+Podbury Kisses the Rod.+
SCENE--_On the Lagoons._ CULCHARD _and_ PODBURY'S _gondola is nearing
Venice. The apricot-tinted diaper on the facade of the Ducal Palace is
already distinguishable, and behind its battlements the pearl-grey domes
of St. Mark's shimmer in the warm air._ CULCHARD _and_ PODBURY _have
hardly exchanged a sentence as yet. The former has just left off
lugubriously whistling as much as he can remember of "Che faro," the
latter is still humming "The Dead March in Saul," although in a
livelier manner than at first_.
CULCH. Well, my dear Podbury, our--er--expedition has turned out rather
disastrously!
PODB. (_suspending the_ "_Dead March_," _chokily_). Not much mistake
about _that_--but there, it's no good talking about it. Jolly that brown
and yellow sail looks on the fruit barge there. See?
CULCH. (_sardonically_). Isn't it a little late in the day to be
cultivating an eye for colour? I was about to say that those two girls
have treated us infamously. I say deliberately, my dear Podbury,
_infamously_!
PODB. Now drop it, Culchard, do you hear? I won't hear a word against
either of them. It serves us jolly well right for not knowing our own
minds better--though I no more dreamed that old Bob would----Oh, hang
it, I can't talk about it yet!
CULCH. That's childishness, my dear fellow; you _ought_ to talk about
it--it will do you good. And really, I'm not at all sure, after all,
that we have not both of us had a fortunate escape. One is very apt
to--er--overrate the fascinations of persons one meets abroad. Now
neither of those two was _quite_----
PODB. (_desperately_). Take care! I swear I'll pitch you out of this
gondola, unless you stop that jabber!
CULCH. (_with wounded dignity_). I am willing to make allowance for your
state of mind, Podbury, but such an expression as--as _jabber_, applied
to my--er--well-meant attempts at consolation, and just as I was about
to propose an arrangement--really, it's _too_ much! The moment we reach
the hotel, I will relieve you from any further infliction from
(_bitterly_) what you are pleased to call my "jabber"!
PODB. (_sulkily_). Very well--I'm sure _I_ don't care! (_To himself._)
Even old Culchard won't have anything to do with me now! I must have
_somebody_ to talk to--or I shall go off my head! (_Aloud._) I say, old
_chap_! (_No answer._) Look here--it's bad enough as it is without _our_
having a row! Never mind anything I said.
CULCH. I _do_ mind--I _must_. I am not accustomed to hear myself called
a--a _jabberer_!
PODB. I _didn't_ call you a jabberer--I only said you _talked_ jabber.
I--I hardly know what I _do_ say, when I'm like this. And I'm deuced
sorry I spoke--there!
CULCH. (_relaxing_). Well, do you withdraw jabber?
PODB. Certainly, old chap. I _like_ you to talk, only not--not against
Her, you know! What were you going to propose?
CULCH. Well, my idea was this. My leave is practically unlimited--at
least, without vanity, I think I may say that my Chief sufficiently
appreciates my services not to make a fuss about a few extra days. So I
thought I'd just run down to Florence and Naples, and perhaps catch a P.
& O. at Brindisi. I suppose _you're_ not tied to time in any way?
PODB. (_dolefully_). Free as a bird! If the Governor had wanted me back
in the City, he'd have let me know it. Well?
CULCH. Well, if you like to come with me, I--I shall be very pleased to
have your company.
PODB. (_considering_). I don't care if I do--it may cheer me up a bit.
Florence, eh?--and Naples? I shouldn't mind a look at Florence. Or Rome.
How about Rome, now?
CULCH. (_to himself_). Was I wise to expose myself to this sort of thing
_again_? I'm almost sorry I----(_Aloud._) My dear fellow, if we are to
travel together in any sort of comfort, you must leave all details to
_me_. And there's one thing I _do_ insist on. In future we must keep to
our original resolution--not to be drawn into any chance
acquaintanceship. I don't want to reproach you, but if, when we were
first at Brussels, you had not allowed yourself to get so intimate with
the Trotters all this would never----
PODB. (_exasperated_). There you go again! I can't stand being jawed at,
Culchard, and I won't!
CULCH. I am no more conscious of "jawing" than "jabbering," and if
_that_ is how I am to be spoken to----!
PODB. I know. Look here, it's no use. You must go to Florence by
yourself. I simply don't feel up to it, and that's the truth. I shall
just potter about here till--till _they_ go.
CULCH. As you choose. I gave you the opportunity--out of kindness. If
you prefer to make yourself ridiculous by hanging about here, it's no
concern of mine. I dare say I shall enjoy Florence at least as well by
myself.
[_He sulks until they arrive at the Hotel Dandolo, where they are
received on the steps by the_ PORTER.
PORTER. Goot afternoon, Schendlemen. You have a bleasant dimes at
Torcello, yes? Ach! you haf gif your gondoliers vifdeen franc? Zey
schvindle you, oal ze gondoliers alvays schvindles eferypody, yes! Zere
is som ledders for you. I vetch them. [_He bustles away._
MR. BELLERBY (_suddenly emerging from a recess in the entrance, as he
recognizes_ CULCHARD). Why, bless me, there's a face I know! Met at
Lugano, didn't we? To be sure--very pleasant chat we had too! So you're
at Venice, eh? I know every stone of it by heart, as I needn't say. The
first time I was ever at Venice----
CULCH. (_taking a bulky envelope from the_ PORTER). Just so--how are
you? Er--will you excuse me?
[_He opens the envelope, and finds a blue official-looking enclosure,
which he reads with a gradually lengthening countenance._
MR. B. (_as_ CULCHARD _thrusts the letter angrily in his pocket_).
You're new to Venice, I think? Well, just let me give you a word of
advice.
[Illustration: READS WITH A GRADUALLY LENGTHENING COUNTENANCE.]
Now you _are_ here--you make them give you some tunny. Insist on it,
Sir. Why, when I was here first----
CULCH. (_impatiently_). I know. I mean, you told me that before. And I
_have_ tasted tunny.
MR. B. Ha! well, what did you think of it? _Delicious_, eh?
CULCH. (_forgetting all his manners_). Beastly, Sir, _beastly_!
[_Leaves the scandalized_ MR. B. _abruptly, and rushes off to get a
telegram form at the bureau._
MR. CRAWLEY STRUTT (_pouncing on_ PODBURY _in the hall, as he finishes
the perusal of his letter_). Excuse me--but surely I have the honour of
addressing Lord George Gumbleton? You may perhaps just recollect, my
Lord----?
PODB. (_blankly_). Think you've made a mistake, really.
MR. C. S. Is it possible! I have come across so many people while I've
been away that--but surely we have met _somewhere_? Why, of course, Sir
John Jubber! you must pardon me, Sir John----
PODB. (_recognizing him_). My name's Podbury--plain Podbury, but you're
quite right. You _have_ met me--and you've met my bootmaker too, "Lord
Uppersole," eh? That's where the mistake came in!
MR. C. S. (_with hauteur_). I think not, Sir; I have no recollection of
the circumstance. I see now your face is quite unfamiliar to me.
[_He moves away_; PODBURY _gets a telegram form and sits down at a table
in the hall opposite_ CULCHARD.
CULCH. (_reading over his telegram_). "Yours just received. Am returning
immediately."
PODB. (_do., do._). "Letter to hand. No end sorry. Start at once."
(_Seeing_ CULCHARD.) Writing to Florence for room, eh?
CULCH. Er--no. The fact is, I've just heard from my Chief--a--a most
intemperate communication, insisting on my instant return to my duties!
I shall have to humour him, I suppose, and leave at once.
PODB. So shall I. No end of a shirty letter from the Governor. Wants to
know how much longer I expect him to be tied to the office. Old humbug,
when he only turns up twice a week for a couple of hours!
THE PORTER. Beg your bardons, Schendlemen, but if you haf qvide done vid
ze schtamps on your ledders, I gollect bostage-schtamps, yes.
CULCH. (_irritably flings him the envelope_). Oh, confound it all, take
them. _I_ don't want them! (_He looks at his letter once more._) I say,
Podbury, it--it's worse than I thought. This thing's a week old! Must
have been lying in my rooms all this time--or else in that infernal
Italian post!
PODB. Whew, old chap! I say, I wouldn't be _you_ for something! Won't
you catch it when you _do_ turn up? But look here--as things are, we may
as well travel _home_ together, eh?
CULCH. (_with a flicker of resentment_). In spite of my tendency to
"jaw" and "jabber"?
PODB. Oh, never mind all that now. We're companions in misfortune, you
know, and we'd better stick together, and keep each other's spirits up.
After all, you're in a much worse hat than _I_ am!
CULCH. If _that's_ the way you propose to keep my spirits up!----But let
us keep together, by all means, if you wish it, and just go and find out
when the next train starts, will you? (_To himself, as_ PODBURY
_departs_.) I must put up with him a little longer, I suppose. Ah me!
_How_ differently I should be feeling now, if Hypatia had only been true
to herself. But that's all over, and I dare say it's better so.... I
dare say!
[_He strolls into the hotel garden, and begins to read his Chief's
missives once more, in the hope of deciphering some faint encouragement
between the lines._
FINIS.
_Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London & Bungay._