VOICE FROM THE UNSEEN. What the blanky blank, &c.
PEACOCK. There _is_ suthin in front, M'm. A van, from 'is langwich,
M'm.
MRS. F. (_sinking back_). Marmaduke, this is awful. I'd no idea the fog
was like this--or I should never have----(_With temper._) Really, people
have no _right_ to ask one out on such a night.
MR. F. (_with the common sense that makes him "so aggravating at
times"_). Well, Fanny, you could hardly expect 'em to foresee the
weather three weeks ahead!
MRS. F. At all events, _you_ might have seen what it was going to be as
you came home from the Temple. Then we could have sent a telegram!
MR. F. It seemed to be lifting then, and besides, I--ah--regard a
dinner-engagement as a species of kindly social contract, not to be
broken except under pressing necessity.
MRS. F. You mean you heard me say there was nothing but cold meat in the
house, and you know you'll get a good dinner at the Cordon-Blewitts,--not
that we are likely to get there to-night. Have you any idea whereabouts
we are?
MR. F. (_calmly_). None whatever.
MRS. F. Then ask Peacock.
MR. F. (_lets down his window, and leans out_). Peacock!
THE SHADOW. Sir?
MR. F. Where have we got to now?
PEACOCK. I ain't rightly sure, Sir.
MRS. F. Tell him to turn round, and go home.
MR. F. It's no use going on like this. Turn back.
PEACOCK. I dursn't leave the kerb--all I got to go by, Sir.
MR. F. Then take one of the lamps, and lead the horse.
PEACOCK. It's the _young_ 'orse, Sir.
MR. F. (_sinking back_). We must put up with it, I suppose.
[_A smart crack is heard at the back of the carriage._
MORE VOICES. Now, then, why the blanky dash, &c., &c.
MRS. F. Marmaduke, I can't sit here, and know that a bus-pole may come
between us at any moment. Let us get out, and take a cab home at once.
MR. F. There's only one objection to that suggestion--viz., that it's
perfectly impossible to tell a cab from a piano-organ. We must find out
where we are first, and then turn. Peacock, drive on as well as you can,
and stop when you come to a shop.
MRS. F. What do you want to stop at a shop for?
MR. F. Why, then I can go in, and ask where we _are_.
MRS. F. And how do you expect _them_ to know where we are! (_She sees a
smear of light in the distance._) Marmaduke, there's a linkman. Get out
quick, and hire him to lead the way.
MR. F. (_who gets out, and follows in the direction of the light,
grumbling to himself_). Hallo!--not past the park yet--here's the
railings! Well, if I keep close to them, I shall--(_He suddenly collides
with a bench_). Phew! Oh, confound it! (_He rubs his shins._) Now, if it
hadn't been for Fanny, I--Where's that linkman? Hi!--you there!--stop!
(THE LIGHT STOPS.) Look here--I want you to come to my carriage, and
show my man the way out of this!
VOICE FROM BEHIND THE RAILINGS. We got to find our _own_ way out fust,
Guv'nor. We're _inside_!
A BELATED REVELLER (_lurching up to_ MR. F.) Beg your pardon, bur cou'
you dreck me nearesht way--er--Dawshon Plashe?
MR. F. (_savagely_). First turning to the right, third to the left, and
then straight on till you come to it!
THE B. R. I'm exsheedingly 'blished; (_confidentially_) fact ish, I'm
shuffrin' shli' 'fection eyeshi', an' I 'shure you, can't shee anyshing
dishtingly to-ni'. (_He cannons against a lamp-post, to which he clings
affectionately, as a Policeman emerges from the gloom._)
POLICEMAN. Now then, what are you doing 'ere, eh?
THE B. R. Itsh all ri', P'lishman, thish gerrilman--(_patting lamp-post
affectionately_)--has kindly promished shee me home.
MR. F. Hang it! Where's Peacock and the brougham? (_He discovers a
phantom vehicle by the kerb, and gets in angrily._) Now, look here, my
dear, it's no earthly good--!
OCCUPANT OF THE BROUGHAM. (_who is not_ FANNY). Coward, touch a
defenceless woman if you dare! I have nothing on me of any value. Help!
Police!
[MR. F., _seeing that explanation is useless, lets himself out again,
precipitately, dodges the_ POLICEMAN, _and bolts, favoured by the fog,
until all danger of pursuit is passed, at the end of which time he
suddenly realizes that it is perfectly hopeless to attempt to find his
own carriage again_. _He gropes his way home, and some hours later,
after an extemporised cold supper, is rejoined by his Wife._
MRS. F. (_cheerfully_). So _there_ you are, Marmaduke! I wasn't
anxious--I felt sure you'd find your way back somehow!
MR. F. (_not in the best of tempers_). Find my way back! It was the only
thing I could do. But where have _you_ been all this time, Fanny?
MRS. F. Where? Why, at the Blewitts, to be sure. You see, after you got
out, we had to keep moving on, and by and by the fog got better, and we
could see where we were going to,--and the Blewitts had put off dinner
half an hour, so I was not so _very_ late. Such a _nice_ dinner!
Everybody turned up except _you_, Marmaduke--but I _told_ them how it
was. Oh, and old Lady Horehound was there, and said a man had actually
got into her brougham, and tried to wrench off one of her most valuable
bracelets!--only she spoke to him so severely that he was struck with
remorse, or something, and got out again! And it was by the Park,
_close_ to where you left me. Just fancy, Marmaduke, he might have got
into the carriage with _me_, instead!
MR. F. (_gloomily_). Yes, he _might_--only, he--er--_didn't_, you know!