ACT III

_It is 11.30 next morning._ ANGELA _is at the writing-desk, busy

with a few letters_. IMOGEN _appears noiselessly at the window.

She looks round the room, and then disappears again._ BATTERSBY

_comes in from the dining-room_.

BATTERSBY. We all seem very late this morning. Has the Prince _had_

breakfast?

ANGELA. I sent it round to the studio. I thought he’d prefer a

Continental one.

BATTERSBY. Probably the one thing he looked forward to was a welter

of eggs and bacon. You’ve given him quite a wrong idea of our old

English customs.

ANGELA. He can have eggs and bacon for lunch, if he’s very keen. Have

you seen him?

BATTERSBY. I borrowed him a razor from Ainslie, and I also took him

some clothes.

ANGELA. Clothes----I forgot about that.

BATTERSBY. I don’t say he’ll be beautiful, but he’ll be decent.

ANGELA. You’d better send over for his bag, and find out about the

Oliver man.

BATTERSBY. I suggested it, but he asked me to wait. He’s a little

uncertain about his plans. He said something about a letter.... I

suppose the post _has_ come?

ANGELA. Yes.

BATTERSBY (_without much hope_). Nothing for me, I suppose?

ANGELA. No.

BATTERSBY. I thought not. The number of people who sit down every

morning and say “I don’t think I’ll write to Battersby to-day” is

positively startling. There must be well over forty million of ’em in

England alone.

ANGELA. He couldn’t get a letter here anyway.

BATTERSBY. The Prince? I should be very much annoyed if he did. It

would be very disconcerting if a man who stayed here accidentally for

one night got a letter, and I who have stayed here on purpose for

years and years got none.... I suppose the paper hasn’t come?

ANGELA. No, not yet. I’ll speak to Lumley. He’s getting slack again.

BATTERSBY. There ought to be _some_ method of getting in touch with

the outside world. How would it be to have _The Times_ sent down by

post every day, and then it wouldn’t matter if the Lumley boy were

going for a whistle in this direction or not?

ANGELA. If you like, dear.

BATTERSBY. Besides, it would give the postman more respect for me, if

he saw my name now and then. I met him in the garden yesterday as he

was bringing up the letters. There were three for you, two for Emily,

four for cook and a seed-catalogue for James. I passed it off with a

careless laugh, but I could see what he was thinking (_He looks over

his shoulder, and sees her writing_).... Give my love to whoever it

is, and say that I should dearly appreciate a post-card----

ANGELA. It’s Debenham and Freebody.

BATTERSBY (_unmoved_). ----from either of them.

(_The_ PRINCE _comes in. He is wearing an old coat and a pair of

white flannel trousers of_ BATTERSBY’S. _He has shaved off his

moustache._)

PRINCE. Good morning to you. What a charming day!

BATTERSBY. Good morning, Prince.

ANGELA (_getting up_). Oh, good morning. I do hope you slept well,

and all that?

PRINCE. The bed couldn’t have been more comfortable.... I had

forgotten that there were so many birds in the country.

ANGELA. We’re used to them, of course.

BATTERSBY. But the silly things don’t realise it, and go on just the

same. (_The_ PRINCE _turns to him_) Hallo! I say! I hope that that

razor----

PRINCE (_nodding_). It was carried away. It has shaved the good

doctor so often, that before I knew what had happened----

BATTERSBY. We must tell Ainslie. As a scientific man, he’ll be

interested.

ANGELA. I like it. It makes you look more English.

PRINCE. That was why I did it, Mademoiselle. The only compliment to

your country I could think of so early in the morning. The birds were

whistling and singing, the sun was shining, and I said to myself, “I

love England! I shall stay here for ever. I shall be an Englishman.”

So I had what you call the clean shave.

BATTERSBY (_fingering his beard_). It isn’t _absolutely_ essential.

PRINCE (_with a bow_). The full beard or nothing, as in your

English navy. (_With a gesture at_ BATTERSBY’S) If only it had been

possible--(_regretfully_)--but there was no time.

BATTERSBY (_in a whisper_). You see, dear, he would have liked eggs

and bacon.

PRINCE. So now I am an Englishman.... I think of calling myself Brown.

ANGELA (_smiling_). Prince Brown.

PRINCE. Or shall I give myself the honourable, if not strictly

beautiful, title of Mister?

BATTERSBY. What would Neo-Slavonia say to that?

PRINCE. Well, that’s the question.

ANGELA. Will the country go to pieces without you?

PRINCE (_solemnly_). I fear it might.... But don’t let me interrupt

your letters, Mademoiselle. I shall be quite happy with the paper.

(_He picks it up._)

BATTERSBY. It’s a piece of yesterday’s, I’m afraid.

PRINCE. I shall be quite happy with a piece of yesterday’s paper.

BATTERSBY. There’s a small boy called Lumley whose duty it is to

forget to bring the paper every day. He is amazingly reliable. So I

generally go down about this time and fetch it for myself. If you

don’t mind----

ANGELA. Go on, Father. You’ll never be happy till you’ve seen it.

BATTERSBY (_with dignity_). To some women the fact that anybody

should be interested in activities outside his own household will

always be one of the more impenetrable mysteries. (_He goes out with

an air._)

PRINCE. Miss Battersby is interested, however.

ANGELA. In some things.

PRINCE. In some people.

ANGELA (_smiling_). In two people.... (_Looking at her watch_) You

won’t go till she comes?

PRINCE. I will stay until then, if I may. (_He also looks at his

watch, and then says, a little anxiously_) This little boy of whom

Mr. Battersby talks----

ANGELA. Lumley?

PRINCE. Yes. He is unreliable?

ANGELA. Very, I’m afraid.

PRINCE. You ask him to do something, and he goes off bird’s-nesting,

or fishing?

ANGELA. Rather like that.

PRINCE. However, there are perhaps other little boys in the village

not so unreliable?

ANGELA. I expect they’re all pretty much the same.

PRINCE. Oh!... (_We have another momentary glimpse of_ IMOGEN _at the

window_).... But I mustn’t interrupt you. This piece of yesterday’s

paper is full of good things.

ANGELA (_addressing the envelope_). I’ve just finished.

(AINSLIE _appears at the door_.)

AINSLIE. May I come in?

ANGELA (_over her shoulder_). Hallo! Come in.

AINSLIE. Good morning. Good morning, Prince Michael.

PRINCE. Good morning, doctor. Still here, you see.

AINSLIE. I was sorry to have to hurry off last night, and so, hearing

what had happened, I thought I would look in and make my apologies

and good-byes this morning.

PRINCE. How charming of you. (_Smiling_) And a Republican, too!

AINSLIE. My manners are without prejudice to my convictions.

ANGELA. We’re hoping that perhaps it won’t be good-bye just yet.

AINSLIE. Oh, I’m glad. Jennifer gave me to understand that I should

just have time to catch the Prince before he went.

PRINCE. How thoughtful of Mrs. Bulger.

ANGELA (_getting up, letters in hand_). You won’t fight if I leave

you alone for a moment?

PRINCE (_feeling_ AINSLIE’S _biceps_). No. I promise.

ANGELA. As long as you don’t whistle the Neo-Slavonian national

anthem, or anything provocative like that, he’ll be all right.

[_She goes out._

AINSLIE. I’m afraid I shouldn’t recognise it.... (_Awkwardly_) I

don’t know the etiquette, but may I lean against a table or something?

PRINCE (_solemnly_). I think I should lean first. (_He does so_)

There!

AINSLIE (_leaning too_). Thank you. (_He begins to fill his pipe_)

You won’t mind my saying that I wish I hadn’t met you?

PRINCE. If you won’t mind my asking why.

AINSLIE. I like keeping my prejudices intact. Are you the only Prince

with a sense of humour, or have I been wrong all these years?

PRINCE. Isn’t it against all medical etiquette for a doctor to be

wrong?

AINSLIE. There you are! You’ve no business to say things like that.

(_Preparing to light his pipe_) Do we smoke?

PRINCE. We smoke. (_He picks up one of_ BATTERSBY’S _pipes, and holds

it in his hand until_ AINSLIE’S _pipe is alight. Then he solemnly

puts it down again._)

AINSLIE. Thank you.... Curious thing about that young Oliver. Have

you heard any more this morning?

PRINCE. We are sending over to the hotel for news. We may hear

something at any moment. (_He looks at his watch._)

AINSLIE. I suppose you knew all about him?

PRINCE. Does one ever know all about anybody?

AINSLIE. I was thinking of his medical record.

PRINCE (_tapping his head_). He had an accident a few years ago.

AINSLIE. Ah! Concussion?

PRINCE. I imagine so. A stray bullet--on the Indian frontier, I

understand. Such an accident might cause complete loss of memory and

so forth, I suppose?

AINSLIE. Undoubtedly.

PRINCE. Thank you. (_Pretending to hand him money_) Your fee.

AINSLIE (_laughing_). Will you appoint me court doctor?

PRINCE. Gladly.

AINSLIE. I shall look forward to it. Meanwhile there’s a good deal to

do in the village. Do we move?

PRINCE. We move. (_They move towards the door._)

AINSLIE. I’m glad that we’re not losing you just yet. (_Looking into

the garden_) You weren’t playing hide-and-seek in the garden just

before I came?

PRINCE. No, Mr. Battersby had one or two things to do.

AINSLIE. I thought I saw----But I daresay it was nothing. _Au

revoir_, then.

[_He goes out._

PRINCE. _Au revoir._

(_He settles down to his paper...._ IMOGEN _appears again, and

seeing that he is alone, whistles cautiously. He takes no notice.

She whistles again--and again._)

IMOGEN (_in a loud whisper_). I say!

PRINCE (_looking round_). Hallo!... Miss Imogen! (_He gets up._)

IMOGEN. Are you alone?

PRINCE. Utterly. (_He comes to her._)

IMOGEN. I say, you’ve shaved off your moustache!

PRINCE (_feeling his face_). So I have.

IMOGEN. May I come in?

PRINCE. May I conduct you in? (_He gives her his hand and leads her

in._)

IMOGEN (_giggling_). I say, what fun!

PRINCE (_smiling_). Isn’t it?

IMOGEN. You and me.

PRINCE. Us.... Was that you whistling?

IMOGEN. Yes.

PRINCE. It wasn’t you whistling outside the studio this morning from

about four o’clock till nine?

IMOGEN. Not as long as that. I did whistle a bit.

PRINCE. Yes.... Now tell me. You did what I asked you?

IMOGEN. Rather! That’s why I wanted to see you. Just to tell you I

had.

PRINCE. Good!

IMOGEN. The boy is going to bring it up in about five minutes. That’s

right, isn’t it?

PRINCE. Perfect.... It isn’t a boy called Lumley, I suppose?

IMOGEN. Yes, it is. Why?

PRINCE. Oh, nothing.... You’re sure you can trust him?

IMOGEN. I’m sure I _can’t_ trust him. And I told him so. And I’m

going to watch him do it, and he doesn’t get the sixpence until I’ve

seen him do it.

PRINCE (_admiringly_). What an ally to have! (_He holds out his

hand_) Shake!

IMOGEN (_shaking it_). Oh, I say! (_Shyly_) I say?

PRINCE (_anxiously_). You aren’t going to cry again? (_She shakes her

head._) Well?

IMOGEN. That sixpence you gave me to give him.

PRINCE (_anxiously_). It was a good one?

IMOGEN. Oo, rather! But would you mind if I gave him another one of

my own instead? (_Shyly_) Because ... because....

PRINCE (_smiling_). I wish you would, Imogen. And the other will be

your lucky sixpence?

IMOGEN (_nodding_). ’M. And you’re not going now, are you?

PRINCE. I think now I shall be able to stay.

IMOGEN. Is that why you shaved? So your enemies shouldn’t know you?

PRINCE. Something like that. It’s a symbol.

IMOGEN. Of what?

PRINCE. Victory, I hope....

IMOGEN (_suddenly_). What’s that?

PRINCE. What was it?

(_They listen._)

IMOGEN. I must fly. At any moment we might be discovered alone

together.

PRINCE. True. And there is also Lumley’s boy to be watched.

IMOGEN. Oo, I say, I’d forgotten him. Good-bye, Prince Michael! (_He

holds out his hand. Romantically she goes on one knee and kisses it.

Then she goes off--crying again._)

PRINCE. The darling! (_He returns to his paper.... And soon_ JENNIFER

_is at the door_.)

PRINCE (_without looking round_). _I_ make it five minutes to twelve.

JENNIFER. So you _are_ still here?

PRINCE (_getting up_). You gave me till noon.

JENNIFER. How did you know it was me?

PRINCE. What a silly question to ask! Of course I knew it was you!

(_He turns to her._)

JENNIFER. Michael!

PRINCE. What?

JENNIFER. Nothing. Why did you--(_with a wave of the hand_)--do that?

PRINCE. Do what?

JENNIFER. Shave your moustache.

PRINCE. I didn’t. That wasn’t _my_ moustache. It was Prince Michael

Robolski’s.

JENNIFER (_eagerly_). You mean you’ve told Angela? She knows?

PRINCE. That I’m an--inventor?

JENNIFER. That you--yes. That we’re both inventors.

PRINCE. My dear Jennifer, how could I? Think how awkward it would be

for all of you! The things you all said to me last night! I couldn’t

be so cruel.

JENNIFER. Then go away now--and nobody need ever know.

PRINCE (_like a small boy_). But I don’t _want_ to go! I like Wych

Trentham. I like Mr. Battersby. I like Miss Angela. I like the

Doctor. I like Miss Faithfull.... I like Jennifer.

JENNIFER. One or the other, Michael.

PRINCE. The Doctor has just been up to say good-bye to me. The poor

man was in tears. I daresay you met Miss Faithfull. She has just

been up to say good-bye to me. The poor girl was in hysterics. Mr.

Battersby, struggling with his emotions, lent me these trousers. He

has now gone to buy me a paper. They all love me.

JENNIFER. Everybody loves a Prince.

PRINCE. Except Jennifer.

JENNIFER. They won’t love plain Michael Brown.

PRINCE. And yet he is a very lovable man really.

JENNIFER. Well, do you go or stay?

PRINCE (_smiling_). I’ll toss you for it. Heads I stay, tails I

remain. (_He tosses_) It’s tails. I remain. I remain, yours very

sincerely, Michael Robolski.

JENNIFER. Then I tell Angela.

(ANGELA _comes in, a letter in her hand_.)

ANGELA. Hallo, darling!... Where’s the doctor?

PRINCE. Gone. We embraced, and I gave him the Order of the Leopard,

Fifth Class.

ANGELA. I’ve got a hundred things to do, so I’ll leave you to amuse

each other. (_To the_ PRINCE) You’re staying to lunch, aren’t you?

PRINCE (_with a look at_ JENNIFER). Please.

ANGELA. Good. (_To_ JENNIFER) You’d better, too, darling.

JENNIFER. Angela, dear, wait a moment.

PRINCE (_looking at his watch_). I make it _two_ minutes to twelve.

(_To_ JENNIFER) I beg your pardon, I thought you asked me the time.

ANGELA. What is it? I really _am_ busy. (_To the_ PRINCE) Oh, this

letter has just come for you.

PRINCE (_relieved_). Ah! Thank you. Is it permitted?

ANGELA. Of course. (_The_ PRINCE _opens his letter._)

JENNIFER. Wait a moment, dear. There’s something I’ve got to tell you.

ANGELA. Exciting?

JENNIFER. It is rather.

PRINCE (_who is reading his letter_). Pardon! You would wish me to

withdraw?

JENNIFER. I would wish you to stay.

PRINCE (_bowing_). May I just----(_he indicates the letter, and

finishes it_) Good! (_He takes a deep breath_) At last! (_To_

JENNIFER) Now I am at your service, Madame.

JENNIFER. Angela, Prince Michael----

PRINCE. Just a moment, if I may interrupt you. You called me Prince

Michael. I cannot leave you under that misapprehension any longer.

Miss Battersby! My lips at last are unsealed. (_In his English

voice_) I am _not_ Prince Michael!

ANGELA (_casually_). Why not?

PRINCE (_with dignity_). I am trying to explain. (_Tapping his

letter_) At last I am at liberty to speak. I owe you the most sincere

apology. You thought you were entertaining Prince Michael Robolski of

Neo-Slavonia last night. In a sense you were. But it was not I.

ANGELA. What do you mean?

PRINCE. I was only the humble secretary. He who called himself James

Oliver was the real Prince.

JENNIFER. Oh!

PRINCE. You are surprised?

JENNIFER (_recovering_). Just for the moment.

ANGELA. So you’re an Englishman after all?

PRINCE. Certainly. Three months ago the Prince engaged me as his

secretary. I asked him what were my duties. He said, “To grow a

moustache and listen.” For a month I grew a moustache and listened,

while he talked to me about Neo-Slavonia. In the end I felt that I

knew the country even better than he did. Then he said, “Now if we go

to a place where we are both unknown, can you pretend to be Prince

Michael, while I pretend to be his secretary?”

ANGELA. Why?

PRINCE (_not knowing_). Why?

JENNIFER. Yes, why?

PRINCE. Why? That was what I said. Why? He gave reasons, political

reasons, which would sound stupid to you if I repeated them now, but

to one who understood Neo-Slavonian politics as I did, were very,

very--er, very.

ANGELA. Where was this?

PRINCE. Where was it?

JENNIFER. Yes, where was it?

PRINCE. Where was it?... In a little seaport town called Bratsk.

The--Cromer of Neo-Slavonia.

ANGELA. But I thought Neo-Slavonia had no coast-line.

JENNIFER (_eagerly_). Yes!

PRINCE (_reproachfully_). One small pier and a group of

bathing-machines do not constitute a coast-line.

ANGELA. I beg your pardon.

JENNIFER. Silly of us.

ANGELA. Well?

PRINCE. We went to Monte Carlo--I as the Prince, he as my secretary.

Every now and then he would disappear. It was not my business to

follow him. I am engaged to grow a moustache, not to search for

footprints. One day he takes me to England. “Very soon now,” he says,

“we shall be able to reveal the truth.”

ANGELA (_smiling_). And so, very soon now, you are going to?

PRINCE (_with dignity_). I am doing it at this moment. He gives me

permission in this letter. (_He taps the letter_) He also gives me my

wages--(_he holds up the notes_)--instead of a month’s notice. I am

my own master again.... And out of a job.

ANGELA. And that’s that?

PRINCE (_with a sigh of mental exhaustion_). That, roughly speaking,

is that.

ANGELA. Well, I’m glad one of you was the Prince. I don’t know what

Mrs. Faithfull would say if there had never been a Prince at all.

JENNIFER. There wasn’t.

PRINCE. Ha!

ANGELA. How do you mean, darling?

JENNIFER. There is no such country as Neo-Slavonia.

PRINCE. Ha again.

ANGELA (_calmly_). Darling, how _can_ you know that?

JENNIFER. Have you ever seen it on the map?

ANGELA. Have you ever seen Czecho-Slovakia on the map?

PRINCE (_aside_). Or Maida Vale.

ANGELA. Or Maida Vale?

JENNIFER. No.

ANGELA. Well!

PRINCE. Well!

JENNIFER. Well, I wasn’t certain either. So this morning I

telegraphed to a friend in the Foreign Office.

ANGELA. But would _he_ know?

PRINCE. How could _he_ know?

JENNIFER (_displaying telegram_). Here is his answer. (_She gives it

to Angela_) I said, “Where is Neo-Slavonia?” He replies----

ANGELA (_reading_). “Never heard of it.” Well, of course, it mightn’t

be in his department. (_Handing back the telegram_) I don’t think

that that’s conclusive.

PRINCE. I don’t think that’s at all conclusive.

JENNIFER. My dear, I _know_ that there isn’t such a country.

ANGELA. I don’t see how you _can_ know.

PRINCE. I don’t see how any one can _know_.

ANGELA. You might suspect. (_To_ PRINCE) What do _you_ think?

PRINCE (_automatically_). What do _you_ think? I mean, What do _I_

think?

ANGELA. Well?

PRINCE (_after thought_). I believe Mrs. Bulger is right.

JENNIFER. Thank you.

ANGELA. But how----

PRINCE. I believe that he had made it all up.

ANGELA. But I thought you said you had actually been in Neo-Slavonia

with him?

JENNIFER. Bratsk--the local Cromer.

PRINCE (_with dignity_). You go to a town--how do you know who the

town belongs to? If he says it is a Neo-Slavonian town, why should I

doubt him? I am engaged as a secretary, not as a Fellow of the Royal

Geographical Society. (_To_ ANGELA). Yes, the more I think about

it, the more I feel that he made it all up. (_Triumphantly_) And

that’s why he disappeared so suddenly last night--without even saying

good-bye. He saw that Mrs. Bulger was suspicious. (_Sadly_) Yes, I

feel sure now that the Prince was an impostor. Don’t you agree with

me, Mrs. Bulger?

JENNIFER. Entirely.

PRINCE (_to_ ANGELA). You see, Mrs. Bulger agrees with me entirely.

I wonder what his game was. It may have been just pure love of

adventure. I shouldn’t care to think too hardly of him.... Miss

Battersby, how can I apologise for having brought this on you?

ANGELA. Mr. Oliver, it has been a privilege to listen to you.

JENNIFER. Oliver? (_To the_ PRINCE _with a friendly smile_) Of

course! Oliver.

PRINCE (_puzzled_). Oliver?

JENNIFER. Your name. You changed names with the Prince.

PRINCE (_recovering gallantly_). Not names. Identities.

ANGELA. Why not names?

JENNIFER. Why not names?

PRINCE (_wondering_). Well----

ANGELA. You took his--why didn’t he take yours?

JENNIFER. Why didn’t he take yours?

PRINCE. This is really rather embarrassing.

JENNIFER (_catching his eye_). Yes, I can see how embarrassing it is.

PRINCE (_suddenly_). Can you? Well, if you can’t now, you will

directly. Miss Battersby, the Prince refused to take my name. He

said, “No, I cannot take that horrible name.”

ANGELA. Why?

PRINCE (_impressively_). Because my name is--Bulger!

JENNIFER (_staggered_). Oh!

PRINCE. You are surprised again?

JENNIFER. Just for another moment.

PRINCE BULGER (_to_ JENNIFER). I have sometimes wondered if we are

relations? (_To_ ANGELA). You remember how interested I was when you

first told me your friend’s name? I wondered then.

ANGELA. Jennifer’s husband was a General in the Indian Army.

PRINCE (_eagerly_). Really? How odd! Not James?

JENNIFER (_weakly_). James.

PRINCE. How very curious!

ANGELA. Did you know him?

PRINCE. I _am_ James Bulger of the Indian Army.

JENNIFER. No, no!

PRINCE (_quickly_). Or am I not? You see, Miss Battersby, I was

knocked out rather badly in a small frontier skirmish--by a stray

bullet--left for dead, captured by the advancing enemy. When I came

to myself, my memory had gone. I remembered nothing. Not even my own

identity. A flask in my possession with the name James Bulger on it

and the simple inscription “Presented by a few old friends of the

Hammersmith Temperance Association” was my only clue. But was it

my own flask, or had James Bulger lent it to me? I shall never be

certain. For at times I have had a curious feeling that my real name

is--(_he looks at_ JENNIFER)--Brown.

ANGELA. It sounds very likely. A lot of people are called Brown.

PRINCE. Is that so? (_To_ JENNIFER) In that case you must permit me

to return your husband’s flask to you.

JENNIFER (_weakly_). Thank you. You haven’t it on you?

PRINCE. And if you will be so very kind as to talk to me a little

about him, it may be that you will strike some responsive chord in my

memory, and set it vibrating.

ANGELA (_getting up_). That’s a good idea. And when you’re quite

certain who you’re going to be, you must let me know. Anyway, you’ll

stay to lunch? I think you’ve earned it.

PRINCE. It is charming of you to have me.

ANGELA (_graciously_). Not at all. The excitement is ours.

[_She goes out._

JENNIFER. Well, Michael? (_She sits down._)

PRINCE (_triumphantly_). Well, Jennifer? (_He sits next to her. She

turns away, and he turns away. They talk, back to back._)

JENNIFER (_reluctantly_). You’re very clever.

PRINCE. Aren’t I?

JENNIFER. Naturally you’ve had a good deal of practice.

PRINCE. Naturally.

JENNIFER. I suppose you feel you’ve gained something by it all?

PRINCE. Lunch--anyway. If I had let myself be exposed by you, I

shouldn’t have had lunch.

JENNIFER. Oh, if you’re as hungry as that----

PRINCE. I am afraid you haven’t realised the extraordinary delicacy

with which I have handled the matter?

JENNIFER. I hadn’t, no.

PRINCE. You see, I wasn’t sure what you wanted. Did you want to go on

being the wife of General Bulger? If so, here I am, your long-lost

husband, Bulger, miraculously restored to you. Did you want to

confess the truth, that you are really Mrs. Michael Brown? Here am

I, the only original Michael Brown. Or do you want to marry again,

and try another name? Here am I, still at your service, prepared to

remember that my name is--whatever you most fancy. (_Proudly_) Very

few people could have been as tactful as that.

JENNIFER. But how considerate of you!

PRINCE (_modestly_). I am that sort of man.

JENNIFER. You seem to have provided for everything.

PRINCE. I tried to.

JENNIFER. And yet there was one possibility you overlooked.

PRINCE. Good Heavens, what?

JENNIFER. In your extraordinary delicacy you didn’t allow for the

fact that I might want to be left alone.

PRINCE (_looking at his watch_). For how long?

JENNIFER (_a little crossly_). What do you mean, for how long? When a

woman says that she wants to be left alone, you don’t ask her for how

long.

PRINCE. Why not?

JENNIFER. I don’t know why not. One doesn’t. It’s a ridiculous

question. Naturally, I mean that I want to be left alone for ever.

PRINCE. I see. You mean till you’re about ninety.

JENNIFER. No, I don’t. I wasn’t thinking about being ninety.

PRINCE. Good! Then what about eighty-nine? Suppose I drop in on your

eighty-ninth birthday----

JENNIFER. I shall not be at home.

PRINCE. Not if I came in the afternoon--with a few flowers?

JENNIFER (_coldly_). I want to be left alone.

PRINCE. By me--or by everybody?

JENNIFER. By you. By everybody in the way you’re talking about. I

don’t propose to marry again.

PRINCE (_gently_). It was I who was proposing.

JENNIFER. Then I am not open to offers of marriage.

PRINCE. Well, if you won’t marry again, will you live with either of

your two previous husbands?

JENNIFER. No.

PRINCE. You refuse?

JENNIFER. Absolutely.

PRINCE. You’re very difficult to please.

JENNIFER. No, I’m not. I’m very easy to please. I only want you to go

away.

PRINCE (_reproachfully_). After all the trouble I’ve taken?

JENNIFER. Go away.

PRINCE. It is a little hard on a man ... who has been travelling for

years ... in an unknown country ... to come back to his wife, and to

find that--like Penelope ... no, not like Penelope ... well, it’s a

little hard.

JENNIFER. I should keep Penelope out of it, if I were you.

PRINCE. I was trying to.

JENNIFER. When Ulysses left her, he did at least give her some idea

when he was coming back.

PRINCE. But what a wrong idea! “Back at Christmas,” he said

cheerfully, and it was twenty years before he saw her again.

JENNIFER. She knew what he was doing, anyhow.

PRINCE. Rescuing Helen, the most beautiful creature in the world.

That would be a great comfort to any woman.

JENNIFER. I don’t want to argue about it.

PRINCE. I went away in a much better cause than Ulysses. If you had

read the right sort of stories when you were young you would have

realised that, metaphorically speaking, you and I were in a sledge,

pursued by a pack of wolves over the snowy steppes of Siberia. Ivan

Ivanovitch, our faithful Cossack driver, flogs the fast-wearying

horses; from time to time I empty my revolver into the advancing

hordes and force them to stop and eat each other; all to no purpose.

And then, when I make the supreme sacrifice by hurling myself into

the midst of the ravening pack, what happens? I am blamed because I

left the sledge suddenly, and forgot to say, “Back on the 25th.”

JENNIFER. I don’t think that that is a perfect parallel.

PRINCE. According to Einstein there are no perfect parallels. But

I’m doing my best. (_He gets up_) I’m doing my best. (_She looks

away_) Jenny! (_She has her hand to her ear, arranging the hair above

it. He seizes her wrist--and then suddenly talks down her ear, as

if it were a telephone, using her hand as the receiver_) Hallo, is

that the exchange? I want Jenny. One in a million ... Jenny, one in

one double 0, double 0, double 0.... Yes.... Hallo, Jenny, is that

you?... Guess!... No.... No.... I say, what swell people you know!...

Shall I tell you?... Michael.... Don’t you remember Michael? The ugly

fellow who was always grousing because he couldn’t get a job.... Yes.

Casual sort of fellow.... It’s him ... he.... Oh, much the same....

I suppose you wouldn’t let him come down to your village, and just

_look_ at you occasionally.... Oh, I don’t know. He could sit behind

you at church or something.... Oh, don’t you? Then it’s quite time

you did.... You _wouldn’t_ care about it?... Oh!... Oh, I just

wondered. I expect you’re right. (_He hangs up the receiver and walks

away, whistling carelessly, to the writing-desk, where he sits down

and begins to write._)

JENNIFER (_after watching him for a little_). What are you doing?

PRINCE. Making my will, and leaving everything to you, of course.

JENNIFER. Oh, are you shooting yourself?

PRINCE. Obviously.

JENNIFER. I thought you made a will when we first got married.

PRINCE (_annoyed_). Can’t I do it again if I want to?

JENNIFER. Of course. But I thought I got the money anyhow? Even if

you died--what’s the word? Rather a horrid one----

PRINCE. “Suddenly.”

JENNIFER. Intestate. (_To herself as if commenting on a man who has

died of this unfortunate complaint_) So painful, poor fellow!

PRINCE (_fiercely_). Good heavens, if a man can’t make a remorseful

will just before shooting himself, life becomes utterly impossible.

JENNIFER. I beg your pardon.

PRINCE. I’m sorry. Naturally I am a little on edge.

JENNIFER (_after a pause--to herself_). _Four_ “s’s” in “possessed.”

Some people only put three.

PRINCE. In my last moments I propose to allow myself perfect liberty

in the matter.

JENNIFER (_after a pause_). Which would be the best solicitor to go

to? My own or yours?

PRINCE. I leave that to you. (_Looking upwards_) I shall never meet

either of them again.... (_Looking downwards_) At least, I hope not.

JENNIFER (_after a pause_). Michael!

PRINCE. H’sh, h’sh!

JENNIFER. Michael!

(_He doesn’t answer. She trills like a telephone bell._)

PRINCE. Damn that telephone. (_She rings again_) Oh, Lord! (_He gets

up and goes to her, putting his left hand to her mouth, and her right

hand to his ear._)

JENNIFER. Hallo!... Hallo!... Oh, is that Prince Michael of

Neo-Slavonia?... Yes! However did you guess?... Really?... A little

bit older and fatter.... What?... Oh, how sweet of you!... You can

tell from the voice? Michael, how clever of you!... Well, you’ll see

for yourself.... Yes, that’s what I wanted to say.... Just before you

shoot yourself.... Oh, well, you must ask me.... I don’t know. I

haven’t decided.... All right, I’ll wait for you. Good-bye.

(_She kisses his hand. He kisses hers._)

PRINCE. Well, Jenny?

JENNIFER. Well, Mike?

PRINCE. I’ve come back.

JENNIFER. So it seems.

PRINCE. What about it?

JENNIFER. I don’t know.

PRINCE. Shall we try?

JENNIFER (_nodding_). If you like.

PRINCE. Thank you, Jenny.

JENNIFER. It’s an experiment, of course.

PRINCE. Isn’t that the most fun?

JENNIFER. You’re an adventurer at heart, you know.

PRINCE. You too, Jennifer.

JENNIFER (_smiling_). I suppose I am.

PRINCE. Adventurers, both.

JENNIFER. I suppose any morning I may wake up and find that you’ve

gone off to be the Prince of some imaginary country.

PRINCE. And any afternoon I may wake up to find that you’ve run off

with some imaginary General.

JENNIFER. Yes, we’ve got to remember that.

PRINCE. Yes....

JENNIFER. Michael?

PRINCE. Jennifer.

JENNIFER. I think we’ll keep an atlas in the house.

PRINCE (_nodding_). And an Army List.

JENNIFER. And some day, perhaps, I shall come upon you looking

wistfully at that atlas, wondering where Neo-Slavonia is.

PRINCE. And some day, perhaps, I shall find you fluttering the pages

of that Army List, and wondering which General most wants a widow.

JENNIFER. And when that happens to either of us, then one will know

that the other one----

PRINCE. Wants a little holiday.

JENNIFER. So they’ll say to each other quite casually, “Oh, are _you_

off?”

PRINCE. And off they’ll go.

JENNIFER. And then when they’ve been away long enough----

PRINCE. Not four years this time----

JENNIFER. Only a little while----

PRINCE. They’ll try to find each other again.

JENNIFER. And they will have so much to tell each other----

PRINCE. That they will never be bored.

JENNIFER. It might work that way.

PRINCE. It might.

JENNIFER (_holding out her hands_). Worth trying, Michael?

PRINCE (_taking them_). Worth trying, Jennifer.

(_As they stand there_, BATTERSBY _bursts in with the paper,

obviously excited._)

BATTERSBY. I say! I say! I say! Just as well I went to get the paper.

PRINCE (_vaguely, dropping_ JENNIFER’S _hands_). The paper?

BATTERSBY (_showing the place_). Look here, Prince! There! (_They

take the paper and look at it together_) I say, Angela! (_He hurries

off to her._) I say! Angela!...

PRINCE (_reading_). Sudden Revolution in----Neo-Slavonia! (_He stares

blankly at her._)

JENNIFER. But you said there wasn’t!

PRINCE. There isn’t! I invented it.

JENNIFER (_pointing to paper._) But there must be!

PRINCE (_nodding_). There must be. (_Sadly_) Jennifer, Jennifer, I

thought I was a creator, and I’m just an ordinary impostor after all.

JENNIFER (_very soothingly_). Never mind, darling. Better luck next

time!

(_Angela is at the door, a cigarette in her mouth, a cocktail in

her hand._)

ANGELA (_regarding them with an indulgent smile_). Come along,

children!

(_Hand in hand, they walk past her, the children, and go out....

She follows them._)

ARIADNE, OR BUSINESS FIRST

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS

CHARACTERS

ARIADNE WINTER.

JOHN WINTER (_her husband_).

MARY (_maid_).

HECTOR CHADWICK.

HESTER CHADWICK (_his wife_).

JANET INGLEBY.

HORACE MELDRUM.

SCENE: _Drawing-room of John Winter’s house in the provincial town of

Melchester._

ACT I. Friday.

_Scene_ 1: Before dinner.

_Scene_ 2: Three hours later.

ACT II. Saturday. Late afternoon.

ACT III. Monday. Between tea and dinner.

The first performance of this play in London took place at the

Theatre Royal, Haymarket, on April 22, 1925, with the following cast:

_John Winter_ ION SWINLEY.

_Ariadne_ FAY COMPTON.

_Hector Chadwick_ JOHN DEVERELL.

_Hester Chadwick_ LOUISE HAMPTON.

_Janet Ingleby_ JOYCE KENNEDY.

_Horace Meldrum_ ALLAN AYNESWORTH.

_Mary_ BARBARA EVEREST.

ACT I

SCENE 1

_The drawing-room of the Winters’ house in Melchester. Like so

many other rooms in England, it is a mixture of styles--the John

style and the Ariadne style. The fireplace and mantelpiece, with

its presentation clock and twin vases, is pure_ JOHN. _Probably

he insisted on the clock; and_ ARIADNE, _realising that the

mantelpiece was now hopeless, encouraged him to put some of the

other presents there. The pictures are_ JOHN, _including the

hand-painted water-colour of an unexpected part of Switzerland,

given by a grateful lady-client, for whom he has appeared in the

county court. There are one or two early_ JOHN _pieces among the

furniture and easily recognisable by their ugliness; not that his

taste is bad, but simply that a drawing-room requires so much

furniture, and if an aunt or a sister or a foreclosed mortgage

has provided a proportion of it, it is folly to waste good money

in buying the same things over again. For to_ JOHN _all money is

good money; to be sought, to be won, and not to be thrown away_.

ARIADNE _doesn’t like throwing it away, but she likes exchanging

it for beautiful things, and here and there she has managed to do

this. She also likes comfort, and there is a chair for_ JOHN _and

a sofa for herself which, to some of the Melchester ladies, seem

almost indecently easy for a drawing-room._

_On a small table there is a big bowl of roses, with a note

tucked in the middle of them. We shall hear more about these._

_The room is in darkness, for it is after seven on an autumn

evening._

ARIADNE _comes in and turns on the light. She is a happy young

woman with a sense of humour which finds itself well exercised in

Melchester. Just at the moment she is in the middle of a quarrel

with her husband, and she carries on her face the lingering

afterglow of their last heated remarks to each other. Probably

the afterglow is more pronounced on_ JOHN’S _face; we shall see

directly_. ARIADNE _would be coolly ironical, for the most part.

She walks round the room, takes the note from the roses, shrugs

her shoulders at the writing, and puts it back again; then picks

up the evening paper from a table, and sinks into the sofa._

JOHN _follows. Undoubtedly he is ruffled, but he is not going

to show it. As one of the leading solicitors of Melchester it

is his business to control his feelings. But though his keen,

intelligent, clean-shaven face may be a mask to his clients_,

ARIADNE _can read every word of it. She gives him a look, and

smiles to herself._

JOHN (_looking at his watch_). Plenty of time. I thought I was

going to be late. (_He compares his watch with the clock on the

mantelpiece_) H’m. Fast again. (_He puts the hand of the clock five

minutes back_) I shall have to have it seen to.

ARIADNE (_not looking up from her paper_). Oh, don’t do that.

JOHN. They wouldn’t keep it long.

ARIADNE (_with an ironical look at the clock_). I wasn’t thinking of

that.

JOHN. Well, what?

ARIADNE. It must be so nice always putting things right--and knowing

you’re right yourself.

JOHN (_with restraint_). I put my watch right by the Town Hall.

That’s how I know.

ARIADNE. The Town Hall puts all the watches right. How satisfactory

for it.

JOHN (_ignoring this_). Anything in the paper?

ARIADNE. And the watches put all the presentation clocks right. And

the kitchen clock takes its time from this one, so however wrong you

are, there’s always some one you can tell.

JOHN. I am afraid this is too subtle for me. Anything in the paper?

ARIADNE (_offering it to him_). Want it?

JOHN (_taking it_). Sure you’re finished with it?

ARIADNE. Actually, no; but speaking as a wife, “Yes, John.”

JOHN (_opening it_). I don’t suppose there is much in it anyway.

ARIADNE. Not enough for two, apparently. We might take in another

copy of it.

JOHN. My dear Ariadne, what a ridiculous suggestion!

ARIADNE. Why?

JOHN. Two copies of the same paper!

ARIADNE. Twenty-six shillings a year, that’s all.

JOHN. Why throw away good money?

ARIADNE. But money, even if it’s good money, is meant to be thrown

away.

JOHN. Not on wanton extravagance like that.

ARIADNE. Surely if you get pleasure and profit from it, that’s

enough. If I pick up the paper first, you resent it, don’t you? And

if I have to wait for it until you have read every last word of

the advertisements, well, however used I am to waiting, it leaves

a little mark each time. So we should both be happier if we had

two copies, shouldn’t we? And you can’t often buy a little extra

happiness every day for twenty-six shillings a year.

JOHN. What’s the matter with you to-night?

ARIADNE. Working the remains of our quarrel off before our guests

come.

JOHN (_anxiously_). You’re going to be civil to Horace Meldrum?

ARIADNE. Of course!

JOHN. Why you ever started a quarrel about him I can’t conceive.

ARIADNE. I oughtn’t to have said quarrel. There was no quarrel. I

merely said that I wouldn’t have Mr. Meldrum in my house again, and

you said that in that case you would ask him to dinner to-night.

Hardly a quarrel.

JOHN. I explained quite clearly why we had to be polite to him.

ARIADNE. You explained that he was one of your most important clients.

JOHN. _The_ most important.

ARIADNE. Yes. Oh, you put it very clearly.

JOHN. I am not the only solicitor in Melchester, you know.

ARIADNE. And Mr. Meldrum isn’t the only bounder.

JOHN. I admit he’s--well--what shall I say?

ARIADNE. Shall _I_ say it?

JOHN. But I’m getting a good deal of his work, and if we can keep the

right side of him there’s no saying what it will lead to.

ARIADNE. That’s what I feel.

JOHN. If he took offence suddenly about anything, he’d think nothing

of going straight off to another solicitor----

ARIADNE. And making love straight off to another solicitor’s wife.

JOHN. Oh, come! You aren’t a newly married girl. You know how to keep

that sort of man in order.

ARIADNE. As a rule, yes. But in one of those awkward cases when you

have to choose between preserving the honour and dignity of your

husband and preserving the prosperity of his business----

JOHN. Nonsense! That’s going much too far.

ARIADNE. Almost the very words I said to Mr. Meldrum last time.

JOHN. I don’t like having him here any more than you do, but I can’t

deliberately throw good money away.

ARIADNE. There’s another way of putting that, you know.

JOHN. What?

ARIADNE. I don’t like throwing good money away, but I can’t

deliberately let my wife be insulted.

JOHN (_burying himself in his paper_). Insulted! Rubbish!

(_Ariadne stretches out a hand and takes the note from the bowl

of roses._)

ARIADNE (_holding the note out to him_). Here.

JOHN. What?

ARIADNE. Your client’s last letter to me.

JOHN (_taking it_). You haven’t opened it.

ARIADNE. I don’t need to. I can guess what’s inside it.

JOHN. But it might be important.

ARIADNE. I thought _you_ would like to open it. You are my husband.

JOHN (_doubtfully_). When did it come?

ARIADNE. This afternoon, with those flowers. (_She indicates the

roses._)

JOHN (_going round to inspect them_). Did Meldrum send you these? How

awfully decent of him. You can’t get roses like that for nothing.

ARIADNE. You can’t.... Aren’t you going to open the letter?

JOHN. Why do you want me to?

ARIADNE. I know how he writes. I thought _you_ would like to know.

JOHN (_uncertainly_). It’s just--a few polite nothings.

ARIADNE. I daresay. Won’t you read it? I have no secrets from you.

JOHN (_hesitatingly_). Well, it’s--it’s your letter.

ARIADNE. Are you afraid to?

JOHN. How do you mean afraid? It’s your letter, why don’t _you_ open

it?

ARIADNE. I know so well the sort of thing; you don’t. Are you afraid

to know?

JOHN. Of course not. (_But he turns it over nervously._)

ARIADNE. Well?

JOHN (_offering it to her_). It isn’t my letter. Why don’t _you_ open

it? You refuse to? Very well. It’s your letter, you refuse to open

it. I have no right to. (_He tears the letter into four pieces and

throws it into the waste-paper basket._)

ARIADNE _(shaking her head at him_). Oh, John!

JOHN (_blustering_). Why do you make such a melodramatic fuss about

a mere note like that? Perfectly harmless note accompanying a few

flowers. Very decent of him, considering. Look at Hester. She’s known

him as long as I have. She doesn’t make a fuss. He and Hector do a

lot of business together. Do you think Hester makes a fuss when he

goes to their house? Do you think she shrieks out that she is being

insulted?

ARIADNE (_smiling_). Don’t tempt me, John.

JOHN. I suppose now you are going to run down my sister. I suppose no

one in Melchester is good enough for you. That’s how it is.

ARIADNE. _You_ were once, John.

JOHN. The long and the short of it is that you don’t like Meldrum.

If it’s any satisfaction to you, neither do I. But for the sake of

the business, on which you depend as much as I do, I ask you to be

friendly to him. Well, polite, anyhow.

ARIADNE. I will be more than polite. I will be friendly. That I

promise.

JOHN (_coming up to her_). You’ve got a way with you, you know. You

can’t pretend you haven’t. I’ve seen you with all sorts of people,

people you must have hated, smiling at ’em as sweetly as if you’d

loved them all your life.

ARIADNE (_smiling to herself_). I will smile like that at Mr.

Meldrum. Watch me.

JOHN. Only the other day Hester was admitting that there was

something about you----

ARIADNE. How nice of her! I love to think of you and Hester having

long talks about me, and your sister admitting things like that.

(_She takes a rose from the bowl, and holds it up_) Aren’t they

pretty?

JOHN (_very friendly_). He throws his money about, doesn’t he? But

then he can afford to.

ARIADNE (_putting the rose in her dress_). I like people who _throw_

it about.

JOHN. He’s quite a good sort when you get to know him.

ARIADNE. I must get to know him, I can see.

(_And there the discussion ends for the moment._)

JOHN (_looking at his watch_). Hester’s late. She isn’t usually late.

I suppose Hector has been kept by some business. I don’t know why one

expects them always to be first----

ARIADNE. I suppose because they always are.

JOHN. Meldrum is sure to be late, of course.

ARIADNE. Detained--by business.

JOHN. Well, he _is_ pretty busy just now with all these new cheap

cottages he’s putting up.

ARIADNE (_suitably impressed_). Ah! (_John returns to his paper._)

(_After a pause_) Oh, by the way, I am going up to London to-morrow.

JOHN. To-morrow? Saturday?

ARIADNE. Yes.

JOHN (_a little annoyed_). Can’t you wait till Wednesday?

ARIADNE. I don’t like excursion trains. I suppose I’m fussy.

JOHN. Oh well.... What is it? Shopping?

ARIADNE. One or two things. I shall lunch at the club.

JOHN. The club! Now there’s a needless extravagance. How many times

do you go to your club in a year?

ARIADNE (_lightly_). I don’t know, John, and I don’t care, John, and

I’m going to lunch there to-morrow, John. Now don’t say another word

while I get my smile ready for Hector.

JOHN (_suspiciously_). Smile?

ARIADNE. Smile of welcome.

(_A hearty voice is heard outside._)

JOHN (_looking at his watch_). Here they are at last.

ARIADNE. I expect he forgot to put his watch right by the Town Hall.

MARY (_announcing_). Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick.

(HECTOR, _a bore in the grand style, with every cliché at his

command, a bore who--it would seem--really takes a pride in his

art, has been too much for Hester. She has faded, without quite

knowing why. She is still proud of_ HECTOR; _one could not fail

to be of so supreme an artist; and she has given up her right

to the hearth-rug and the central position, without resentment;

but she feels that there should have been something more in life

than_ HECTOR’S _voice. She is fond of her brother, and has always

known that_ ARIADNE _was not good enough for him_.)

HECTOR. Good-evening!

JOHN. Ah, here you are.

ARIADNE (_offering a cheek_). Good-evening, Hester.

HESTER. Good-evening. Good-evening, John. (_She goes and kisses him._)

JOHN. Good-evening, dear.

HECTOR (_shaking hands with_ ARIADNE). I was afraid we were late. A

rush of business came in just as I was leaving the office----

HESTER. Hector is very busy just now.

HECTOR (_taking out his watch_). Is that clock right, John?

JOHN. Right by the Town Hall.

HECTOR. That’s good enough for me. (_Altering his watch_) I’m five

minutes slow. Funny thing about watches. Now I daresay if somebody

else wore this watch, it would be five minutes fast.

ARIADNE. You’re too quick for it, Hector.

(_They sit down._)

HESTER. Who else are coming?

JOHN (_a little awkwardly_). Meldrum.

HECTOR. Horace Meldrum. Ah! These new houses of his will be a pretty

good thing for you, John. I suppose you’ve got the conveyancing of

them.

JOHN. The Sutton Road ones anyhow. But you know what Meldrum is.

ARIADNE (_brightly_). We are going to get them all, Hector. We are

going to do all Mr. Meldrum’s work for him. Even if he gets mixed up

in a divorce case we are going to act for him.

HESTER. My dear Ariadne!

JOHN. Ariadne’s joking, of course.

HECTOR. _Honi soit_--and so on. Horace is much too careful to get

mixed up in anything of that sort.

HESTER. Anybody else?

ARIADNE. Janet Ingleby.

HESTER. Oh, Janet. And Charlie, I suppose?

ARIADNE. No, not Charlie.

JOHN. We only knew at the last moment that Mr. Meldrum was coming, so

we just got Miss Ingleby to make up the number.

HESTER. Oh, I see.

HECTOR. Charlie will be doing well for himself if that comes off.

I wonder what old Ingleby will cut up for when his time comes. Any

idea, John?

JOHN. Hundred thousand. More.

ARIADNE. Good heavens! We _must_ be nice to Janet.

HECTOR (_profoundly impressed, to_ JOHN). You don’t mean it, you

don’t mean it.

JOHN. I don’t _know_, of course.

ARIADNE (_disappointed_). Oh, aren’t you his solicitor?

JOHN. If I were, dear, I shouldn’t even be able to guess at what he’s

worth.

HECTOR. Professional etiquette, Ariadne. The Law Society would

rap you pretty sharply over the knuckles if you talked about your

client’s affairs in public, eh, John?

JOHN. I can’t imagine a decent solicitor doing it.

HESTER (_to_ ARIADNE). Like doctors and bankers. It wouldn’t do at

all.

HECTOR. Secrets of the confessional. Even in the Law Courts--but I

think that that point hasn’t been decided yet.

ARIADNE (_apologetically_). Oh, I see. But who is the lucky man who

really knows how much Mr. Ingleby will--cut up for?

JOHN. Some London firm. Parkinsons, I think.

HESTER. He’s always been like that. They even run an account at

Harrod’s, Janet tells me.

HECTOR. Uncivic of him. Distinctly uncivic.

ARIADNE. But you must have a local solicitor as well, mustn’t you?

Supposing a dog bit him outside the Town Hall----

JOHN (_considering_). County Court action. Yes, he would then, of

course.

ARIADNE (_with decision_). Then in case a dog bites him, I shall be

very nice to Janet.

HECTOR (_to_ HESTER). What was that? I didn’t quite get that.

HESTER. I don’t think it was very important.

JOHN (_stiffly_). A joke of Ariadne’s.

HECTOR. Well, well, nobody likes a good joke more than I do. Let’s

have it, Ariadne.

ARIADNE. Shall I explain it, John?

JOHN. I hardly think it necessary.

ARIADNE. I am sorry, Hector. You’ll have to imagine it as being

tremendously funny.

_Enter_ MARY.

MARY (_announcing_). Miss Ingleby.

(JANET INGLEBY _is a handsome, rather discontented-looking girl

of 25, with no illusions, a lazily dangerous tongue, and an eye

to business_.)

JANET. Good-evening. (_To_ ARIADNE) How are you, dear? (_Shaking

hands with the others_) I do hope I haven’t come at the wrong moment.

HECTOR (_gallantly_). Could any moment be the wrong moment for a

young and charming lady?

JANET. Easily.

HECTOR (_taken aback_). Oh!

JANET. If I had come in five minutes ago when you were all discussing

me----

JOHN. No, no.

HECTOR. I protest, upon my soul, I protest.

JANET. Am I the last?

ARIADNE. Mr. Meldrum.

JANET. Well, aren’t we all going to discuss _him_ now?

HESTER. My dear Janet, as if we should.

ARIADNE. Of course not. We’ve done it already.

JANET. That’s hardly fair, is it? You ought to have waited for _me_.

JOHN (_with a smile_). We thought perhaps you would rather discuss

Charlie.

HECTOR. Ah, how is my dear friend Charlie?

JANET. Charlie is off.

HECTOR. Dear, dear!

ARIADNE. Oh, Janet! Why?

JANET. Father turned him down.

HESTER. I thought the modern girl didn’t pay any attention to her

father’s views.

JANET. I don’t suppose she does. But, if she’s not a fool, she pays a

good deal of attention to her father’s money.

HECTOR. Dear, dear! And so he threatened to cut you off with the

proverbial shilling.

JANET. Yes. And both Charlie and I felt that a shilling wasn’t enough.

ARIADNE (_reproachfully_). But he wasn’t just marrying you for your

money, dear?

JANET. No, that was the trouble. Father said, “Look here, Janet, if

any enterprising young man comes along who wants a wife and twenty

thousand, to put into his business, I’m ready to talk to him. But

this young fellow isn’t thinking about business at all. You’ll just

fritter the money away between you, and what’s the good of that?”

HECTOR. Yes, I see his point.

JANET. Oh, so do I. You can’t live on the interest of twenty

thousand. You must _do_ something with it. Charlie couldn’t think of

anything.

JOHN. Yes, that’s true enough.

ARIADNE. Well, as long as you aren’t broken-hearted, Janet.

JANET. Oh Lord, no. We had a very good time together, and that’s all

of that.

_Enter_ MARY.

MARY (_announcing_). Mr. Meldrum.

(_Enter_ HORACE--_handsome, if you like that style--dashing, as

far as his weight will allow--a supreme egotist, without a wonder

or a misgiving in him. A bounder undoubtedly, but in the heroic

manner._)

HORACE (_to the company_). Good-evening, good-evening. (_To_ ARIADNE)

Good-evening, dear lady, I trust I am not late, but as I daresay your

husband will have told you, I have a good deal on just now. (_With a

nod_) Evening, John. (_To_ HESTER) Ah, Mrs. Hector! and how has the

world been treating _you_ since I last saw you? Let me see, that was

on Tuesday, wasn’t it? (HESTER _murmurs that it was Monday, but he is

already on his way to_ JANET.) Ah, Miss Janet! I was talking to your

father over the phone only this morning. You’re looking very pretty,

my dear. Got a new way of doing your hair, haven’t you?

JANET. Yes, it is fairly new. _You_ keep to your old way?

HORACE. Ha, ha, very good! I like a young woman to show a bit of

spirit. You’ll get on, my dear. I always told your father so. (_To_

HECTOR) Ah, Hector! Before I forget, come and have a talk with me on

Monday. I’ve got something I can put in your way.

HECTOR. Splendid, splendid, my dear fellow.

HORACE (_taking out his watch and looking at the clock_). Yes, I

thought I wasn’t as late as all that. (_To_ JOHN) You’re a couple of

minutes fast.

JOHN (_a little diffidently_). I don’t think so. I put it right by

the Town Hall clock.

ARIADNE. Yes, we put it right by the Town Hall.

HORACE (_with finality_). A couple of minutes fast.

JOHN. Oh--thank you. (_He goes to the clock and alters it. While he

is doing this_, MARY _comes in_.)

ARIADNE. Dinner, Mary?

MARY. Yes, madam.

ARIADNE. Thank you. (_To the others_) Shall we go in?

(_There is a little natural hesitation near the door on the

point of procedure. True_, HESTER _is a married woman, but

then_ JANET’S _father may cut up for a hundred thousand pounds.

Fortunately_ HORACE _keeps his head_.)

HORACE (_genially_). Ah, shall I go first?

(_He goes first. The others follow. As they go_, JOHN _at the

door turns off the switches. The lamps by the fire are still

alight--good money thrown away. Firmly, without hurrying, he

walks across the room and puts them out; then back again after

the others._)

ACT I

SCENE 2

_The curtain drops--to rise again three hours later._ ARIADNE

_and_ HESTER _are on the sofa_, HESTER _at work on something. The

others are playing bridge._ HORACE (_with him_ JOHN) _is winning;

you can see it by the way he is snapping down the cards_; JANET

_is losing and doesn’t like it_; JOHN _is dummy; and_ HECTOR _for

once is not talking, save for an occasional “Ah!” or “H’m!” or

“You play that.”_

HORACE. The last two are ours. Four tricks. That’s thirty-two below.

That’s the rubber.

ARIADNE. Did you win, Mr. Meldrum?

HORACE. I did, dear lady.

ARIADNE. How clever of you!

HECTOR. You know the old adage, Horace. Lucky at cards, unlucky in

love.

ARIADNE. Oh, I’m sure that doesn’t apply to Mr. Meldrum.

HORACE. I’m sure it doesn’t too.

HESTER. How much have you lost, Hector?

HECTOR. We haven’t worked it out yet, dear.

JANET (_who has been scoring_). Four hundred and seventy--that’s four

and sixpence.

JOHN (_who is also scoring_). Five hundred and two.

HORACE. Five hundred and two, that’s five shillings.

JANET. How do you make that? (_She looks over his shoulder_) You have

given yourself sixteen above, what’s that for?

JOHN. Simple honours.

HECTOR. We had the honours, dear boy.

JANET. Of course we did.

HECTOR. I had the knave.

JANET. And I had the queen and ten. Four and sixpence.

JOHN. Sorry. Four and sixpence.

HORACE (_calmly_). _I_ had the knave.

HECTOR. My dear boy----

JANET. I distinctly remember----

HORACE. _I_ had the knave.

JANET. I _know_ Mr. Chadwick had the knave.

ARIADNE. Does it matter very much who had the knave?

JANET (_to_ HORACE). We’ll turn up the tricks, if you like.

JOHN (_to_ ARIADNE). It just makes the difference, dear.

HECTOR (_to_ JANET). I’m afraid I’ve shuffled the cards now.

HORACE (_getting up_). Five shillings. Well, I’d sooner win it than

lose it.

HECTOR (_getting up and coming over to the sofa_). You see, it’s

either five shillings or four and six, according to who had the knave.

ARIADNE. Dear me! Then you all ought to have watched the poor man

much more carefully.

JANET. I _know_ Mr. Chadwick had it.

HORACE. Well, look here, I tell you what I’ll do, Hector. I’ll toss

you ten shillings or nothing.

HECTOR. Right. (HORACE _spins a coin._) Tails.

HORACE. Heads. My luck’s in.

HECTOR (_making sure it was heads_). Right. (_He takes out a note

which_ HORACE _solemnly tucks away_.)

JANET (_defiantly to_ JOHN). Four and six. (_She gives him the

money._)

JOHN. Thanks. That’s all right.

HORACE. I’ll help myself to another drink if nobody objects.

JOHN. Oh do! Sorry! What about you, Hester?

HESTER. No, thank you.

HORACE. Mrs. John? Can’t I persuade you?

ARIADNE. No, thank you.

HORACE (_humorously_). I can afford it, you know. I’ve won ten

shillings. (ARIADNE _laughs kindly_.) Miss Janet, what about you?

Just to show there is no ill-feeling.

JANET (_still rather ruffled over that sixpence_). Thanks.

HESTER (_getting up_). Well, we ought to be going, I suppose. (_To_

HECTOR) Are you ready?

HECTOR. Yes, dear. Ready, aye ready. (_They say good-byes, and_ JOHN

_goes to the door with them_.) (_To_ JANET) I’m afraid it’s no good

offering you a lift, as you don’t go our way.

ARIADNE (_to_ JANET). Haven’t you got the car, dear?

JANET. Good Lord, no. Father doesn’t waste the car on _me_ like that.

I don’t mind walking. It isn’t far.

HECTOR (_relieved_). Ah well, that’s all right.

JOHN (_from the door_). I’ll see Miss Ingleby home.

JANET. No need to.

JOHN. Of course I will.

ARIADNE (_the perfect wife_). Of course he will! How _is_ your father?

JANET (_not realising how nearly a dog bit him outside the Town

Hall_). Oh, all right. Well then, I’ll say good-night. And thanks

very much.

ARIADNE. Good-night, dear. Sure you are all right?

JANET. Of course. Good-night, Mr. Meldrum.

HORACE. Good-night, Miss Janet. Remember me to your father. I’ll be

round seeing him one of these days, I expect.

JANET (_as she goes out_). Right. I’ll count the spoons.

HORACE. Ha, ha, ha! Smart little devil. I like a girl with spirit.

(_Final good-nights are heard from the hall. Then after a pause

comes “Ready?” from_ JOHN _and “Right” from_ JANET. _After

another pause the front door is heard to shut. During this,_

HORACE _has been staring at_ ARIADNE, _the self-assured stare of

the man who is certain that that is what a pretty woman likes._

ARIADNE _sits demurely on the sofa waiting for him to begin._)

HORACE. I got your message.

ARIADNE. What message was that?

HORACE. The one you are sending me now.

ARIADNE. Am I?

HORACE. Your rose, dear lady.

ARIADNE (_demurely_). Oh!

HORACE. My rose.

ARIADNE (_more demurely_). Oh!

HORACE. Our rose.

ARIADNE (_most demurely_). Oh!

HORACE. How beautiful it looks there. (_Striving for the right

metaphor_) Nesting.

ARIADNE. I didn’t know roses did that.

HORACE. Ariadne’s does. It nests in her bosom like a--like----

ARIADNE. It is difficult, isn’t it? You’ll have to start again.

HORACE (_who has probably had just a little too much whisky_). Like a

dove. Like a little dove. A little pink dove.

ARIADNE. Fancy! I wonder what a pink dove looks like, nesting in a

buttonhole. (_He comes towards her. She takes it out of her dress and

puts it in his buttonhole_) There! It looks just like a rose.

HORACE. Thank you, dear lady. (_He kisses her fingers; then goes back

to his place, and expands himself_) Somehow I never feel properly

dressed until a pretty woman has put a flower in my buttonhole. (_He

stands in front of the fireplace jingling his money._)

ARIADNE. Had a good week?

HORACE. Pretty fair, pretty fair. And a bit more to come to-morrow

morning.

ARIADNE. I suppose I mustn’t ask how much.

HORACE. You’d be surprised if I told you.

ARIADNE. Try me.

HORACE. Not far short of a cool thousand. That’s about what it will

work out at for the week.

ARIADNE. A cool thousand! Fancy. And a bachelor. No wonder you are

always properly dressed.

HORACE. So to-morrow afternoon I am running up to dear old London to

see what Piccadilly Circus looks like.

ARIADNE. On business?

HORACE (_chuckling_). Strictly on business. Strictly on business. And

if anybody asks me what business, I shall say that’s _my_ business.

(_He laughs heartily._)

ARIADNE. Then I shan’t ask you what business.

HORACE. I’d tell _you_, my dear lady. I’m going to see my doctor. Ha,

ha! That’s a good one. My doctor.

ARIADNE. Yes, that’s a good one. I like that one.

HORACE. Joking apart, my dear, I’ll tell you why I’m going to London.

Just for a little bit of fun. Just a little bit of fun after a hard

week’s work. On a Friday night I say to myself sometimes, “Horace,

you’ve been a good boy all the week, and you’ve earned your little

bit of fun.”

ARIADNE. I’m sure you have.

HORACE. That’s what I call going to see my doctor. Doctor Fun I call

him. L. B. Fun.

ARIADNE. What amusing things you say.

HORACE. Little Bitta Fun. L. B. Fun--see it?

ARIADNE. Yes, now I do.

HORACE. Well, that’s what I’m going to London for. Get up in time for

lunch. What about a cosy little lunch at Frascati’s; just as a start?

ARIADNE. Alone?

HORACE. Aha, dear lady, that’s telling.

ARIADNE. Perhaps I oughtn’t to have asked.

HORACE. Well, let’s say not quite alone. A little bit of pink muslin

opposite, with perhaps something inside it.

ARIADNE. What a sweet way of putting it.

HORACE. After lunch--what shall we say? _You_ shall say, dear lady.

ARIADNE. Well--what about the South Kensington Museum?

HORACE (_much amused_). Aha, that’s a good one! A visit to the South

Kensington Museum, tea with the Dean of St. Paul’s, dinner at an

A.B.C., a concert at the Albert Hall, and a snack of something at

Fulham Palace to end up with. Ha, ha, ha! That’s me!

ARIADNE (_pretending to be offended_). I don’t believe you’re

serious. You’re laughing at me.

HORACE. Laughing at you? Bless my soul, whatever put that into your

pretty little head? Look in at the South Kensington Museum at three

o’clock to-morrow, and you will find your humble servant talking to

the head keeper.

ARIADNE. I’ve a good mind to take you at your word, and look in at

three o’clock.

HORACE (_coming closer to her_). Why don’t you?

ARIADNE. I shan’t have time, I’m afraid. I’m catching the 3.10 back.

HORACE. Back? Are _you_ going to London to-morrow?

ARIADNE. Yes.

HORACE. Fancy that. Alone?

ARIADNE. I don’t know yet.

HORACE. When will you know?

ARIADNE. Perhaps in a minute or two.

HORACE (_joining her on the sofa_). How very curious that you should

be going to London to-morrow--too.

ARIADNE. That’s what John said.

HORACE (_doubtfully_). John? So John said that. Why did John say that?

ARIADNE. He said that it was cheaper to go on Wednesday.

HORACE (_relieved_). Oh, I see! But only if you go third class.

ARIADNE. But then I always do.

HORACE. Poor little woman, what a shame!

ARIADNE. Why? It’s much more amusing.

HORACE. If you are alone, perhaps----

ARIADNE. Oh, you are never alone third class.

HORACE (_getting very close_). But for two it’s much more amusing

first class.

ARIADNE. Is it?

HORACE. Particularly if the guard is a friend of yours.

ARIADNE. Oh?

HORACE. He’s a very great friend of mine.

ARIADNE. Oh!

HORACE. It’s funny we should both be going to London to-morrow, isn’t

it?

ARIADNE. But we mightn’t both be going by the same train.

HORACE. Ah!... What train are you going by?

ARIADNE. The 10.15.

HORACE (_disappointed_). Oh! That’s a pity.

ARIADNE. Why?

HORACE. I can’t get away before the 12.5. There’s a bit of business

I’ve got to see to----

ARIADNE (_demurely_). I think I _am_ going first class.

HORACE (_considering_). It may mean a matter of a hundred pounds----

ARIADNE. Or aren’t there any first-class carriages on the 10.15 train?

HORACE (_making up his mind_). No, dammit, one can’t throw away good

business just for a bit of fun.

ARIADNE. Not even if it wore pink muslin?

HORACE (_slapping his knee_). That’s it! You do your shopping or

whatever it is, and I’ll come up later, call for you wherever you

like, and we’ll have that little lunch at Frascati’s. How’s that?

I’ll be with you at half-past one.

ARIADNE. Well, of course, I do like something to eat about then.

HORACE. Right! That’s a bet! Where do I pick you up?

ARIADNE. Well, I shall be at my club----

HORACE (_jovially contemptuous_). Your club! You women and your

clubs! But bless you, in spite of your votes and your clubs and your

cigarettes, you are just the same women under your clothes as Eve was

before you. And, thank God, you always will be.

ARIADNE. Yes, but that isn’t the address of the club. Or don’t you

want to know the address?

HORACE. Well, give us the name. I suppose the cabman will know where

it is.

ARIADNE. The United Arts.

HORACE (_whipping out his pencil and writing on his cuff_). A. W.

United Arts, 1.30.

ARIADNE (_watching him_). What an interesting time your laundress

must have.

HORACE. Naturally, I never put any business secrets there. (_He puts

back his pencil._)

ARIADNE. A very wise distinction.

HORACE. One-thirty at the United Arts. And now what about that train

back?

ARIADNE. Which one?

HORACE. Exactly, which one?

ARIADNE. _I’m_ catching the 3.10.

HORACE. But that makes it such a very little bit of fun.

ARIADNE. I think John will expect me----

HORACE. Not if you tell him you are coming by a later one.

ARIADNE. Is there a later one?

HORACE. There’s one about five.

ARIADNE. I don’t think I know that one.

HORACE. It isn’t a very good one. There’s a better one about eight.

ARIADNE. It seems a much later one.

HORACE. But the best of them all is the 10.45.

ARIADNE. Why is that the best of them all?

HORACE. I would try to explain why--before we caught it.

ARIADNE. It seems a very long explanation.

HORACE. You wouldn’t be bored.

ARIADNE. Attractive man!

HORACE. Adorable woman!

ARIADNE. You seem very certain of yourself.

HORACE. It isn’t difficult to entertain a pretty woman.

ARIADNE. Experienced man!

HORACE. Well, yes, I’ve knocked about a bit.

ARIADNE. But all women like that, don’t they?

HORACE. They do, you may take my word for it.

ARIADNE. I don’t think I shall go to London to-morrow.

HORACE. Oh yes, you will.

ARIADNE. Well, perhaps I will.

HORACE. Of course you will.

ARIADNE. But I shall come back by the 3 train.

HORACE. Oh no, you won’t.

ARIADNE. Well, perhaps I won’t.

HORACE. Of course you won’t.

ARIADNE. Masterful man!

HORACE. I know how to manage women, bless their pretty little faces.

ARIADNE. I can see you do.

HORACE. Now, let’s be practical.

ARIADNE. Businesslike.

HORACE. You can’t be shopping in London till ten o’clock at night;

you’ll have to say you’ve been called away suddenly--to a sick

relative.

ARIADNE. Why are sick people always supposed to want their relations

so badly? I never want anybody when I’m looking my worst.

HORACE. Have you got any relations?

ARIADNE. Heaps--and all John’s.

HORACE. Any in London of your own?

ARIADNE. An uncle. I was telling Hester about him. He lost his liver

in Burmah. He’s touchy about it now.

HORACE. Well, there you are; he’s ill. D’you see? You leave a note

to-morrow to say you’ve just been rung up as you were starting to the

station. Uncle dying. May not be back till late. See?

ARIADNE. I see. Isn’t it rather deceitful?

HORACE. Little bit of fun. What’s the harm in a little bit of fun?

ARIADNE. True. You mustn’t think I haven’t got a sense of humour.

HORACE. Well then, you see, it doesn’t matter _what_ time you come

back. Your ground’s prepared ... even if----(_He hesitates._)

ARIADNE. Well?

HORACE. Even if--(_very softly_)--we found a better train than the

10.45.

ARIADNE. But I thought you said that that was the best?

HORACE. The best--on Saturday night.

ARIADNE (_looking at him thoughtfully_). Do you know you’re a

very wonderful man? (HORACE _laughs comfortably_.) Even I--hardly

realised----(_He leans towards her. She gets up hastily._)

HORACE. What is it?

ARIADNE. John. I heard the door.

HORACE (_getting up_). One-thirty. (_He kisses his hand to her._)

JOHN _comes in._

ARIADNE. How quick you’ve been!

HORACE. Well, I must be getting along.

ARIADNE. Oh no! Must you?

JOHN. Have another drink?

HORACE. No thanks, my boy. (_To_ ARIADNE) Afraid I must, Mrs. John.

Got a lot to do to-morrow. (_Holding out his hand_) Good-bye--and

thank you for a _most_ delightful evening.

ARIADNE. Good-night. I’ve enjoyed it too, you know.

HORACE. How nice of you! (_To_ JOHN) No, don’t bother.

(_But_ JOHN _insists on seeing his most important client out.

Alone_, ARIADNE _drops into the sofa with the evening paper_.)

JOHN (_coming back_). Well! It wasn’t so bad after all, was it? (_He

pours himself out a drink._)

ARIADNE (_reading her paper_). Not so bad.

JOHN. Did you get on with Meldrum all right?

ARIADNE. Quite all right, John.

JOHN (_with a sigh of relief_). That’s good.

(_He drinks._)

ACT II

_Saturday. About five o’clock._ HESTER _and_ HECTOR _are outside;

we hear their voices_. MARY _is telling them that her mistress is

out. She opens the door, and they come in._

HESTER. Oh! Then will you tell your master we’re here?

MARY. Yes, madam. I think he’s just come in.

HESTER. Where has your mistress gone?

MARY. She has gone up to London, madam.

HESTER. London!

MARY. Yes, madam.

HESTER. When do you expect her back?

MARY. She didn’t say, madam. She had a dressing-case with her, but

she didn’t say she was staying the night.

HESTER. A dressing-case!

MARY. Yes, madam. I’ll tell the master you’re here.

[_She goes out._

HESTER. London. She didn’t say anything about London last night, did

she?

HECTOR. Nothing. It’s very odd.

HESTER. I wonder if----

HECTOR. What?

HESTER. She was telling us after dinner, before you came in, that her

uncle----

HECTOR. The General?

HESTER. Yes--was suffering from indigestion very badly. We happened

to be talking about illnesses.

HECTOR. You think that a sudden fatal stroke--fatal spasm, perhaps I

should say----

HESTER. Being Saturday it looks like something urgent.

HECTOR. Evidently.

HESTER. If it had been Wednesday, it wouldn’t have been so surprising.

HECTOR. The General, no doubt.... I suppose he’s pretty comfortably

off?

HESTER. He has his pension, of course.

HECTOR. But that would die with him. Anything to leave? Anything to

come in Ariadne’s direction?

HESTER. I shouldn’t think so. She would have told us.

HECTOR. Ariadne’s queer in some ways. It would be just like her not

to have said anything about it.

(HESTER _sees the letter on the mantelpiece_.)

HESTER. Ah, there you are!

HECTOR. What?

HESTER. A note for John. (_She picks it up._)

HECTOR. From Ariadne?

HESTER. Yes. Called away suddenly, you see.

HECTOR (_going up to examine the envelope_). Now what would you say

that meant? (_He gives the matter his full consideration._) I see it

like this. If the General’s attack had actually been fatal, she would

have rung John up at his office.

HESTER. He would have gone with her in that case.

HECTOR. That may be. He is very busy just now. The point is that she

would have rung him up. Leaving a note makes it clear that, whatever

has happened to the General, it is no more than a preliminary warning.

HESTER (_looking at the envelope_). Sprawly handwriting.

(JOHN _comes in, and they back hastily away from the letter_.)

JOHN. Hullo!

HESTER. Ah, here you are.

(JOHN _kisses her and shakes hands solemnly with_ HECTOR.)

JOHN. Didn’t expect you to-day. I had to go over to Handfield. Only

just got back.

HESTER. I’ve heard of a cook for Ariadne--so I just----

HECTOR. I thought I’d just walk round with her, and pass the time of

day.

HESTER. She’s gone to London, I hear.

JOHN. Yes.

HECTOR. No bad news from the General, I trust.

JOHN. The General?

HECTOR. We supposed that she must have been called away suddenly.

JOHN. Oh no. Shopping!

HESTER. On a Saturday?

JOHN. She particularly wanted to go. I suggested that she should wait

till Wednesday.

HECTOR. Exactly! That was what misled us.

HESTER. But the shops would be shut on Saturday afternoon....

Besides, why stay the night?

JOHN (_surprised_). But she’s not staying the night.

HESTER. Oh, well, Mary said----

HECTOR. Her dressing-case----

HESTER. There’s a note for you.

JOHN. What? Oh yes! (_He goes to it._) She caught a very early train.

HESTER. Oh, well! But it’s a funny day to go.

HECTOR (_taking out his pocket time-table_). The 10.15, I suppose.

Let me see, if she caught the 10.15--they’ve altered it now. It used

to run into King’s Cross at---- Here we are--10.15. Runs into King’s

Cross at----

JOHN. Good God!

HESTER. What is it, John?

HECTOR (_resigned_). Ah! He _is_ dead.

JOHN. It’s impossible!

HECTOR. Not impossible, my dear boy. Inevitable, alas! But none the

less distressing.

JOHN. Ariadne!

HESTER. What is it, John? Let me look. (_She takes the letter from

him._)

JOHN. It’s ridiculous!

HECTOR. Well, but what is it, my dear boy? (_Trying to get at the

letter_) May I----

HESTER. Good gracious!

HECTOR. May I be allowed----

HESTER. Had you any idea of this?

JOHN. Is it likely?

HECTOR. Might I----

HESTER. But _why_?

JOHN. Why, indeed!

HECTOR. _Might_ I be allowed---- (_He gets the letter at last. They

watch him reading it._) Merciful heavens!

JOHN. I don’t believe it.

HECTOR. My old friend Horace Meldrum!

HESTER. She doesn’t actually say Mr. Meldrum.

HECTOR. True. Let us be fair. She just says Horace. “Horace and I are

going into the unknown together. Do not try to follow us.” But if it

is not Horace Meldrum, who can it be?

HESTER (_to_ JOHN). Did she know any other Horace?

HECTOR. There _are_ no other Horaces.

JOHN. Not that I know of. But it can’t be Meldrum. That’s impossible.

HECTOR (_turning over the letter_). Ah, a postscript! This may throw

more light on the matter.

JOHN. A postscript?

HESTER (_trying to look over his shoulder_). I didn’t see that.

HECTOR. “P.S. I am putting this against the clock so that you will be

sure to see it.” That, at any rate, shows thoughtfulness.

JOHN (_bitterly_). Ha! (_To_ HECTOR) Here, give it me! (_He takes the

letter._)

HESTER. Why do you say it can’t be Mr. Meldrum?

JOHN. She hates him. She told me so only yesterday.

HESTER. Ah!

HECTOR. Hate and love! You know what the old adage says. Love and

Hate--I forget the actual wording.

JOHN (_fiercely_). I tell you she hated him. She thought he was a

bounder.

HECTOR (_staggered_). My old friend Horace Meldrum a bounder!

JOHN. A bounder, I tell you! A cad! That’s not love!

HESTER. It might be deception.

HECTOR. You think she was just throwing dust in his eyes? It may be

so.

JOHN (_going to the door_). I’ll ring up Meldrum now. I’ll prove it

to you----

HECTOR (_suddenly_). John! My poor John!

JOHN (_turning back at the door_). What?

HECTOR. To think that it should have escaped my memory!

HESTER. What? You never told me.

HECTOR. How can I have been so foolish! I called in to see Horace

Meldrum earlier this afternoon on a small matter of business----

JOHN (_eagerly_). Well?

HECTOR. I was told that he had gone to London.

JOHN. Good God!

HESTER. Are you sure, Hector?

HECTOR. My dear, how can I be mistaken now that it comes back to me?

HESTER. Well, that’s odd certainly.

JOHN. Perhaps Ariadne didn’t go herself, after all. Perhaps she has

just gone out somewhere in the town.

HESTER. Mary told us she had gone to London.

JOHN. Did she?... What were you saying about a dressing-case?

HECTOR. Taking, according to Mary, a dressing-case with her.

HESTER. Why should she do that?

HECTOR. And not on a Wednesday, mark you, but a Saturday!

HESTER. On the excuse of doing some shopping.

JOHN. Mary told you, you say. Well, I’ll make sure of that anyway.

(_He strides across the room and rings the bell._)

HECTOR. Steady, dear boy, steady!

HESTER. Don’t bring the servants into it until you have to, John.

JOHN. Yes, that’s true.... But I’ve rung.

HECTOR (_holding up a large white hand_). Allow me to deal with it.

[_He goes out and is heard dealing with it._

HESTER. I’m always so frightened of the servants knowing anything.

HECTOR (_outside_). Have you--ah, it’s all right, thank you. I

thought I had mislaid a small parcel. Yes, that was all, thank you.

(_He comes in with a brown paper bag which he puts down_) Don’t

let me forget that, dear, when we go. (_To_ JOHN) A small pine for

dessert to-morrow.

HESTER. Well, they both went to London. That seems certain.

JOHN. Why shouldn’t they both go to London?

HECTOR. Why not? But you have her letter, and you have the

corroborative evidence of the dressing-case and the absence of

Meldrum. We must reconcile ourselves to the facts.

JOHN. The letter, yes. (_He reads it again._)

HESTER. What is it she says about some disagreement with you?

HECTOR. Yes, she brought _me_ into it there.

HESTER (_taking the letter_). May I? (_Reading it_) Yes, this. “We

are poles asunder, as Hector would say, on the most vitally important

thing in life.”

HECTOR. Why as _I_ would say? I don’t recollect ever using the phrase.

HESTER. The most vitally important thing in life. (_Giving him back

the letter_) What was that, John?

HECTOR. Some money trouble? The question of her allowance?

JOHN. No, no. She knows I never grudged her anything. This comes out

of a clear sky.

HECTOR. I understand, my dear fellow; a thunderbolt from the blue.

JOHN. There was the usual give and take of married life, of course.

But she was happy. You saw her last night. Wouldn’t you have said she

was as happy as--well, as anybody else?

HESTER. She seemed much as usual, certainly.

(_There is a short silence._)

JOHN (_suddenly_). Why, of course!

HESTER. What?

JOHN. That letter.

HECTOR. You have it.

JOHN. No, the one he wrote to her.

HESTER. When? You haven’t told us of this.

JOHN. Last night--he sent those flowers and a letter.

HECTOR. Flowers and a letter! Now we are getting to something

tangible. What did the letter say?

JOHN. I didn’t read it.

HESTER. Well, but she may have left it somewhere.

JOHN (_awkwardly_). No. I--she tore it up.

HESTER. In here?

JOHN. Yes. (_He goes to the basket, looks in it, then rings the

bell_) Cleared away, of course.

HESTER. John, what are you doing?

HECTOR. Steady, dear boy, steady.

JOHN. They have the waste paper in the kitchen, I suppose. What

happens to it?

HESTER. But you can’t ask the servants about a torn-up letter.

JOHN. Why not? A business letter accidentally thrown away----

HESTER. No, no! It’s so--you can’t. They will guess.

JOHN. They’ll guess soon enough if every time I ring the bell I have

to send out Hector to make an excuse for it.

HESTER (_proudly_). Hector will think of something _without_ going

out this time.

HECTOR. Er--yes--er----(_The door opens and he hastily whispers to_

JOHN.)

MARY. Did you ring, sir?

JOHN. A whisky and soda for Mr. Chadwick.

MARY. Yes, sir.

[_She goes out._

HECTOR (_apologetically_). On the spur of the moment, and seeing what

a warm day it is----

HESTER. In any case, John, she saw him last night. Were they alone

together after we’d gone?

JOHN (_reluctantly_). Ye--yes. I saw Janet home, you know.

HESTER. Of course. Then there you are!

(_They are all silent, thinking._ JOHN _looks at his watch and

automatically looks at the clock_.)

HECTOR (_keeping all their spirits up_). The old clock keeping pretty

good time? (_But, for once, nobody minds._)

JOHN (_suddenly_). I shall go to London.

HECTOR. Ah!

HESTER. What can you do there?

JOHN. Make inquiries at her club. Something. Anything.

HECTOR. Her club. Come! This gives us a starting-point. We must

explore every avenue. Her club. (_He thinks._)

HESTER (_for it still rankles_). Why did she ever want a club--in

London?

JOHN. She said she was going to lunch there. I could find that out

anyhow.

HECTOR (_with great presence of mind_). Tsss! (MARY _is coming in

with the whisky. He hurries forward to take charge of it._) Thank

you. (_Bottle in hand_) John?

[MARY _goes out_.

JOHN. No, no.

HECTOR (_pouring himself out one_). You won’t mind if _I_ do? You

won’t think it unfeeling?

HESTER. Of course not, Hector, how could he think so?

HECTOR (_raising glass_). I can only say, in the most profound

meaning of the phrase--Here’s luck!

JOHN. I can catch the--what is it--5.30?

HECTOR (_dropping his glass and whipping out his time-table_). Just a

moment. 5.29, isn’t it?

HESTER. It seems so hopeless.

JOHN. Good God! What else can I do? Must do something.

HECTOR (_proudly_). 5.29, I thought so.

HESTER. Suppose you find them together?

JOHN. I’ll break his damned neck for him.

HESTER. No, no, John, nothing rash.

HECTOR (_still on the 5.29_). John was speaking metaphorically, dear.

HESTER. Hadn’t Hector better go with you?

HECTOR. I am at your service, my dear fellow. Very fortunate that

it has all happened at a week-end. There are no rival claims of

business. The 5.29 runs in at----

JOHN. No, no, I can’t bother Hector.

HECTOR. It would be a pleasure--a melancholy pleasure. I shall engage

Horace Meldrum in conversation, while you----

JOHN. While I break his neck.

HECTOR. I was going to say, “While you reason with Ariadne.” ... Runs

in at....

JOHN. Put it how you like. Only for God’s sake come on.

(_He takes_ HECTOR’S _arm and marches him to the door. The door

opens and_ ARIADNE _comes in_. JOHN _and_ HECTOR _draw back in

amazement_.)

JOHN (_carried away for the moment_). Ariadne! My darling!

ARIADNE. John!

HECTOR. Well, well, well!

JOHN (_sternly, remembering that he is an injured husband_). Where

have you been?

HECTOR. You may well ask!

ARIADNE. Running away from you, John.

JOHN. Then what are you doing here now?

ARIADNE. I have come back to you, John. (_She sits down._)

JOHN (_angry at the fright he has had_). It was just a joke, was it,

your letter?

HECTOR. A joke in very doubtful taste. In more than doubtful taste.

HESTER. If it _was_ a joke.

ARIADNE (_looking at them_). You have shown them my letter?

HECTOR. We know all.

JOHN. What could I--they were here. Do you think I can read a letter

like that, and put it calmly in my pocket, as if nothing had happened?

ARIADNE. No, no, of course not, dear.

HESTER. Dear!

HECTOR. Have you any right to call him “dear,” that is the question.

ARIADNE (_reproachfully_). I only ran away this morning, Hector.

HECTOR. True, true. Nothing could have----Quite so, quite so.

JOHN. You _have_ been to London?

ARIADNE. Yes.

JOHN. And why have you come back now?

ARIADNE. He missed his train.

JOHN. Who?

ARIADNE. The gentleman I was running away with.

HECTOR. Meldrum. My old friend Horace Meldrum.

JOHN (_fiercely_). Was it Meldrum? Where is Meldrum?

ARIADNE. He missed his train.

JOHN. What do you mean? You say here in your letter----(_He turns it

over, trying to find the place._)

ARIADNE. Let me find it for you, dear.

JOHN (_refusing her offer_). Here it is. “Horace and I,” that’s

Meldrum?

ARIADNE. Of course. (_Surprised_) You haven’t any other friends

called Horace?

HECTOR. The very point I made. Do you remember, Hester?

JOHN. “Horace and I are going into the unknown together. Do not try

to follow us.”

ARIADNE. Yes, that’s right.

JOHN. Well?

ARIADNE. Darling, I keep telling you. He missed his train. The 12.5.

HECTOR (_as if he now understood it all_). The 12.5. Ah! (_He nods

his head solemnly. A dangerous train._)

JOHN. But I don’t see----

ARIADNE. When you arrange to go into the unknown with a woman by

a certain train, you can’t just go and _miss_ the train. It’s so

careless.

HESTER. You could have gone by the next.

ARIADNE (_carelessly_). I expect he did. I daresay he is searching

London for me now.... Ring the bell, Hector, will you? I am dying for

some tea.

HECTOR (_indignantly_). Tea! (_But he rings the bell._)

ARIADNE (_sweetly_). I’ve been going backwards and forwards all day.

JOHN. I am afraid I am still very stupid. Meldrum, as I understand

it, was to have gone with you to London by the 12.5 train?

ARIADNE. No, no. I had gone by the 10.15. He was to come up later and

call for me at my club.

HECTOR. Her club. You see, Hester, we were right to make that the

starting-point.

JOHN. And he was coming up by the 12.5?

ARIADNE. Yes. Only he missed it.

HECTOR. Presumably he was detained by some business----

ARIADNE. Presumably. (_Enter_ MARY.) Tea, please, Mary. (_To them

all_) Have you had any?

HESTER. Is it likely?

HECTOR. Tsss! (_He indicates the maid._)

ARIADNE. You waited for me. How nice of you! Tea for four.

MARY. Yes, madam.

[_She goes out._

ARIADNE. I am sorry, dear. You were saying that Horace was probably

detained by business.

JOHN. Well?

ARIADNE. Well, you see, if a man is detained by business when you are

going to watch a cricket match with him, that doesn’t matter so much,

but if he is detained by business when you are running away with

him--well, ask Hester.

HECTOR. My dear lady!

HESTER (_coldly_). I have never run away from my husband.

ARIADNE. But you must often have wanted to. I am sorry, Hector,

but--_any_ husband.... (_To_ HESTER) How would you feel if just as

you had worked yourself up to it, you got a telegram “Missed train.”

Just like that. “Missed train.” It’s so--so uncomplimentary. Wouldn’t

you feel that if he had really loved you, he would have run the whole

way to London _behind_ the train, rather than waste a moment sending

telegrams?

JOHN. That’s absurd.

ARIADNE. Oh, of course, if you are going to stand up for him----

JOHN (_indignantly_). I am doing nothing of the sort! I merely say----

ARIADNE. And I merely say that when you are running away with a woman

it’s an insult to her to miss the train.

HECTOR. He might have only _just_ missed it.

ARIADNE. Then he should have taken a special, shouldn’t he, Hester?

HESTER (_unwillingly_). Well, certainly, it would have shown a

more----

ARIADNE. There you are! Hester feels just as I do.

HESTER (_indignantly_). I feel nothing of the sort!

ARIADNE (_coaxingly_). A little bit.

HECTOR. A special! Do you know how much a special costs?

ARIADNE. Ah, now we’re talking! How much does a special cost, John?

JOHN (_absently_). Fifty pounds? (_Furiously_) I don’t know! (_This

is not in the least how he had meant the scene to go._)

ARIADNE. I thought solicitors knew all those things.

HECTOR. Every penny of fifty pounds!

ARIADNE. And what am I worth? About twenty? Oh, ridiculous of him to

have taken a special! Most unbusiness-like. Ariadne’s one thing, but

fifty _pounds_!

JOHN (_now entirely lost_). Really! I don’t think----

HECTOR (_warningly_). Tsss! (MARY _comes in to prepare the tea_.

HECTOR _becomes tactful_.) You came back by the 3.10, I suppose? Did

you have a good day’s shopping?

ARIADNE (_smiling to herself_). I did all I wanted.

HESTER. Such a good train, the 3.10.

HECTOR. I always say it’s the best down train we have.

ARIADNE. I say it a good deal, but not so often as that.

HECTOR. Excellent train, don’t you think so, John?

ARIADNE. The 12.5 is a very good train _up_ to London--if you can

catch it.

HECTOR (_uncomfortably_). Quite so, quite so.

(MARY _has now gone_.)

ARIADNE. Let’s see, where were we?

HESTER. She’ll be coming in again directly with the tea.

ARIADNE. What shall we do? Go on talking about trains till she comes

in and goes out again, or go on now, and then get back to the trains

when----

JOHN (_sharply_). What do the servants know? What did you say to them

when you went off this morning?

ARIADNE. Just that I was going up to London to do a little shopping.

HECTOR. Ah! the very impression I was endeavouring to give Mary just

now.

JOHN. Shopping with a dressing-case?

ARIADNE. Well, I might have been taking a dress up to be cleaned or

something. Mightn’t I, Hester?

HESTER. They wouldn’t have guessed anything yet. But servants always

know the sort of woman you are. You can never hide _that_ from them.

ARIADNE. Only from husbands.

JOHN. Well, if they don’t know, that’s something to start with. I was

afraid----

HECTOR (_always ready_). Tsss!

MARY _comes in with the tea_.

ARIADNE (_with an air_). I went up by the 10.15. Another good train.

HECTOR. I always say that the few trains we have are _good_. Only

what we want is _more_. Quantity as well as quality.

ARIADNE. How true!

HECTOR. When you get into Parliament, John, you’ll have to see to

that.

ARIADNE. Thank you, Mary.