brugh has
thought proper to place you on a pedestal that levels you, socially,
with respectable Christians. In so doing, I consider that she has
insulted respectable Christians. She thinks proper to suffer you to
enter _my_ presence. In so doing I consider that she has insulted _me_.
I desire you to understand that when a woman of your stamp enters the
presence of a Christian gentleman, she----
_Ruth._ (_who has been looking at him in wonder during this speech_).
Smailey! That’s never _you_! (_MR. S. falls back in his chair._)
_Ruth._ Ay, Smailey, it’s Ruth Tredgett.
_Mr. S._ (_very confused_). I did not know whom I was speaking to.
_Ruth._ But you knowed _what_ you was speakin’ to, Jonas Smailey. Go
on. I’m kinder curous to hear what _you’ve_ got to say about a woman
o’ my stamp. I’m kinder curous to hear wot Jonas Smailey’s got to say
about his own work.
_Mr. S._ We meet in a strange way after so many years.
_Ruth._ Yes; we do meet in a strange way. Seems to me it’s suthin’ of a
topsy-turvy way. But it’s a topsy-turvy world, ain’t it?
_Mr. S._ (_recovering himself with bland dignity_). I have no desire to
press hardly on any fellow-creature----
_Ruth._ (_quietly_). Come, that’s kind, anyhow.
_Mr. S._ Perhaps, after all, you were not entirely to blame.
_Ruth._ Well, p’raps not.
_Mr. S._ Perhaps I myself was not altogether without reproach in the
matter. But in my case allowance should, in common charity, be made
for follies that arise from extreme youth and--and inexperience. I was
barely forty then.
_Ruth._ And I was just sixteen. Well, I forgive you, along o’ your
youth, as I hope to be forgiven along o’ my childhood.
_Mr. S._ (_rises_). The tone you adopt is in the worst possible taste.
The misguided lady who has taken upon herself, most wickedly, to foist
you upon society, has committed a fraud, which----
_Ruth._ Stop _there_, Smailey! You’re getting on dangerous ground. Best
leave that lady alone. She’s a bit chipped off heaven--she’s good right
through. She’s--she’s--I’m slow at findin’ words that mean goodness. My
words run mostly the other way, wus luck. If I had to tell o’ _you_,
Smailey, they’d come handy and strong. I can’t find words that mean
_her_!
_Mr. S._ I have no wish to be hard on you, but it _is_ a fraud, and----
_Ruth._ Fraud? Fraud’s a bad word to come from _you_, Smailey. I’d ha’
thought you’d ha’ fought shy o’ that word, for the rest o’ your days.
_Mr. S._ (_taken aback_). I don’t know what you refer to.
_Ruth._ I’m referrin’ to Martha Vane of Melbourne. What, yer recklect
Martha Vane, do yer?
_Mr. S._ Martha Vane! Yes, I remember Vane. Pooh! There is nothing to
connect me with that matter.
_Ruth._ Nothing? I’ve writin’ of yours which is fourteen year, if it’s
a day.
_Mr. S._ And do you mean to say that you would be guilty of such
inhumanity--such devilish inhumanity (I use the word “devilish” in its
religious sense) as to bring up an act of youthful folly--guilt if
you will--against me now that I have achieved wealth, reputation, and
social position?
_Ruth._ No, you’re safe, Smailey. Bring it up agin yer now? Why, you
may have repented, who knows? You was a bad lot, sure enough, but
that’s twenty years agone, and you may ha’ repented.
_Mr. S._ I have; I’m an altered person--I--I--will make it well worth
your while to give me up that writing you refer to. I will pay you very
handsomely for it.
_Ruth._ Pay! no; I ain’t on that lay. I’m square now. I’m a ’spectable
woman. I only takes money wot I earns. It comes slow, but it comes
comfortable.
_Mr. S._ Your sentiments do you credit. I confess I did not look for
such delicacy of feeling in you; it exalts one’s idea of human nature.
I am thankful for any thing that exalts one’s idea of human nature.
Thank you, Tredgett. Give me these papers.
_Ruth._ No; I’m ’spectable, but I ain’t a fool. I’ll keep ’em, case I
want ’em.
_Mr. S._ As you please. Remember, Tredgett, I am a person of influence
here, and a county magistrate----
_Ruth._ What, d’you sit at quarter sessions?
_Mr. S._ Certainly.
_Ruth._ And sentence poor prigs?
_Mr. S._ Yes. Why do you ask?
_Ruth._ Nothing; go on--it’s all topsy-turvy!
_Mr. S._ I shall be happy if I can serve you in any way. I shall
always be glad to hear that you are doing well, and I feel certain
that the admirable lady who has so kindly taken you in hand will have
no reason to regret her charity. It is easy to fall, and hard to
rise again--Heaven bless those who extend a helping hand. I am very
glad indeed that we have met. I’ve no wish to press hardly on any
fellow-creature. [_Exit._
_Ruth._ Jonas Smailey! Smailey here! Things come about queerly. I seed
him last at t’other end o’ the world, and to meet him here! Who’s that?
(_FITZ PARTINGTON has entered unobserved on tiptoe, and tapped her on
the shoulder._)
_Fitz._ Come here. (_Taking out note-book._) Your name’s Ruth Tredgett?
_Ruth._ (_surprised_). Ay.
_Fitz._ What are you?
_Ruth._ A ’spectable woman. Wot are _you_?
_Fitz._ A detective.
_Ruth._ (_falling back horrified_). Wot’s it for?
_Fitz._ Nothing. _You_ ain’t wanted, but your address is.
_Ruth._ I’m living at Barker’s in the village.
_Fitz._ Present occupation?
_Ruth._ Needlewoman.
_Fitz._ Late occupation?
_Ruth._ Tramp. There’s nothin’ agin me?
_Fitz._ Nothing against you, every thing for you; even this half-crown.
_Ruth._ I don’t like p’leece money. I never took none yet, I ain’t a
goin’ to begin now. I wish yer good day. I don’t like p’leece money.
[_Exit._
_Fitz._ I’m not a policeman, I’m a private detective; but we won’t
split hairs. (_Pockets coin._) I thought Smailey was my man, now I’m
sure of it. Ha! ha! Now, Smailey has a game. The question is, what is
it? He says it’s his scutcheon, but that is Walker, because his father
was a wig-maker. However, it’s quite clear that, whatever his game may
be, it is my duty to put that inestimable woman on her guard.
_Enter MRS. VAN BRUGH._
_Mrs. V. B._ Has not Mr. Smailey returned?
_Fitz._ No, ma’am, he has not. (_He shows traces of emotion._)
_Mrs. V. B._ Mr. Fitz Partington, is any thing the matter?
_Fitz._ Ma’am, you have come upon me in a moment of professional
conscientiousness. Avail yourself of it, for such moments are rare and
fleeting. Beware of Smailey.
_Mrs. V. B._ What in the world do you mean?
_Fitz._ I mean that he is endeavoring to prove that--that you were not
legally married to Captain Van Brugh.
_Mrs. V. B._ (_intensely agitated_). Mr. Fitz Partington, you can not
be aware of the full import of your words. What can be Mr. Smailey’s
motive for making these preposterous inquiries?
_Fitz._ That’s just what I want to get at. In a general way it’s sure
to be something dirty. Perhaps he thinks that the property you inherit
from Captain Van Brugh isn’t legally yours, and, therefore, can’t be
settled by you on your daughter.
_Mrs. V. B._ But I inherited very little indeed from Captain Van Brugh.
The bulk of my property was left me by my godfather.
_Fitz._ Then I’m wrong. But does Smailey know this?
_Mrs. V. B._ Know it! Why, of course he knows it. He’s my godfather’s
nephew, and next-of-kin.
_Fitz._ What! His next-of-kin? Next-of-kin is a fruitful expression. I
see a whole plantation of motives cropping out of “next-of-kin.” Have
you a copy of the will?
_Mrs. V. B._ No. But Mr. Smailey has--indeed he has gone to fetch it.
_Fitz._ Can you tell me the terms of the legacy?
_Mrs. V. B._ No, not precisely. I have never seen the will. My
solicitor has told me its purport in general terms.
_Fitz._ Are you referred to in that will by your married or maiden name?
_Mrs. V. B._ Oh, by my maiden name.
_Fitz._ You are sure of that?
_Mrs. V. B._ Quite sure. At least, I _feel_ quite sure. I can’t be
absolutely certain, but--oh, yes; I am sure of it.
_Fitz._ What was the date of the will?
_Mrs. V. B._ 1856.
_Fitz._ What was the year of your marriage?
_Mrs. V. B._ (_after a pause_). 1856.
_Fitz._ My dear Mrs. Van Brugh, this is most important. The news
of your marriage might or might not have reached the testator in
Australia. If there is any flaw in your marriage, and if you are
described in that will as Captain Van Brugh’s wife, every penny you
possess will revert to Smailey. Now, Smailey is a scoundrel.
_Mrs. V. B._ Mr. Fitz Partington, pray explain yourself.
_Fitz._ In the full conviction that what I am going to say will be
treated as confidential, I _will_ explain myself. I’m after Smailey.
Smailey will soon be wanted.
_Mrs. V. B._ This is scarcely an explanation.
_Fitz._ Scarcely an explanation. Twenty years ago, when in Australia,
Smailey forged a burial-certificate to get some trust-funds into his
possession. The job was given to our house to investigate, only six
weeks ago. Two days after, who should come to us for a detective to
inquire into your affairs but Smailey, so we put the two jobs together,
and I’m doing ’em both.
_Mrs. V. B._ But how is it that a gentleman in your profession----
_Fitz._ A gentleman! Mrs. Van Brugh, for reasons that will go down with
me to the tomb, I am humbly and hopelessly anxious to stand high in
your good opinion. Appreciate my disinterestedness, when I voluntarily
tell you that which will blight me in your estimation for ever. You
think I’m an eminent solicitor. I ain’t; I’m the insignificant minion
of a Private Inquiry Office.
_Mrs. V. B._ But you were introduced to me as a solicitor.
_Fitz._ It is a tantalizing feature of my contemptible calling, that I
am continually being introduced as somebody I should particularly like
to be. In the course of the last twelve months, I’ve been a Spanish
Hidalgo, a Colonel of Hussars, an Ashantee Nobleman, and a Bishop of
the Greek Church. What was the date of your marriage?
_Mrs. V. B._ Some time in February, ’56 (_with hesitation_).
_Fitz._ Day?
_Mrs. V. B._ The--the 30th.
_Fitz._ The 30th? Try again. Never more than twenty-nine days in
February--seldom that.
_Mrs. V. B._ I forget the exact date.
_Fitz._ Where were you married, and by whom?
_Mrs. V. B._ By--by (_after some hesitation_)--Sir, by your own
admission you are a mere spy. How am I to know that you are not asking
these questions with a view to using them against me?
_Fitz._ (_much hurt_). Ma’am, may you never know the depth of the wound
you have inflicted. It will canker, ma’am, but don’t be alarmed, it
shall not inconvenience you, for I will remove it from your sight.
When we meet again, you will find me in the assumed character of a
person who has not had his best feelings harrowed up for a considerable
time. It will be a difficult assumption, ma’am, but I will do my best
to sustain the fiction. [_Exit._
_Mrs. V. B._ At last! at last my punishment is at hand. And Eve--great
heavens, what will become of _her_? Eve--who loves and honors me--Eve,
my child! I mustn’t think of that. It will madden me. I shall want all
my head for what is to come! If news of this--marriage of mine (_with
a bitter laugh_) had reached my godfather, he would have described me
in his will as Captain Van Brugh’s wife, and then I am lost, and Eve is
lost. Oh, why don’t that man come. This suspense is terrible. At last!
He’s here!
_Enter EVE and FRED with DR. ATHELNEY._
_Eve._ Mr. Smailey has returned with the will. Frederick has been
explaining to me the difference between freehold and leasehold, and you
don’t know how anxious I am to know which it is.
_Fred._ Eve, Eve, this is very mercenary.
_Enter SMAILEY._
_Mr. S._ Mrs. Van Brugh, I am most happy to tell you that it is every
thing that could be wished. My dear Mrs. Van Brugh, the Buckinghamshire
farm is freehold. Here is the clause which refers to it: (_Reads very
deliberately._) After giving you Westland Park, the Blackfriars
estate, and the two reversions, the testator goes on to say, “And I
further will and bequeathe all that messuage known as Goldacre Farm,
together with all out-houses, ways, watercourses, trees, commonable
rights, easements and appurtenances, and all the estate and rights of
the said Richard Goldacre in and to the same, unto and to the use of
the said Catherine Ellen, wife of Richard Van Brugh, Esq., a captain in
the Royal Navy, her heirs and assigns forever.”
(_MRS. VAN BRUGH falls senseless into a chair, her daughter bending
over her._)