_The next morning. Thompson's office at the works. Doors l. and at the
extreme R.C. Opposite the door L. is a desk with revolving arm-chair.
Fireplace at the back centre, table against the wall by the fireplace.
A couple of revolving arm-chairs. Carpet on floor. Jabez believes in
working in comfort. Small hat-rack attached to wall by the door l.
Telephone receiver on the desk, speaking tube protruding from the wall
by the chair and handbell on desk, which is open. Clock on mantelpiece
points to 9.55._
Lomax _is an elderly man with iron-grey hair, cleanshaven, and has the
appearance, of a confidential head clerk or cashier, which in fact he
is. He arranges a few open letters on the desk and puts a paper weight
on them as Charlie enters l. bringing in Mrs. Wilcock, a careworn woman
of thirty, dressed in black with shabby skirt, heavy incongruous mantle
and beaded bonnet. A considerable nervousness is added to her distress._
Charlie. (_Sympathetically_) Come in here, Mrs. Wilcock.
Mrs. Wilcock (_Entering shyly, seeing Lomax and "bobbing" towards him_)
Thank ye, sir.
Charlie. Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. (_Pulling chair across
towards fire._) Good morning, Mr. Lomax.
Lomax (_crossing to l._). Good morning, sir.
(_Exit Lomax, l. Mrs. Wilcock sits on the edge of the chair._)
Mrs. Wil. (_Anxiously_) Do you think as A'm doing the reeght thing, Mr.
Bunting, sir?
Charlie (_Standing by her r._). Oh, yes, quite right, Mrs. Wilcock.
Mrs. Wil. (_volubly_). They all told me A mun coom an' see the master.
A weren't sure if it were proper. But there's not above a two three
shilling in th' _'_ouse, an' wheer money's to coom from for th' burying
A dunno. Six childer to find black for an' all, an' none of _'_em old
enough to be earning.
Charlie (_with his back to fire_). Don't let that trouble you, Mrs.
Wilcock. I'll see to that.
Mrs. Wil. It's all coom so sudden. He coom out to his work as cheerful
as could be, an' when they browt him whoam to me a steam roller might
a'gone o'er 'im.
Charlie (_shuddering_). Yes, yes. I saw him.
Mrs. Wil. The neighbours _'_as been that good to me you wouldn't
believe. One's lent me this cape an' another's loaned me this bonnet.
A'd nobbut a skirt masel' as was anyways black. It's not as if we'd
been in a buryin' club. Takes us folk all our time to go on livin' when
theer's six young mouths to fill an' another comin'.
Charlie. Well, you mustn't distress yourself about the funeral, Mrs.
Wilcock. I'll make that my business.
Mrs. Wil. (_with tears_). Bless you, sir, tha's taken a load off my
mind. A couldn't abide thowt o' my man's not bein' buried proper.
Charlie. What you've got to talk to Mr. Thompson about is the future.
Mrs. Wil. (_resignedly_). It'll 'ave to be th' 'ouse for me.
Charlie. Oh, nonsense. You'll get compensation.
Mrs. Wil. Must A ask the master for it, sir?
Charlie. Certainly.
Mrs. Wil. A misdoubt A'll never 'ave th' face to do it.
Charlie. You've nothing to be' afraid of. It'll be all right, Mrs.
Wdcock.
Mrs. Wil. (_dolefully_). A never thowt as mine 'ud be workus children.
Charlie. They won't be. You needn't fear that. (_Dowden, a young clerk
of about twenty-eight, opens the door l. He is cirefully dressed, but
his clothes have seen better days._)
Dowden. Dr. Clavering to see you, sir.
(_Enter Clavering, l. Dowden shuts the door._)
Charlie. Hullo, old man!
Clavering. Good morning.
Charlie. This is Mrs. Wilcock.
Clav. (_properly sympathetic_). Oh, yes. Good morning. Very sorry to
hear about your husband, Mrs. Wilcock. (_r.c._)
Mrs. Wil. (_tearfully_). Yes, sir. (_Charlie goes to the door l. and
opens it._)
Charlie. Oh, Dowden. (_Dowden appears._)
Dowden. Yes, sir?
Charlie. Just give Mrs. Wilcock a chair by the counting house fire,
till Mr. Thompson comes, will you? Go with this gentleman, Mrs. Wilcock.
(_She rises and he walks with her to the door._) Now, don't you fret.
You won't have to go to the workhouse.
Mrs. Wil. Thank you, sir. (_She goes out with Dowden, l._)
Clav. Are you sure of that?
Charlie. God knows, but the insurance people shan't rob her if I can
help it. Isn't it damnable, Clavering?
Clav. Yes. But it won't last for ever.
Charlie. The book, you mean. (_Taking a book from his pocket._)
Clav. Yes, the book. Hullo, do you carry it about with you?
Charlie. I'm going to give this to Thompson to-day.
Clav. Are you?
Charlie (_a little anxiously_). It's all right, I suppose? About the
publication?
Clav. Oh, yes. I heard from Mitchell this morning. It will be published
to-morrow.
Charlie. That's good.
Clav. Yes. What I came to show you was this. (_Taking paper from an
envelope from his inside pocket._) It's simply gorgeous.
Charlie. What is it?
Clav. Well, I've a friend on the _London Morning News_, and I got
Mitchell to see he had a copy of the book.
Charlie. Yes?
Clav. (_handing him the proof_). He sent me a proof of his review by
this morning's post. That's it. He's done us well.
Charlie. By Jove. That's luck.
Clav. Yes. It's a storming notice.
Charlie. Things are going to move a bit now the book's coming out. It'll
waken people up to a realization of the kind of thing that's done in the
name of profit.
Clav. (_impatiently_). Yes. I haven't time to stay now. I must get on
with my round.
Charlie. Of course. Don't let me detain you, old man. I'll read this at
once. Thanks for bringing it.
Clav. Right you are. Good-bye. I'll go this way. It's shorter. (_Opening
door at hack R.C._)
Charlie. Do. Good-bye.
(_Exit Clavering, r.c. Charlie unfolds the proof and reads it, moving
towards the door at hack. Enter Lomax._)
Lomax. Mr. Thompson has just come in, sir. (_Crossing to desk._)
Charlie. All right. Let him know Mrs. Wilcock's there. I shall be in the
laboratory if he asks for me.
(_Exit Charlie, r.c. Lomax fusses about the desk for a moment. Jabez
comes in L. takes off his hat and coat and hangs them by the door. Lomax
stands to attention at the desk._)
Jabez. Good morning, Lomax.
Lomax (_deferentially_). Good morning, sir. (_Pause._) Jabez. Anything
fresh there?
Lomax. Not very much, I'm afraid.
Jabez. There's not much trade about, these days. (_Sitting at his
desk._)
Lomax. No, sir. Cranbury's haven't sent their cheque again.
Jabez. Haven't they? Well, I'm waiting no longer. You'd better ring up
Charlton and get him to take it in hand. You might attend to this lot.
(_Handing him some letters._)
Lomax. Yes, sir.
Jabez. That's all. (_Lomax coughs._) Well, what is it?
Lomax. That matter of young Dowden sir. You said you would speak to him
to-day.
Jabez. Oh, yes, of course. (_Takes down speaking tube and blows: then
puts it to his mouth._) Send Dowden to me. (_Replaces tube._) Let me see
invoice desk, isn't he?
Lomax. Yes, sir.
Jabez. You're quite sure he's getting restive? Lomax. Absolutely. I
thought he'd ask for a rise last week. It's been on his tongue three
or four times or I shouldn't have mentioned it to you. A look from me
generally keeps them quiet if they only half mean it.
Jabez. What does he get?
Lomax. Twenty-two shillings.
Jabez. What's he likely to ask for?
Lomax. I shouldn't wonder if he asked thirty, sir. For one thing it's
three years since he had a rise, and for another he keeps his mother.
Jabez. Has she got any money?
Lomax. I fancy not, sir.
Jabez. Good. That'll keep him steady That's the kind we want, Lomax. He
can't afford to take risks. Good worker of course?
Lomax. Excellent. None better.
Jabez. Age?
Lomax. Twenty-eight, sir. (_A knock._) Shall I go, sir?
Jabez. No. Stay here. (_Calling._) Come in.
(_Enter Dowden, l. he is obviously extremely nervous over his
"carpeting" before his employer. Lomax stands above desk._)
Jabez (_beaming paternally on him, with his elbows on the arms of his
chair and his finger-tips together._) Come in, Dowden. Don't be nervous,
man. No one's going to hurt you. (_Dowden shuts door and moves towards
Jabez._) This is one of those pleasant interludes in the life of an
employer which make it worth the living. You have pleased me, Dowden.
Dowden. Very good of you to say so, I'm sure, sir.
Jabez. Mr. Lomax has spoken most favourably of you. Good lad, good lad.
We've been putting our heads together and we're going to raise your
salary to--twenty-five shillings a week.
Dowden. Thank you, sir. Thank you very much indeed. (_Nervously._) Only,
sir, I was going to ask----
Jabez (_interrupting_). Don't thank me, Dowden. You owe it to your
own good work. Go on in the same way and you may come to me again in
a year's time, I'll see you right. Mr. Lomax just make a note of that,
will you? That will do, Dowden.
Dowden. Yes, sir, and thank you, sir.
(_Exit Dowden, l._)
Jabez. Settled his hash for a year anyhow, Lomax. Just let me know of
any similar symptoms in good men. It always pays to take time by the
forelock in these little matters.
Lomax. It does that, sir. You prove it. You've the cheapest office staff
in the country for its size.
Jabez (_chaffing him genially_). You think so, Lomax?
Lomax. I'm sure of it, sir.
Jabez. I sometimes think the cashier makes a big hole in the salary
list, eh, Lomax?
Lomax (_alarmed_). I'm sure I----
Jabez. Yes, yes. I'm not thinking of cutting you down, Lomax. Only, one
has to fix a limit. You might bear that in mind.
Lomax. Yes, sir.
Jabez. That will do then. (_Lomax turns to go._) Oh, by the way, is Mr.
Charles in his room? Lomax. I think so, sir.
Jabez. You might ask him to step this way. Lomax. Yes, sir.
(_Exit Lomax, r.c. Jabez opens a side drawer in his desk, takes out a
cigar box, selects and lights a cigar, and goes to fireplace and turns
back to fire with the air of a man who, having done a good mornings
work, may legitimately permit himself some reward. Enter Charlie, r.c._)
Jabez. Good morning, Charlie. Hope you slept well.
Charlie. Good morning. Can't say I did.
Jabez. You'll soon get over that. At your age a night's rest more or
less makes no difference. Did I interrupt some particularly promising
experiment?
Charlie. No. I haven't been experimenting to-day. I've been engaged with
some of the men.
Jabez. Really? Well, there's no accounting for tastes. You're a queer
fish.
Charlie. You didn't send for me to tell me that, I suppose?
Jabez (_blowing smoke and watching it rise_). Eh? No, I suppose I
didn't. Have a cigar?
Charlie. No thanks.
Jabez. No? Well, now that you've come to your senses the thing is to see
about what arrangements we must make. To begin with, I think we'd better
fix you up a desk in here.
Charlie' (_wearily_). Yes.
Jabez. We'll have that table out and one put there. Or is that too near
the fire for you?
Charlie. Oh, anywhere.
Jabez. You see, you'll have to work under my supervision at first and
then begin gradually to take the responsibility off my shoulders. I
shall be glad of a rest, Charlie.
Charlie. Don't you think you are taking a good deal for granted?
Jabez. Why?
Charlie. I told you I'd not slept. A man can do a lot of thinking in
eight hours.
Jabez. What, you mean to say----
Charlie. That I've thought the whole thing over.
Jabez. Well?
Charlie. It's not good enough. It's--it's dishonourable.
Jabez (_angrily_). Dishonourable, sir? What the devil do you mean?
Charlie. I'm the only bulwark the men have. If I marry Rosie--sell
myself to you--it means pushing the men back into their old places just
when they're ready to make some show of fighting and want all the help I
can give them.
Jabez. For God's sake do leave the men out of it for one moment. It's
you I'm talking about, not them. You gave me your word last night.
Charlie. I know I did.
Jabez (_sneeringly_) You needn't talk so much about honour.
Charlie. Oh, there are things I value more than an empty phrase. That
lift accident made me realize once again how much I'm needed and how
little I could do if I married Rosie. I've seen Mrs. Wilcock this
morning. Oh, it's pitiful!
Jabez. Now, could I help the lift breaking down?
Charlie. No, but you could help a hundred other things happening, only
safety apparatus costs money and men are cheap. Last night's accident
was only the last straw. The men need me and I won't forsake them.
Jabez. Who's asking you to forsake them? I'm only asking you to carry
out your engagement. Good heavens, it's a chance any man in his senses
would jump at.
Charlie. I'm sorry I don't agree.
Jabez. You play fast and loose with me, my lad, and I'll ruin your
father for it. Don't forget that.
Charlie. Look here, suppose I let you force my hand. Suppose I married
Rosie under compulsion, what sort of a time do you fancy she'd have?
What's to prevent me taking it out of you by cruelty to the daughter you
love?
Jabez (_recovering his temper_). No you don't, my boy. It's very clever
of you. Upon my word, I'm glad to hear you talk like that. After all,
you've the makings of a business man about you, but I'm too old a bird
to be caught by a bluff like that. You know very well you're talking
through your hat. You couldn't do it. Besides, even if I wasn't sure of
you I'm sure of Rosie. I'm a long way more frightened for you than I am
for her, my boy. She's managed me all her life, and if there's going to
be any bullying when you're married, take my word, it's not you that'll
do it. You see, I know Rosie.
Charlie. Very well then. You compel me to take other measures.
Jabez. What, still fighting? You're getting quite pugnacious, Charlie.
(_Crossing to cupboard l. and unlocking it._)
Charlie. Don't laugh at me. I won't be laughed at.
Jabez. Then don't make yourself ridiculous, my boy. Every man feels like
you do when he's booked his passage. But most of us have it out with
ourselves. We don't talk about it, but we all get a fit of funk and
want to back out if we can. It's a natural reaction. Come, pull yourself
together, Charlie. Have a whisky and soda. (_He takes a decanter, glass
and syphon from cupboard and places on top of it._)
Charlie (_for a moment half laughing at himself_). You make very certain
that I'm not an embryonic wife-beater.
Jabez (_with the decanter in his hand_). You won't?
Charlie. No thanks. (_Jabez mixes a drink for himself._)
Jabez (_meditatively_). Yes, I think a desk will do very well in place
of that table.
Charlie. I refuse to sit at it.
Jabez. Oh, I don't think so. (_Walking up with drink and sitting l. of
fire, putting glass on mantel._) You see, Charlie, your father's so
very respectable; he simply radiates respectability. Gad, I shall never
forget old John's face when he was up in town with me for the first time
and I took him to the Empire. He got used to it later on, though.
But it's different down here. He's the champion bazaar opener of the
district. Quite a great man in his way is old John. Yes, we can't have a
scandal, Charlie. It really would not do.
Charlie. You must do as you like about that. It's his affair. And anyhow
it's absurd to talk of it as a scandal.
Jabez. He wouldn't say so. How shockingly unfilial you are!
Charlie. Possibly. I've myself to look after.
Jabez. Still fighting? (_He takes a drink._)
Charlie. Yes. If I can't touch you through Rosie, I can touch you
through something still dearer.
Jabez (_sarcastically_). And what may that be?
Charlie. Your pocket.
Tabez. What do you mean?
Charlie. Oh, you shall know. I'll give you fair warning.
Jabez (_rising_). What is it?
Charlie. The men. They're not blind. They're no longer the passive fools
their fathers were.
Tabez. Well?
Charlie. You were pleased to be angry with me last night when I
explained why I undertook laboratory work. I can't help that. My
sympathies are all with the men, not the master. If it comes to a fight,
I shall be on their side, not yours. You--oh, I don't expect you to
understand, but with me altruism is a religion.
Jabez. A religion! Is that all.
Charlie. What more can it be?
Jabez. My dear fellow, religion is a respectable pastime for Sundays,
but it's got nothing to do with every-day life except for parsons and
old women In this country, you can be a Mohammedan or a Mormon if you
like, but I can't see that it any material difference in your ordinary
conduct.
Charlie. Can't you? I'm different My religion is a thing I believe in on
weekdays, a thing I act upon and live up to as far as I can.
Jabez. Aren't we getting away from the point?
Charlie. The point is the men.
Tabez. Exactly. I'll have no tampering with the men Charlie, no putting
ideas above their station into their heads.
Charlie. It's fifty years too late to talk like that. As a matter of
fact, I'm going to address a meeting of the men to-night. And I shall
take their part. They know it. I've the gifts of the mob orator.
(_Chuckle from Jabez._) God knows it's a sorry gift to boast about, but
it will serve my turn. I can sway a crowd. I've done it time and again
in debates.
Jabez. (_Pause, then_) Where is this meeting? (_Crosses to desk, sitting
to face audience._)
Charlie. The Assembly Hall. I am as certain as I stand here that I can
work my will upon them. I shall advise a strike, and strike they shall
unless----
Jabez. Oh, you've got your price then? (_Sneeringly._)
Charlie. Yes. It's cowardly, but I have. It's against my convictions,
but, as you say, I have my price.
Jabez. What is it?
Charlie. Freedom of action. (_Crosing towards Jabez._) Laboratory work
and no other and release from the mockery of an engagement with Rosie.
(_Enter John, l._)
Jabez. Hullo, John. Good morning. Glad you called. (_Charlie goes to
fireplace._)
John. Good morning, Jabez. (_Crossing to Jabez._) Yes, I called about
the monthly accounts. I've got the total here, if you'll sign me a
cheque.
Jabez (_grimly_). You'd better talk to Charlie about that.
John. Charlie!
Jabez. Yes. Here he is with a bee in his bonnet as usual. Look at him,
John.
John. What is it, Charlie? Wasn't everything settled last night?
Jabez. Oh, you're not quite up to date, John. We move fast nowadays,
don't we, Charlie?
Charlie. I wish to God we did. (_Sitting on armchair l. of fire._)
Jabez. The latest is that some fools amongst the men want to strike.
Lord knows what they think they'll get by striking, but let me introduce
you. John, to the strike leader.
John. Charlie, you couldn't----
Jabez. Oh, he believes in variety, John, that's what it is. Last night
Rosie, this morning no Rosie. The men are the latest love. It's off with
the old and on with the new.
John. Don't be hard on me, Jabez. I can't bear it.
Jabez. I've to look after number one, John.
John (_appealingly_). Charlie!
Charlie. It's no good, father. I can't betray my principles.
Jabez. And I can't sign that cheque, John. Perhaps Charlie's prepared to
be your banker.
John. It means---- (_Sitting l. of desk._)
Jabez. Oh, I know what it means. (_Rises, goes c., drains glass and
turns on Charlie._) Listen to me, Charlie. I'll have no meddling with
the men. That's all over and done with. Understand once for all that
it's hands off the men. I'll have no discontent amongst my men. I don't
want men who'll think. I want men who'll work. (_Down l. to cupboard and
putting glass on top of it._)
Charlie. To think is to be discontented. Discontent is divine.
Jabez. Don't talk rubbish, sir. We are told to be content with the
station into which it has pleased Providence to place us.
Charlie (_passionately_). Virtue on ten thousand a year! This is your
rich man's God, who is at home to you in his church one day a week from
10.30 to 12 and 6.30 to 8. You don't go because you hope to get a
little dirt washed off your shop-soiled soul. You go because it isn't
respectable to stop away. For six days you serve Mammon, and on the
seventh you follow your gregarious instincts and crowd into a church
in your sleek broadcloth, and only the effort of keeping a properly
sanctimonious expression on your well-fed face prevents you from falling
asleep in your padded pew. That's your middle-class religion and your
middle-class Providence. Don't talk to me of Providence till you can
show me a Providence which provides.
Jabez, Rank blasphemy, sir. (_Going up to Charlie, settling his collar
irritably._) Don't talk to me as if I was a nonconformist.
Charlie. Nonconformist? No, you conform to everything. You began in a
rut and you'll stay in the rut till you die.
Jabez. A rut!
Charlie, Yes, the gutter where you poke in slime for sixpences, afraid
to look up at God's blue sky or about you at your fellow-men lest some
one else should pick up a sixpence while your head's turned. Oh, you
conform right enough. You do nothing else. You conform to Success and
Respectability, and they're the stronghold of the Devil.
Jabez (_recovering his temper, sitting down at desk and rubbing his
hands genially, looking at John, laughing._) Sit down, Charlie.
Charlie. Thanks, I can say all I have to say standing.
Jabez. Oh, but this is delightful. As good as a pantomime, isn't it,
John? Go on, Charlie. It's amusing you and doing me no harm.
Charlie. Yes, that's the pity of it. It's doing you no harm. You'll have
your dog's day. You'll go on accumulating the money you've no need of
because you're in the grip of the money habit. You couldn't stop mobbing
your impotent employés if you wanted to. The looting instinct's in your
blood.
Jabez (_calmly._) I am doing what I conceive to be my duty, the duty
of every man--to make as much as I can by honourable and business-like
methods.
My father did it and his father before him. My son would do it if I had
one.
Charlie. Hereditary money-grubbing. That's typical. It's our idea of
progress and self-reliance and thinking things out for one's self. (_He
pauses, hand on mantel, looking into fire._)
Jabez (_pause_). What, dried up? Well, I've let you have your fling. You
are like any other child, Charlie. You've been hurt and you're crying,
only you put your squeal into words. A child only howls, while the
natural impulse of the adult is to curse something or somebody. Have you
said all you wanted to?
John. Charlie, for Heaven's sake----
Charlie (_facing Jabez_). Oh, I'd more to say. But that will do. I've
wasted my breath, but it's done me good to give it you straight from
the shoulder for once. After all, you're not a millionaire or a trust
president. You're precious small beer as employers go nowadays.
Jabez. Oh, so that's all right, and I'm put in my proper place, eh,
Charlie? And you've let off steam now instead of to the men to-night.
Charlie. That's as may be. I've not done yet.
Jabez (_to John_). This fellow's solved the problem of perpetual motion,
John. What is it this time?
Charlie (_taking a small book from his pocket_). Do you know what this
is?
Jabez. It looks like a book.
Charlie. It is. Just have a look at it. (_Offering it._)
Jabez. I'm not interested in literature.
Charlie. This will interest you. (_Holding the book out towards him._)
Jabez. (_snatching it and reading the title_). "An Inquiry into
the Condition of the Workers in our Chemical Industries, by Walter
Clavering, M.D." What's this? Clavering? This isn't like what I know of
Clavering. I wonder what his game is?
Charlie. He hasn't got a game, as you call it. Clavering's in earnest
about it. (_Going up to fire._)
Jabez. I'm afraid you're a bad judge of character, Charlie. (_Turning
over the pages._) What's this? "Illustrated by Photographs by Charles
Bunting."
Charlie. Oh, yes. I had a hand in it.
Jabez. You damned young scamp.
Charlie. That's an advance copy. The book's not published yet.
Jabez. I'll take good care it never is.
Charlie (_smiling_). It will be published to-morrow. Here's a proof of
a review of it by a chum of Clavering's. This review will appear in a
London paper to-morrow. It will tell you all about the book. Shall I
read it to you? (_Taking a proof sheet from his breast pocket._)
Jabez. Go ahead.
Charlie (_reading from the proof as if selecting detached sentences,
mumbling a few words between each_). "The book bears on every page the
sign-manual of sincerity. Its facts are an incontrovertible proof of the
inadequacy of our factory law administration to cope with the rapacity
and unscrupulousness of manufacturers. A book to read not only with the
eyes, but with the heart. The authors has drawn public attention to a
festering sore in our midst. The great heart of the public cannot fail
to be moved by such an exposure of man's inhumanity to man. Something
must be done to counteract such infamy. There can be no delay."
(_Mumbling, as if looking for a further selection._)
Jabez. Stop! This is intimidation. It's blackmail. Clavering--you know
very well he came to me with some cranky respirator he'd patented. This
is his revenge on me for refusing to take up his rotten patent. It's
libel. I'll ruin him for it.
Charlie. Hadn't you better read the book before you talk like that?
Jabez. That for your book. (_Throwing it in the paper basket._) I'll buy
up the edition. I'll suppress it. I'll----
Charlie. No, you won't. The publisher happens to be an honest man.
Jabez. What the devil do you mean by taking a hand in this game? Haven't
I trouble enough as it is with the factory acts and their confounded
regulations? The men are pampered like lords with their grandmotherly
legislation.
Charlie. They're poisoned, and you know it. You refused to use his
safety device, and he's naturally taken the only course open to him of
arousing public opinion and forcing your hand. I was glad to help him.
Jabez. You young idiot. Can't you see through his game? He wants to
make money out of his patent safety respirator. He doesn't care a hang
for the condition of the men. If he did, he wouldn't have put the
price up by patenting his thing. No, my friend, he wants to do his
philanthropy on twenty-five per cent, terms at some one else's expense.
Jabez (_con._). And you fall into his trap like the blessed innocent you
are and help him to blackmail me.
Charlie. You're wrong. Everybody's not as mercenary as you. You've
got so used to expressing every idea in terms of L.S.D. that you can't
understand a man's doing anything from higher motives than money.
Jabez. Look here, Charlie, where do you think I'd be if I took up every
notion that every crank brings along to me? The men are insured, aren't
they?
Charlie. Yes, and a bad bargain the insurance people have of it.
Jabez. Then what do the fellows want with safety devices? They get their
compensation. The business won't stand more expense, Charlie. You'd know
that if you'd done as I wished and taken an interest in the management.
Goodness knows it's hard enough to get profits as it is.
Charlie. Then don't try. Close down.
Jabez. And throw the men out of work? Fine remedy that _'_ud be. They'd
thank me for that, wouldn't they? (_After a slight pause, rising._) That
doctor's got to be muzzled though.
Charlie. You can't muzzle a man. You can only muzzle dogs.
Jabez. Can't I? I'll bet you I get him to suppress that book if it's
really dangerous. I'll have a look at it in a moment. And I'll tell you
something more, my lad. If I catch you meddling with the men, I'll make
your father sit up for it.
Charlie. I shall address the men to-night. Jabez. I don't think you
will. Look here, John, you'd better try again. See if you can't make a
better job of it than you did last night, and I'll sign the cheque in
the morning. If not---- (_John makes a gesture of appeal to Charlie._)
Charlie. It's no good, father.
Jabez. I leave it with you, John. Take him off to your laboratory,
Charlie, and talk it over. (_Charlie drops forward to John._)
Charlie. Come along, Dad.
(_Exeunt Charlie and John, r.c. Jabez loosens his collar mechanically,
puts his hands in his pockets, takes a handful of coins from one pocket,
rolls it in his hands and transfers it to the other; then sits at his
desk, takes up the speaking tube, blows and speaks through it._)
Jabez. Just telephone to Dr. Clavering and say I'll be obliged if he
will step round here and see me at once.
(_He replaces the tube. Jabez takes the book from the paper basket and
turns its pages over while speaking to Lomax. Enter Lomax, r.c._)
Jabez. Oh, about that accident last night, Lomax. (_Looks up from the
book and turns round on his chair to face Lomax._)
Lomax. Yes, sir. I was coming to you about it when you were disengaged.
Mrs. Wilcock is waiting in the office.
Jabez. Who's Mrs. Wilcock? The widow?
Lomax. Yes.
Jabez. Oh, I can't be bothered with her. That's the insurance people's
job. Send her away. (_Lomax bows and is going l., he turns as Jabez
rises, crosses to fire and speaks again._) Have you--do you happen to
have heard what the men make of the accident?
Lomax. No, sir. That is, not'exactly.
Jabez. Speak up, man. Are they grumbling?
Lomax (_coughing_). I understand that there have been a few remarks
passed.
Jabez. Strong ones, eh? Um---- Got your notebook?
Lomax. No, sir. I'll---- (_Turning towards door l._)
Jabez. Never mind. Sit down here. (_Lomax sits in Jabez's chair._)
Write. (_Lomax bends to write._) Wait a moment. (_Lomax looks up._)
When's the inquest fixed for?
Lomax. Wednesday, sir.
Jabez. That's the 17th. Funeral the next day, I suppose?
Lomax. Yes, sir.
Jabez. Very well. (_Motioning him to write. Lomax bends over and writes.
Jabez crosses to desk and stands over Lomax, dictating._)
"In view of the distressing accident which occurred last night, it has
been decided to grant a halfholiday to the entire staff with full pay on
the afternoon of the 18th inst., in order----"
Lomax. One moment, sir.
Jabez. Got that?
Lomax. "The 18th inst." Yes, sir.
Jabez. "In order to give all an opportunity of attending the funeral
ceremony." Finished?
Lomax (_pause, then, rising_). Yes, sir.
Jabez (_crossing hack to fire_). Do you chance to know, Lomax, if there
happens to be a football match that afternoon?
Lomax (_coughing deprecatorily_). I don't follow the sport myself, but I
fancy it's the usual mid-week day.
Jabez. Ah. Have twenty copies of that notice typed and bring them
here. I'll sign them myself. Then send them out to the departments,
and--er--you might see that one comes in the way of the reporters at the
inquest.
Lomax. Yes, sir. (_Going._)
Jabez (_sitting_). Oh, and,'Lomax! (_Lomax turns at door._) Just mention
casually to one or two of the foremen that attendance at the funeral is
not compulsory. No names will be taken. And let me know if you happen to
learn how the announcement is received.
Lomax. Certainly, sir.
Jabez. That will do.
(_Exit Lomax, l. Jabez continues interested in his book. A whistle at
the tube. Jabez replies and puts it to his ear, then speaks down it._)
Jabez. Show Dr. Clavering in here. (_Replaces tube. Presently Dowden
opens the door l. and Dr. Clavering enters. Dowden closes the door
after him and goes without speaking. Jabez rises and meets Clavering
genially._)
Jabez. Ah, come in, doctor. I'm glad you were able to come so quickly.
(_They shake hands._)
Clavering. I'd just got in when your message came, so I was able to come
at once. How are you, Mr. Thompson?
Jabez. Eh? (_Surprised at the professional tone._)
Oh, I'm all right. There's never anything the matter with me.
Clav. Oh, it's not yourself, then. I understood you wished to see me
personally. Is there another accident case?
Jabez. Oh, no, there's nothing wrong. Er--have you a few moments to
spare? I'd like a word with you.
Clav. I'm at your service unless I'm telephoned for from the surgery.
Jabez. Sit down, doctor.
Clav. (_sitting r. of fire_), Thank you.
Jabez (_sitting l. of fire_). I understand you've been writing a book,
Dr. Clavering?
Clav. Oh, that's it, is it? You've heard from my collaborator?
Jabez. Your collaborator?
Clav. Mr. Bunting.
Jabez. Oh, yes, of course. Just so. Now, speaking as a business man,
doctor, I suppose you'd some object in writing that book?
Clav. (_grimly_). I want better conditions for chemical workers.
Jabez. I said "speaking as a business man."
Clav. Well, sir?
Jabez. I've not read the book yet. But I suppose I shan't be wrong in
assuming it deals largely with the advantages of the Clavering patent
respirator.
Clav. Naturally.
Jabez. I thought so. Of course, you're convinced of its advantages?
Clav. I use it myself. So does Mr. Bunting in his laboratory. Look at
us. We're well. Then look at your men. They don't use it. I'd just come
from seeing another of them when I got your message.
That man is being slowly poisoned to earn his bread. It's a typical
case.
Jabez. It's' very sad, very sad. Well now, doctor, can you propose
anything?
Clav. I can propose the respirator. It's not ideal, I don't pretend it
is--but it _'_ull give the poor devils a chance.
Jabez. We must certainly have the respirator.
Clav. (_surprised,_). You refused it when it was offered you.
Jabez. My dear sir, I get safety devices sent me every day. I can't
use 'em all. You never told me you used your thing yourself. It makes a
world of difference. And you hadn't written a book about it.
Clav. I see.
Jabez. I thought you would. Come, we're getting on famously. Now if I
adopt the respirator, do you think the book need be published?
Clav. (_curtly_). Yes.
Jabez. Oh, come, doctor, don't be stupid.
Clav. (_pause_). I'll tell you what I _will_ do, if you like. I'll wire
the publisher to postpone its issue and have a note put in stating that
it's been adopted here. But I'll not cancel my book.
Jabez. That might do.
Clav. (_reflectively_). It'll be a good advertisement for the
respirator.
Jabez. And a good thing for the patentee, eh, doctor?
Clav. I hope so.
Jabez. I've no doubt of it. So that's satisfactory to both parties. By
the way, doctor, don't think me rude if I put a rather personal question
to you. I've a reason for asking. Do you consider your practice here a
valuable one?
Clav. That rather depends on what you mean by valuable. It's numerous
enough in all conscience. There's plenty of ill-health about. But
valuable, no, I can't say it is. Your men get paid too little and they
die too fast for a doctor to grow fat amongst them.
Jabez. I've a notion we might come to some arrangement. I've had an idea
of adding a medical officer permanently to the staff. What do you say,
doctor?
Clav. I'll think it over.
Jabez (_rising_). Do. With the respirator at work you should have more
leisure on your hands for research, eh, doctor? I know what beggars you
medical men are for experiments, and you can't have over much time at
present. Suppose you telephone me later. We shan't quarrel over terms.
Or, stay, come in to dinner to-night? (_Rises and crosses R._)
Clav. Thanks. I will. (_Rising and going l._)
Jabez. You quite understand what this means, doctor?
Clav. Er--in what way?
Jabez. Well, it's the end of your literary career. I want no more books.
Clav. Nor I. This one will put the respirator on the market; that's all
I want.
Jabez. I thought as much. There's nothing like candour after you've
gained your point. (_Sitting at desk._) Oh, by the way, there's a
meeting of the men to-night.
Clav. So I hear.
Jabez. I'm going to speak there.
Clav. You!
Jabez. Yes, and I want you to come with me.
Clav. It's not quite in my line, sir.
Jabez (_persuasively_). Oh, just to tell 'em about this little
arrangement of ours.
Clav. I see.
Jabez. Charlie's speaking, you know. Some one's got to speak against
him. Er--I'll see it's a handsome salary, doctor.
Clav. I'll be there, Mr. Thompson. (_Moving to r.c. by desk._) May I ask
you something?
Jabez. Yes?
Clav. Is Charlie _still_ engaged to Miss Thompson? Jabez. I believe so.
Clav. Oh!
Jabez. What was it?
Clav. I was going to ask if I might speak to her myself.
Jabez. You hadn't much success last time, had you?
Clav. No. There's no harm in asking two or three times.
Jabez. Oh, you can ask.
Clav. But Charlie----
Jabez. As you say, there's no harm in asking. But understand it's
between you and her. You're not to use my name.
Clav. That's all I want.
Jabez. I'll see you to-night, then?
Clav. Yes.
Jabez. Right. Good morning, doctor.
Clav. Good morning, sir.
(_Exit Clavering, l. Jabez rubs his hands together with a satisfied air.
Lomax enters l. as Clavering goes out. He has a number of papers in his
hand._)
Lomax. Will you sign the announcements now, sir?
Jabez (_genially_). I will that. (_Commences to sign as Lomax hands them
to him one by one._)
CURTAIN.