[_Impatiently._] Good heavens, the boy's out of his senses. Paradine,
for Heaven's sake say something.
FOULDES.
Well, much as it may displease you, my dear, I'm afraid I agree with
Charlie.
LADY MERESTON.
You don't mean to say you believe this cock-and-bull story?
FOULDES.
I do.
LADY MERESTON.
Why?
FOULDES.
Well, you see, Lady Frederick's a very clever woman. She would never
have invented such an utterly improbable tale, which can't possibly be
proved. If she'd been guilty, she'd have had ready at least a dozen
proofs of her innocence.
LADY MERESTON.
But that's absurd.
FOULDES.
Besides, I've known Lady Frederick a long time, and she has at least a
thousand faults.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_With flashing eyes._] Thanks.
FOULDES.
But there's something I will say for her. She's not a liar. If she tells
me a thing, I don't hesitate for a moment to believe it.
LADY FREDERICK.
It's not a matter of the smallest importance if any of you believe me or
not. Be so good as to ring, Charlie.
MERESTON.
Certainly.
[_He rings, and a_ SERVANT _immediately comes in_.
LADY FREDERICK.
Tell my servant that he's to come here at once and bring the
despatch-box which is in my dressing-room.
SERVANT.
Yes, miladi.
[_Exit._
FOULDES.
[_Quickly._] I say, what are you going to do?
LADY FREDERICK.
That is absolutely no business of yours.
FOULDES.
Be a brick, Betsy, and don't give her those letters.
LADY FREDERICK.
I think I've had enough of this business. I'm proposing to finish with
it.
FOULDES.
Temper, temper.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Stamping her foot._] Don't say temper to me, Paradine.
[_She walks up and down angrily._ PARADINE
_sits at the piano and with one finger strums
"Rule Britannia."_
MERESTON.
Shut up.
[_He takes a book, flings it at his head and
misses._
FOULDES.
Good shot, sir.
LADY FREDERICK.
I often wonder how you got your reputation for wit, Paradine.
FOULDES.
By making a point of laughing heartily at other people's jokes.
[_The_ FOOTMAN _enters with the despatch-box,
which_ LADY FREDERICK _opens. She takes
a bundle of letters from it._
FOULDES.
Betsy, Betsy, for heaven's sake don't! Have mercy.
LADY FREDERICK.
Was mercy shown to me? Albert!
FOOTMAN.
Yes, miladi.
LADY FREDERICK.
You'll go to the proprietor of the hotel and tell him that I propose to
leave Monte Carlo to-morrow.
MERESTON.
[_Aghast._] Are you going?
FOOTMAN.
Very well, my lady.
LADY FREDERICK.
Have you a good memory for faces?
FOOTMAN.
Yes, my lady.
LADY FREDERICK.
You're not likely to forget Lord Mereston?
FOOTMAN.
No, my lady.
LADY FREDERICK.
Then please take note that if his lordship calls upon me in London I'm
not at home.
MERESTON.
Lady Frederick!
LADY FREDERICK.
[_To_ FOOTMAN.] Go.
[_Exit_ FOOTMAN.
MERESTON.
What d'you mean? What have I done?
[_Without answering_ LADY FREDERICK _takes
the letters_. PARADINE _is watching her
anxiously. She goes up to the stove and
throws them in one by one._
LADY MERESTON.
What on earth is she doing?
LADY FREDERICK.
I have some letters here which would ruin the happiness of a very
worthless woman I know. I'm burning them so that I may never have the
temptation to use them.
FOULDES.
I never saw anything so melodramatic.
LADY FREDERICK.
Hold your tongue, Paradine. [_Turning to_ MERESTON.] My dear Charlie, I
came to Monte Carlo to be amused. Your mother has persecuted me
incessantly. Your uncle--is too well-bred to talk to his servants as he
has talked to me. I've been pestered in one way and another, and
insulted till my blood boiled, because apparently they're afraid you may
want to marry me. I'm sick and tired of it. I'm not used to treatment of
this sort; my patience is quite exhausted. And since you are the cause
of the whole thing I have an obvious remedy. I would much rather not
have anything more to do with you. If we meet one another in the street
you need not trouble to look my way because I shall cut you dead.
LADY MERESTON.
[_In an undertone._] Thank God for that.
MERESTON.
Mother, mother. [_To_ LADY FREDERICK.] I'm awfully sorry. I feel that
you have a right to be angry. For all that you've suffered I beg your
pardon most humbly. My mother has said and done things which I regret to
say are quite unjustifiable.
LADY MERESTON.
Charlie!
MERESTON.
On her behalf and on mine I apologise with all my heart.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Smiling._] Don't take it too seriously. It really doesn't matter. But
I think it's far wiser that we shouldn't see one another again.
MERESTON.
But I can't live without you.
LADY MERESTON.
[_With a gasp._] Ah!
MERESTON.
Don't you know that my whole happiness is wrapped up in you? I love you
with all my heart and soul. I can never love any one but you.
FOULDES.
[_To_ LADY MERESTON.] Now you've done it. You've done it very neatly.
MERESTON.
Don't think me a presumptuous fool. I've been wanting to say this ever
since I knew you, but I haven't dared. You're brilliant and charming and
fascinating, but I have nothing whatever to offer you.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Gently._] My dear Charlie.
MERESTON.
But if you can overlook my faults, I daresay you could make something of
me. Won't you marry me? I should look upon it as a great honour, and I
would love you always to the end of my life. I'd try to be worthy of my
great happiness and you.
LADY FREDERICK.
You're very much too modest, Charlie. I'm enormously flattered and
grateful. You must give me time to think it over.
LADY MERESTON.
Time?
MERESTON.
But I can't wait. Don't you see how I love you? You'll never meet any
one who'll care for you as I do.
LADY FREDERICK.
I think you can wait a little. Come and see me to-morrow morning at ten,
and I'll give you an answer.
MERESTON.
Very well, if I must.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Smiling._] I'm afraid so.
FOULDES.
[_To_ LADY FREDERICK.] I wonder what the deuce your little game is now.
[_She smiles triumphantly and gives him a deep,
ironical curtsey._
LADY FREDERICK.
Sir, your much obliged and very obedient, humble servant.
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
THIRD ACT
SCENE: LADY FREDERICK'S _dressing-room. At the back is a large
opening, curtained, which leads to the bedroom; on the right a door
leading to the passage; on the left a window. In front of the
window, of which the blind is drawn, is a dressing-table._ LADY
FREDERICK'S _maid is in the room, a very neat pretty Frenchwoman.
She speaks with a slight accent. She rings the bell, and the_
FOOTMAN _enters_.
MAID.
As soon as Lord Mereston arrives he is to be shown in.
FOOTMAN.
[_Surprised._] Here?
MAID.
Where else?
[_The_ FOOTMAN _winks significantly. The_ MAID
_draws herself up with dignity, and with a
dramatic gesture points to the door_.
MAID.
Depart.
[_The_ FOOTMAN _goes out_.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_From the bedroom._] Have you drawn the blind, Angélique?
MAID.
I will do so, miladi. [_She draws the blind, and the light falls
brightly on the dressing-table._] But miladi will never be able to stand
it. [_She looks at herself in the glass._] Oh, the light of the sun in
the morning! I cannot look at myself.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_As before._] There's no reason that you should--especially in my
glass.
MAID.
But if 'is lordship is coming, miladi must let me draw the blind. Oh, it
is impossible.
LADY FREDERICK.
Do as you're told and don't interfere.
[_The_ FOOTMAN _enters to announce_ MERESTON.
_The_ MAID _goes out._
FOOTMAN.
Lord Mereston.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_As before._] Is that you, Charlie? You're very punctual.
MERESTON.
I've been walking about outside till the clock struck.
LADY FREDERICK.
I'm not nearly dressed, you know. I've only just had my bath.
MERESTON.
Must I go?
LADY FREDERICK.
No, of course not. You can talk to me while I'm finishing.
MERESTON.
All right. How are you this morning?
LADY FREDERICK.
I don't know. I haven't looked at myself in the glass yet. How are you?
MERESTON.
A 1, thanks.
LADY FREDERICK.
Are you looking nice?
MERESTON.
[_Going to the glass._] I hope so. By Jove, what a strong light. You
must be pretty sure of your complexion to be able to stand that.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Appearing._] I am.
MERESTON.
[_Going forward eagerly._] Ah.
[_She comes through the curtains. She wears a
kimono, her hair is all dishevelled, hanging
about her head in a tangled mop. She is
not made up and looks haggard and yellow
and lined. When_ MERESTON _sees her he
gives a slight start of surprise. She plays
the scene throughout with her broadest
brogue._
LADY FREDERICK.
Good-morning.
MERESTON.
[_Staring at her in dismay._] Good-morning.
LADY FREDERICK.
Well, what have you to say to me?
MERESTON.
[_Embarrassed._] I--er--hope you slept all right.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Laughing._] Did you?
MERESTON.
I forget.
LADY FREDERICK.
I believe you slept like a top, Charlie. You really might have lain
awake and thought of me. What is the matter? You look as if you'd seen a
ghost.
MERESTON.
Oh no, not at all.
LADY FREDERICK.
You're not disappointed already?
MERESTON.
No, of course not. Only--you look so different with your hair not done.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_With a little cry._] Oh, I'd forgotten all about it. Angélique, come
and do my hair.
MAID.
[_Appearing._] Yes, miladi.
[LADY FREDERICK _sits down at the dressing-table._
LADY FREDERICK.
Now, take pains, Angélique. I want to look my very best. Angélique is a
jewel of incalculable value.
MAID.
Miladi is very kind.
LADY FREDERICK.
If I'm light-hearted, she does it one way. If I'm depressed she does it
another.
MAID.
Oh, miladi, the perruquier who taught me said always that a good
hairdresser could express every mood and every passion of the human
heart.
LADY FREDERICK.
Good heavens, you don't mean to say you can do all that?
MAID.
Miladi, he said I was his best pupil.
LADY FREDERICK.
Very well. Express--express a great crisis in my affairs.
MAID.
That is the easiest thing in the world, miladi. I bring the hair rather
low on the forehead, and that expresses a crisis in her ladyship's
affairs.
LADY FREDERICK.
But I always wear my hair low on the forehead.
MAID.
Then it is plain her ladyship's affairs are always in a critical
condition.
LADY FREDERICK.
So they are. I never thought of that.
MERESTON.
You've got awfully stunning hair, Lady Frederick.
LADY FREDERICK.
D'you like it, really?
MERESTON.
The colour's perfectly beautiful.
LADY FREDERICK.
It ought to be. It's frightfully expensive.
MERESTON.
You don't mean to say it's dyed?
LADY FREDERICK.
Oh, no. Only touched up. That's quite a different thing.
MERESTON.
Is it?
LADY FREDERICK.
It's like superstition, you know, which is what other people believe. My
friends dye their hair, but I only touch mine up. Unfortunately, it
costs just as much.
MERESTON.
And you have such a lot.
LADY FREDERICK.
Oh, heaps. [_She opens a drawer and takes out a long switch._] Give him
a bit to look at.
MAID.
Yes, miladi.
[_She gives it to him._
MERESTON.
Er--yes. [_Not knowing what on earth to say._] How silky it is.
LADY FREDERICK.
A poor thing, but mine own. At least, I paid for it. By the way, have I
paid for it yet, Angélique?
MAID.
Not yet, miladi. But the man can wait.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Taking it from_ MERESTON.] A poor thing, then, but my hairdresser's.
Shall I put it on?
MERESTON.
I wouldn't, if I were you.
MAID.
If her ladyship anticipates a tragic situation, I would venture to
recommend it. A really pathetic scene is impossible without a quantity
of hair worn quite high on the head.
LADY FREDERICK.
Oh, I know. Whenever I want to soften the hard heart of a creditor I
clap on every bit I've got. But I don't think I will to-day. I'll tell
you what, a temple curl would just fit the case.
MAID.
Then her ladyship inclines to comedy. Very well, I say no more.
[LADY FREDERICK _takes two temple-curls from
the drawer._
LADY FREDERICK.
Aren't they dears?
MERESTON.
Yes.
LADY FREDERICK.
You've admired them very often, Charlie, haven't you? I suppose you
never knew they cost a guinea each?
MERESTON.
It never occurred to me they were false.
LADY FREDERICK.
The masculine intelligence is so gross. Didn't your mother tell you?
MERESTON.
My mother told me a great deal.
LADY FREDERICK.
I expect she overdid it. There. Now that's done. D'you think it looks
nice?
MERESTON.
Charming.
LADY FREDERICK.
Angélique, his lordship is satisfied. You may disappear.
MAID.
Yes, miladi.
[_She goes._
LADY FREDERICK.
Now, tell me you think I'm the most ravishing creature you ever saw in
your life.
MERESTON.
I've told you that so often.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Stretching out her hands._] You are a nice boy. It was charming of you
to say--what you did yesterday. I could have hugged you there and then.
MERESTON.
Could you?
LADY FREDERICK.
Oh, my dear, don't be so cold.
MERESTON.
I'm very sorry, I didn't mean to be.
LADY FREDERICK.
Haven't you got anything nice to say to me at all?
MERESTON.
I don't know what I can say that I've not said a thousand times
already.
LADY FREDERICK.
Tell me what you thought of all night when you tossed on that sleepless
pillow of yours.
MERESTON.
I was awfully anxious to see you again.
LADY FREDERICK.
Didn't you have a dreadful fear that I shouldn't be as nice as you
imagined? Now, come--honestly.
MERESTON.
Well, yes, I suppose it crossed my mind.
LADY FREDERICK.
And am I?
MERESTON.
Of course.
LADY FREDERICK.
You're sure you're not disappointed?
MERESTON.
Quite sure.
LADY FREDERICK.
What a relief! You know, I've been tormenting myself dreadfully. I said
to myself: "He'll go on thinking of me till he imagines I'm the most
beautiful woman in the world, and then, when he comes here and sees the
plain reality, it'll be an awful blow."
MERESTON.
What nonsense! How could you think anything of the kind?
LADY FREDERICK.
Are you aware that you haven't shown the least desire to kiss me yet?
MERESTON.
I thought--I thought you might not like it.
LADY FREDERICK.
It'll be too late in a minute.
MERESTON.
Why?
LADY FREDERICK.
Because I'm just going to make up, you silly boy.
MERESTON.
How? I don't understand.
LADY FREDERICK.
You said I must be very sure of my complexion. Of course I am. Here it
is.
[_She runs her fingers over a row of little pots
and vases._
MERESTON.
Oh, I see. I beg your pardon.
LADY FREDERICK.
You don't mean to say you thought it natural?
MERESTON.
It never occurred to me it might be anything else.
LADY FREDERICK.
It's really too disheartening. I spend an hour every day of my life
making the best complexion in Monte Carlo, and you think it's natural.
Why, I might as well be a dairymaid of eighteen.
MERESTON.
I'm very sorry.
LADY FREDERICK.
I forgive you.... You may kiss my hand. [_He does so._] You dear boy.
[_Looking at herself in the glass._] Oh, Betsy, you're not looking your
best to-day. [_Shaking her finger at the glass._] This won't do, Betsy,
my dear. You're very nearly looking your age. [_Turning round quickly._]
D'you think I look forty?
MERESTON.
I never asked myself how old you were.
LADY FREDERICK.
Well, I'm not, you know. And I shan't be as long as there's a pot of
rouge and a powder puff in the world. [_She rubs grease paint all over
her face._]
MERESTON.
What _are_ you doing?
LADY FREDERICK.
I wish I were an actress. They have such an advantage. They only have to
make up to look well behind the footlights; but I have to expose myself
to that beastly sun.
MERESTON.
[_Nervously._] Yes, of course.
LADY FREDERICK.
Is your mother dreadfully annoyed with you? And Paradine must be
furious. I shall call him Uncle Paradine next time I see him. It'll make
him feel so middle-aged. Charlie, you don't know how grateful I am for
what you did yesterday. You acted like a real brick.
MERESTON.
It's awfully good of you to say so.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Turning._] Do I look a fright?
MERESTON.
Oh, no, not at all.
LADY FREDERICK.
I love this powder. It plays no tricks with you. Once I put on a new
powder that I bought in Paris, and as soon as I went into artificial
light it turned a bright mauve. I was very much annoyed. You wouldn't
like to go about with a mauve face, would you?
MERESTON.
No, not at all.
LADY FREDERICK.
Fortunately I had a green frock on. And mauve and green were very
fashionable that year. Still I'd sooner it hadn't been on my face....
There. I think that'll do as a foundation. I'm beginning to feel younger
already. Now for the delicate soft bloom of youth. The great difficulty,
you know, is to make both your cheeks the same colour. [_Turning to
him._] Charlie, you're not bored, are you?
MERESTON.
No, no.
LADY FREDERICK.
I always think my observations have a peculiar piquancy when I have only
one cheek rouged. I remember once I went out to dinner, and as soon as I
sat down I grew conscious of the fact that one of my cheeks was much
redder than the other.
MERESTON.
By George, that was awkward.
LADY FREDERICK.
Charlie, you are a good-looking boy. I had no idea you were so handsome.
And you look so young and fresh, it's quite a pleasure to look at you.
MERESTON.
[_Laughing awkwardly._] D'you think so? What did you do when you
discovered your predicament?
LADY FREDERICK.
Well, by a merciful interposition of Providence, I had a foreign
diplomatist on my right side which bloomed like a rose, and a bishop on
my left which was white like the lily. The diplomatist told me risky
stories all through dinner so it was quite natural that this cheek
should blush fiery red. And as the Bishop whispered in my left ear
harrowing details of distress in the East End, it was only decent that
the other should exhibit a becoming pallor. [_Meanwhile she has been
rouging her cheeks._] Now look carefully, Charlie, and you'll see how I
make the Cupid's bow which is my mouth. I like a nice healthy colour on
the lips, don't you?
MERESTON.
Isn't it awfully uncomfortable to have all that stuff on?
LADY FREDERICK.
Ah, my dear boy, it's woman's lot to suffer in this world. But it's a
great comfort to think that one is submitting to the decrees of
Providence and at the same time adding to one's personal attractiveness.
But I confess I sometimes wish I needn't blow my nose so carefully.
Smile, Charlie. I don't think you're a very ardent lover, you know.
MERESTON.
I'm sorry. What would you like me to do?
LADY FREDERICK.
I should like you to make me impassioned speeches.
MERESTON.
I'm afraid they'd be so hackneyed.
LADY FREDERICK.
Never mind that. I've long discovered that under the influence of
profound emotion a man always expresses himself in the terms of the
_Family Herald_.
MERESTON.
You must remember that I'm awfully inexperienced.
LADY FREDERICK.
Well, I'll let you off this time--because I like your curly hair. [_She
sighs amorously._] Now for the delicate arch of my eyebrows. I don't
know what I should do without this. I've got no eyebrows at all
really.... Have you ever noticed that dark line under the eyes which
gives such intensity to my expression?
MERESTON.
Yes, often.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Holding out the pencil._] Well, here it is. Ah, my dear boy, in this
pencil you have at will roguishness and languor, tenderness and
indifference, sprightliness, passion, malice, what you will. Now be
very quiet for one moment. If I overdo it my whole day will be spoilt.
You mustn't breathe even. Whenever I do this I think how true those
lines are:
"The little more and how much it is.
The little less and what worlds away."
There! Now just one puff of powder, and the whole world's kind.
[_Looking at herself in the glass and sighing with satisfaction._] Ah! I
feel eighteen. I think it's a success, and I shall have a happy day. Oh,
Betsy, Betsy, I think you'll do. You know, you're not unattractive, my
dear. Not strictly beautiful, perhaps; but then I don't like the
chocolate-box sort of woman. I'll just go and take off this
dressing-gown. [MERESTON _gets up._] No, don't move. I'll go into my
bedroom. I shall only be one moment. [LADY FREDERICK _goes through the
curtains._] Angélique.
[_The_ MAID _enters._
MAID.
Yes, miladi.
LADY FREDERICK.
Just clear away those things on the dressing-table.
MAID.
[_Doing so._] Very well, miladi.
LADY FREDERICK.
You may have a cigarette, Charlie.
MERESTON.
Thanks. My nerves are a bit dicky this morning.
LADY FREDERICK.
Oh, blow the thing! Angélique, come and help me.
MAID.
Yes, miladi.
[_She goes out._
LADY FREDERICK.
At last.
[_She comes in, having changed the kimono for
a very beautiful dressing-gown of silk and
lace._
LADY FREDERICK.
Now, are you pleased?
MERESTON.
Of course I'm pleased.
LADY FREDERICK.
Then you may make love to me.
MERESTON.
You say such disconcerting things.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Laughing._] Well, Charlie, you've found no difficulty in doing it for
the last fortnight. You're not going to pretend that you're already at a
loss for pretty speeches?
MERESTON.
When I came here, I had a thousand things to say to you, but you've
driven them all out of my head. Won't you give me an answer now?
LADY FREDERICK.
What to?
MERESTON.
You've not forgotten that I asked you to marry me?
LADY FREDERICK.
No, but you asked me under very peculiar circumstances. I wonder if you
can repeat the offer now in cold blood?
MERESTON.
Of course. What a cad you must think me!
LADY FREDERICK.
Are you sure you want to marry me still--after having slept over it?
MERESTON.
Yes.
LADY FREDERICK.
You are a good boy, and I'm a beast to treat you so abominably. It's
awfully nice of you.
MERESTON.
Well, what is the answer?
LADY FREDERICK.
My dear, I've been giving it you for the last half-hour.
MERESTON.
How?
LADY FREDERICK.
You don't for a moment suppose I should have let you into those horrible
mysteries of my toilette if I'd had any intention of marrying you? Give
me credit for a certain amount of intelligence and good feeling. I
should have kept up the illusion, at all events till after the
honeymoon.
MERESTON.
Are you going to refuse me?
LADY FREDERICK.
Aren't you rather glad?
MERESTON.
No, no, no.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Putting her arm through his._] Now let us talk it over sensibly.
You're a very nice boy, and I'm awfully fond of you. But you're
twenty-two, and heaven only knows my age. You see, the church in which I
was baptized was burnt down the year I was born, so I don't know how old
I am.
MERESTON.
[_Smiling._] Where was it burnt?
LADY FREDERICK.
In Ireland.
MERESTON.
I thought so.
LADY FREDERICK.
Just at present I can make a decent enough show by taking infinite
pains; and my hand is not so heavy that the innocent eyes of your sex
can discover how much of me is due to art. But in ten years you'll only
be thirty-two, and then, if I married you, my whole life would be a
mortal struggle to preserve some semblance of youth. Haven't you seen
those old hags who've never surrendered to Anno Domini, with their poor,
thin, wrinkled cheeks covered with paint, and the dreadful wigs that
hide a hairless pate? Rather cock-eyed, don't you know, and invariably
flaxen. You've laughed at their ridiculous graces, and you've been
disgusted too. Oh, I'm so sorry for them, poor things. And I should
become just like that, for I should never have the courage to let my
hair be white so long as yours was brown. But if I don't marry you, I
can look forward to the white hairs fairly happily. The first I shall
pluck out, and the second I shall pluck out. But when the third comes
I'll give in, and I'll throw my rouge and my poudre de riz and my
pencils into the fire.
MERESTON.
But d'you think I should ever change?
LADY FREDERICK.
My dear boy, I'm sure of it. Can't you imagine what it would be to be
tied to a woman who was always bound to sit with her back to the light?
And sometimes you might want to kiss me.
MERESTON.
I think it very probable.
LADY FREDERICK.
Well, you couldn't--in case you disarranged my complexion. [MERESTON
_sighs deeply._] Don't sigh, Charlie. I daresay I was horrid to let you
fall in love with me, but I'm only human, and I was desperately
flattered.
MERESTON.
Was that all?
LADY FREDERICK.
And rather touched. That is why I want to give a cure with my refusal.
MERESTON.
But you break my heart.
LADY FREDERICK.
My dear, men have said that to me ever since I was fifteen, but I've
never noticed that in consequence they ate their dinner less heartily.
MERESTON.
I suppose you think it was only calf-love?
LADY FREDERICK.
I'm not such a fool as to imagine a boy can love any less than a man. If
I'd thought your affection ridiculous I shouldn't have been so
flattered.
MERESTON.
It doesn't hurt any the less because the wounds you make are clean cut.
LADY FREDERICK.
But they'll soon heal. And you'll fall in love with a nice girl of your
own age, whose cheeks flush with youth and not with rouge, and whose
eyes sparkle because they love you, and not because they're carefully
made up.
MERESTON.
But I wanted to help you. You're in such an awful scrape, and if you'll
only marry me it can all be set right.
LADY FREDERICK.
Oh, my dear, don't go in for self-sacrifice. You must leave that to
women. They're so much more used to it.
MERESTON.
Isn't there anything I can do for you?
LADY FREDERICK.
No, dear. I shall get out of the mess somehow. I always do. You really
need not worry about me.
MERESTON.
You know, you _are_ a brick.
LADY FREDERICK.
Then it's all settled, isn't it? And you're not going to be unhappy?
MERESTON.
I'll try not to be.
LADY FREDERICK.
I'd like to imprint a chaste kiss on your forehead, only I'm afraid it
would leave a mark.
[_The_ FOOTMAN _comes in and announces_ PARADINE
FOULDES.
FOOTMAN.
Mr. Paradine Fouldes.
[_Exit._
FOULDES.
Do I disturb?
LADY FREDERICK.
Not at all. We've just finished our conversation.
FOULDES.
Well?
MERESTON.
If any one wants to know who the best woman in the world is send 'em to
me, and I'll tell them.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Taking his hand._] You dear! Good-bye.
MERESTON.
Good-bye. And thanks for being so kind to me.
[_He goes out._
FOULDES.
Do I see in front of me my prospective niece?
LADY FREDERICK.
Why d'you ask, Uncle Paradine?
FOULDES.
Singularly enough because I want to know.
LADY FREDERICK.
Well, it so happens--you don't.
FOULDES.
You've refused him?
LADY FREDERICK.
I have.
FOULDES.
Then will you tell me why you've been leading us all such a devil of a
dance?
LADY FREDERICK.
Because you interfered with me, and I allow no one to do that.
FOULDES.
Hoity-toity.
LADY FREDERICK.
You weren't really so foolish as to imagine I should marry a boy who set
me up on a pedestal and vowed he was unworthy to kiss the hem of my
garment?
FOULDES.
Why not?
LADY FREDERICK.
My dear Paradine, I don't want to commit suicide by sheer boredom.
There's only one thing in the world more insufferable than being in
love.
FOULDES.
And what is that, pray?
LADY FREDERICK.
Why, having some one in love with you.
FOULDES.
I've suffered from it all my life.
LADY FREDERICK.
Think of living up to the ideal Charlie has of me. My hair would turn a
hydrogen yellow in a week. And then to be so desperately adored as all
that--oh, it's so dull! I should have to wear a mask all day long. I
could never venture to be natural in case I shocked him. And
notwithstanding all my efforts I should see the illusions tumbling about
his ears one by one till he realised I was no ethereal goddess, but a
very ordinary human woman neither better nor worse than anybody else.
FOULDES.
Your maxim appears to be, marry any one you like except the man that's
in love with you.
LADY FREDERICK.
Ah, but don't you think I might find a man who loved me though he knew
me through and through? I'd far rather that he saw my faults and forgave
them than that he thought me perfect.
FOULDES.
But how d'you know you've choked the boy off for good?
LADY FREDERICK.
I took good care. I wanted to cure him. If it had been possible I would
have shown him my naked soul. But I couldn't do that, so I let him
see....
FOULDES.
[_Interrupting._] What!
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Laughing._] No, not quite. I had a dressing-gown on and other
paraphernalia. But I made him come here when I wasn't made up, and he
sat by while I rouged my cheeks.
FOULDES.
And the young fool thought there was nothing more in you than a
carefully prepared complexion?
LADY FREDERICK.
He was very nice about it. But I think he was rather relieved when I
refused him.
[_There is a knock at the door._]
GERALD.
[_Outside._] May we come in?
LADY FREDERICK.
Yes do.
_Enter_ GERALD _and_ ROSE _and the_ ADMIRAL.
GERALD.
[_Excitedly._] I say, it's all right. The Admiral's come down like a
real brick. I've told him everything.
LADY FREDERICK.
What do you mean? Good-morning, dear Admiral.
ADMIRAL.
Good-morning.
GERALD.
I've made a clean breast of it. I talked it over with Rosie.
ROSE.
And we went to papa together.
GERALD.
And told him that I owed Montgomerie nine hundred pounds.
ROSE.
And we thought papa would make an awful scene.
GERALD.
Raise Cain, don't you know.
ROSE.
But he never said a word.
GERALD.
He was simply ripping over it.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Putting her hands to her ears._] Oh, oh, oh. For heaven's sake be calm
and coherent.
GERALD.
My dear, you don't know what a relief it is.
ROSE.
I saw Gerald was dreadfully worried, and I wormed it out of him.
GERALD.
I'm so glad to be out of the clutches of that brute.
ROSE.
Now we're going to live happily ever afterwards.
[_All the while the_ ADMIRAL _has been trying to get a word in, but each
time he is about to start one of the others has broken in._
ADMIRAL.
Silence. [_He puffs and blows._] I never saw such a pair in my life.
LADY FREDERICK.
Now do explain it all, Admiral. I can't make head or tail out of these
foolish creatures.
ADMIRAL.
Well, they came and told me that Montgomerie had an I.O.U. of Gerald's
for nine hundred pounds and was using it to blackmail you.
FOULDES.
Is that a fact?
LADY FREDERICK.
Yes.
ADMIRAL.
I never liked the man's face. And when they said his terms were that you
were to marry him or Gerald would have to send in his papers, I said ...
FOULDES.
Damn his impudence.
ADMIRAL.
How did you know?
FOULDES.
Because I'd have said it myself.
GERALD.
And the Admiral stumped up like a man. He gave me a cheque for the
money, and I've just this moment sent it on to Montgomerie.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Taking both his hands._] It's awfully good of you, and I'm sure you'll
never regret that you gave Gerald a chance.
ADMIRAL.
May I have a few words' private conversation with you?
LADY FREDERICK.
Of course. [_To the others._] Make yourselves scarce.
FOULDES.
We'll go on the balcony, shall we?
ADMIRAL.
I'm sorry to trouble you, but it'll only take three minutes.
[GERALD _and_ ROSE _and_ FOULDES _go on to the balcony_.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_When they've gone._] There.
ADMIRAL.
Well, what I wanted to say to you was this: I like Gerald, but I think
he wants guiding. D'you follow me?
LADY FREDERICK.
I'm sure he will take your advice always.
ADMIRAL.
It's a woman's hand that he wants. Now if you and I were to join forces
we could keep him out of mischief, couldn't we?
LADY FREDERICK.
Oh, I'll come and stay with you whenever you ask me. I love giving good
advice when I'm quite sure it won't be taken.
ADMIRAL.
I was thinking of a more permanent arrangement. Look here, why don't you
marry me?
LADY FREDERICK.
My dear Admiral!
ADMIRAL.
I don't think an attractive woman like you ought to live alone. She's
bound to get in a scrape.
LADY FREDERICK.
It's awfully good of you, but....
ADMIRAL.
You don't think I'm too old, do you?
LADY FREDERICK.
Of course not. You're in the very prime of life.
ADMIRAL.
There's life in the old dog yet, I can tell you.
LADY FREDERICK.
I feel sure of that. I never doubted it for a moment.
ADMIRAL.
Then what have you got against me?
LADY FREDERICK.
You wouldn't like to commit polygamy, would you?
ADMIRAL.
Eh?
LADY FREDERICK.
You see, it's not a question of marrying me only, but all my
tradespeople.
ADMIRAL.
I hadn't thought of that.
LADY FREDERICK.
Besides, you're Rose's father, and I'm Gerald's sister. If we married I
should be my brother's mother-in-law, and my step-daughter would be my
sister. Your daughter would be your sister-in-law, and your brother
would just snap his fingers at your fatherly advice.
ADMIRAL.
[Confused.] Eh?
LADY FREDERICK.
I don't know if the prayer-book allows things like that, but if it does
I think it's hopelessly immoral.
ADMIRAL.
Well, shall I tell them I've changed my mind and they can't marry?
LADY FREDERICK.
Then there'd be no reason for us to--commit the crime, would there?
ADMIRAL.
I hadn't thought of that. I suppose not.
LADY FREDERICK.
You're not cross with me, are you? I'm very much flattered, and I thank
you from the bottom of my heart.
ADMIRAL.
Not at all, not at all. I only thought it might save trouble.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Calling._] Gerald. Come along. [_They come in._] We've had our little
talk.
GERALD.
Everything satisfactory?
LADY FREDERICK.
[_With a look at the_ ADMIRAL.] Quite.
ADMIRAL.
[_Gruffly._] Quite.
LADY FREDERICK'S FOOTMAN _enters._
FOOTMAN.
Captain Montgomerie wishes to know if he may see your ladyship.
LADY FREDERICK.
I'd forgotten all about him.
GERALD.
Let me go to him, shall I?
LADY FREDERICK.
No, I'm not afraid of him any longer. He can't do anything to you. And
as far as I'm concerned it doesn't matter.
GERALD.
Then I'll tell him to go to the devil.
LADY FREDERICK.
No, I'm going to tell him that myself. [_To the_ FOOTMAN.] Ask Captain
Montgomerie to come here.
FOOTMAN.
Yes, miladi.
[_Exit._
Lady Frederick.
[_Walking up and down furiously._] I'm going to tell him that myself.
FOULDES.
Now keep calm, Betsy.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Very deliberately._] I shall not keep calm.
FOULDES.
Remember that you're a perfect lady.
LADY FREDERICK.
Don't interfere with me. I ate humble pie yesterday, and it didn't agree
with me at all.
[FOOTMAN _enters to announce_ CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE, _who follows him, and
immediately withdraws._
FOOTMAN.
Captain Montgomerie.
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
How d'you do.
[_He is obviously surprised to see the others._
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Pleasantly._] Quite a party, aren't we?
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
Yes. [_A pause._] I hope you don't mind my coming so early?
LADY FREDERICK.
Not at all. You made an appointment for half-past ten.
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
I trust you have good news for me.
LADY FREDERICK.
Captain Montgomerie, every one here knows the circumstances that have
brought you.
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
I should have thought it wiser for both our sakes not to make them too
public.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Very amiably._] I don't see why you should be ashamed because you made
me a proposal of marriage?
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
I'm sorry you should think it a laughing matter, Lady Frederick.
LADY FREDERICK.
I don't. I never laugh at an impertinence.
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
[_Taken aback._] I beg your pardon.
LADY FREDERICK.
Surely the receipt of my brother's letter was sufficient answer for you.
After that you must have guessed there was no likelihood that I should
change my mind.
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
What letter? I don't understand.
GERALD.
I sent you a note this morning enclosing a cheque for the money I lost
to you.
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
I've not received it.
GERALD.
It must be waiting for you at the hotel.
[CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE _pauses and looks meditatively
at the assembled company_.
LADY FREDERICK.
I think there's nothing for which I need detain you longer.
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
[_Smiling._] I don't think I've quite finished yet. Has it slipped your
memory that the two bills fall due to-day? Allow me to present them.
[_He takes them out of his pocket-book._
LADY FREDERICK.
I'm very sorry I can't pay them--at present.
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
I regret that I can't wait. You must pay them.
LADY FREDERICK.
I tell you it's impossible.
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
Then I shall get an order against you.
LADY FREDERICK.
That you may do to your heart's content.
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
You realise the consequences. It's not very nice to be an undischarged
bankrupt.
LADY FREDERICK.
Much nicer than to marry a rascally money-lender.
FOULDES.
May I look at these interesting documents?
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
Certainly. [_Blandly._] I haven't the least wish to be offensive.
FOULDES.
[_Taking them._] You fail lamentably in achieving your wish. Three
thousand five hundred pounds in all. It seems hardly worth while to make
a fuss about so small a sum.
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
I'm in urgent need of money.
FOULDES.
[_Ironically._] So rich a man as you?
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
Even a rich man may be temporarily embarrassed.
FOULDES.
Then be so good as to wait for one moment. [_He sits down at a table and
writes a cheque._] No sight is more affecting than that of a
millionaire in financial straits.
LADY FREDERICK.
Paradine!
FOULDES.
[_Handing the cheque._] Now, sir, I think that settles it. Will you
exchange my cheque for those bills?
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
Damn you, I forgot you.
FOULDES.
You may not be aware that it's unusual to swear in the presence of
ladies.
CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.
[_Looking at the cheque._] I suppose it's all right.
[PARADINE _goes to the door and opens it_.
FOULDES.
There is the window, and here is the door. Which will you choose?
[CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE _looks at him without
answering, shrugs his shoulders and goes
out_.
LADY FREDERICK.
Oh, Paradine, you are a brick.
GERALD.
I say it's awfully good of you.
FOULDES.
Nonsense. I've got a strong sense of effect, and I always cultivate the
dramatic situation.
LADY FREDERICK.
I shall never be able to pay you back, Paradine.
FOULDES.
My dear, I'm not entirely devoid of intelligence.
ADMIRAL.
Well, well, I must be off to take my constitutional.
LADY FREDERICK.
And Rose and Gerald must take care of you. We shall all meet at
luncheon.
ADMIRAL.
Yes, yes.
[_The_ ADMIRAL, ROSE _and_ GERALD _go out._ LADY FREDERICK _goes up to_
PARADINE _and takes his hands._
LADY FREDERICK.
Thanks awfully. You are a good friend.
FOULDES.
By George, how your eyes glitter!
LADY FREDERICK.
It's only belladonna, you know.
FOULDES.
I'm not such a fool as my nephew, my dear.
LADY FREDERICK.
Why did you do it?
FOULDES.
D'you know what gratitude is?
LADY FREDERICK.
Thanks for past favours and a lively sense of benefits to come.
FOULDES.
Well, yesterday you had my sister in the hollow of your hand. She gave
you great provocation, and you burnt those confounded letters.
LADY FREDERICK.
My dear Paradine, I can't get over my own magnanimity. And what are the
benefits to come?
FOULDES.
Well it might be five per cent. on the capital.
LADY FREDERICK.
I don't know why you should squeeze my hands all the time.
FOULDES.
But it isn't. Look here, don't you get awfully tired of racketting
about?
LADY FREDERICK.
Oh, my dear friend, I'm sick to death of it. I've got half a mind to
retire from the world and bury myself in a hermitage.
FOULDES.
So have I, and I've bought the lease of a little house in Norfolk
Street, Park Lane.
LADY FREDERICK.
Just the place for a hermitage--fashionable without being vulgar.
FOULDES.
And I propose to live there quite quietly, and I shall just subsist on a
few dried herbs, don't you know.
LADY FREDERICK.
But do have them cooked by a really good French chef; it makes such a
difference.
FOULDES.
And what d'you say to joining me?
LADY FREDERICK.
I?
FOULDES.
You.
LADY FREDERICK.
Oh, I _am_ a success to-day. That's another proposal of marriage.
FOULDES.
It sounds very much like it.
LADY FREDERICK.
I've already had three this morning.
FOULDES.
Then I should think you've said "no" quite often enough.
LADY FREDERICK.
Come at ten o'clock to-morrow, and you shall see me make up.
FOULDES.
D'you think that would choke me off? D'you suppose I don't know that
behind that very artificial complexion there's a dear little woman
called Betsy who's genuine to the bottom of her soul?
LADY FREDERICK.
Oh, don't be so sentimental or I shall cry.
FOULDES.
Well, what is it to be?
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Her voice breaking._] D'you like me still, Paradine, after all these
years?
FOULDES.
Yes. [_She looks at him, her lips quivering. He stretches out his arms,
and she, breaking down, hides her face on his shoulder._] Now don't be
an ass, Betsy.... I know you'll say in a minute I'm the only man you
ever loved.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Looking up with a laugh._] I shan't.... But what will your sister
say?
FOULDES.
I'll tell her there was only one way in which I could save Charlie from
your clutches.
LADY FREDERICK.
What?
FOULDES.
By marrying you myself.
LADY FREDERICK.
[_Putting up her face._] Monster.
[_He kisses her lips._]
THE END.
* * * * *
_THE EXPLORER_
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
(_Uniform with this Volume_)
_PLAYS_:
_A MAN OF HONOUR_
_LADY FREDERICK_
_JACK STRAW_
_MRS. DOT_
_PENELOPE_
(_In Preparation_)
_SMITH_
_THE TENTH MAN_
_GRACE_
_LOAVES AND FISHES_
_LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN_
_THE EXPLORER
A MELODRAMA
In Four Acts
By W. S. MAUGHAM
LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
MCMXII_
_All rights reserved_
This play was first produced at the Lyric Theatre on Saturday, June 13,
1908, with the following cast:
ALEXANDER MACKENZIE LEWIS WALLER
RICHARD LOMAS A. E. GEORGE
DR. ADAMSON CHARLES ROCK
SIR ROBERT BOULGER, BT. OWEN ROUGHWOOD
GEORGE ALLERTON SHIEL BARRY
REV. JAMES CARBERY S. J. WARMINGTON
CAPTAIN MALLINS A. CATON WOODVILLE
MILLER CHARLES CECIL
CHARLES P. DIGAN
MRS. CROWLEY EVA MOORE
LADY KELSEY MARY RORKE
LUCY ALLERTON EVELYN MILLARD
_THE EXPLORER
CHARACTERS_
ALEXANDER MACKENZIE
RICHARD LOMAS
DR. ADAMSON
SIR ROBERT BOULGER, BT.
GEORGE ALLERTON
THE REV. JAMES CARBERY
CAPTAIN MALLINS
MILLER
CHARLES
LADY KELSEY
MRS. CROWLEY
LUCY ALLERTON
TIME: _The Present Day._
SCENE: _The First and Third Acts take place at Lady Kelsey's house; the
Second at Mackenzie's camp in Central Africa; and the Fourth at the
house of Richard Lomas._
_The Performing Rights of this play are fully protected, and permission
to perform it, whether by Amateurs or Professionals, must be obtained in
advance from the author's Sole Agent, R. Golding Bright, 20 Green
Street, Leicester Square, London, W.C., from whom all particulars can be
obtained._
THE EXPLORER
THE FIRST ACT
SCENE: LADY KELSEY'S _drawing-room in Mayfair. At the back is a
window leading on to a balcony. On the right a door leads to the
staircase, and on the left is another door. It is the sumptuous
room of a rich woman._
[LADY KELSEY _is seated, dressed in black; she is a woman of fifty,
kind, emotional, and agitated. She is drying her eyes._ MRS.
CROWLEY, _a pretty little woman of twenty-eight, very beautifully
dressed, vivacious and gesticulative, is watching her quietly. The_
REV. JAMES CARBERY, _a young curate, tall and impressive in
appearance, ponderous and self-important, is very immaculate in a
silk waistcoat and a large gold cross._
CARBERY.
I cannot tell you how sincerely I feel for you in this affliction, Lady
Kelsey.
LADY KELSEY.
You're very kind. Every one has been very kind. But I shall never get
over it. I shall never hold up my head again.
MRS. CROWLEY.
Nonsense! You talk as if the whole thing weren't perfectly monstrous.
Surely you don't for a moment suppose that your brother-in-law won't be
able to explain everything away?
LADY KELSEY.
God forbid! But still, it's dreadful to think that at this very moment
my poor sister's husband is standing in the felon's dock.
CARBERY.
Dreadful, dreadful!
LADY KELSEY.
If you only knew the agonies I've suffered since Fred was arrested! At
first I couldn't believe it, I wouldn't believe it. If I'd only known
such a thing was possible, I'd have done anything to help him.
CARBERY.
But had you any idea he was in difficulties?
LADY KELSEY.
He came to me and said he must have three thousand pounds at once. But
I'd given him money so often since my poor sister died, and every one
said I oughtn't to give him any more. After all, someone must look after
his children, and if I don't hoard my money a little, George and Lucy
will be penniless.
MRS. CROWLEY.
Oh, you were quite right to refuse.
LADY KELSEY.
I thought it would only go in senseless extravagances as all the rest
has gone, and when he said it was a matter of life and death, I couldn't
believe it. He'd said that so often.
CARBERY.
It's shocking to think a man of his position and abilities should have
come to such a pass.
MRS. CROWLEY.
Dear Mr. Carbery, don't draw the very obvious moral. We're all quite
wretched enough as it is.
LADY KELSEY.
And two days later Lucy came to me with a white face to say that he had
been arrested for forging a cheque.
CARBERY.
I only met him once, and I'm bound to say I thought him a most charming
man.
LADY KELSEY.
Ah, that's what ruined him. He was always so entirely delightful. He
could never say no to any one. But there's not an atom of harm in him.
I'm quite certain he's never done anything criminal; he may have been
foolish, but wicked never.
MRS. CROWLEY.
Of course he'll be able to clear himself. There's not the least doubt
about that.
LADY KELSEY.
But think of the disgrace of it. A public trial. And Fred Allerton of
all people! The Allertons were always so proud of their family. It was
almost a mania with them.
MRS. CROWLEY.
For centuries they've cherished the firm belief that there was no one in
the county fit to black their boots.
CARBERY.
Pride goeth before a fall.
MRS. CROWLEY.
[_Smiling._] And proverbs before a clergyman.
LADY KELSEY.
They wouldn't give him bail, so he's remained in prison till now. Of
course, I made Lucy and George come here.
MRS. CROWLEY.
You've been quite charming, Lady Kelsey, as every one knew you'd be. But
don't think of these wretched weeks of suspense. Think only that Mr.
Allerton has got his chance at last. Why, the trial may be over now, and
he may this very minute be on his way to this house.
CARBERY.
What will he do when it's over? The position will be surely a little
unpleasant.
LADY KELSEY.
I've talked it over with Lucy, and--I've made it possible for them all
to go abroad. They'll need rest and quiet. Poor things, poor things!
CARBERY.
I suppose Miss Allerton and George are at the Old Bailey.
LADY KELSEY.
No, their father begged them to stay away. They've been in all day,
waiting for the papers.
MRS. CROWLEY.
But who is going to bring you the news? Surely you're not going to wait
for the papers?
LADY KELSEY.
Oh, no, Dick Lomas is coming. He's one of the witnesses for Fred, and my
nephew Bobby Boulger.
MRS. CROWLEY.
And what about Mr. Mackenzie? He told me he would be there.
CARBERY.
Is that the great traveller? I thought I saw in the paper that he'd
already started for Africa.
LADY KELSEY.
Not yet. He's going at the beginning of the month. Oh, he's been so good
to us during this time. All our friends have been good to us.
CARBERY.
I shouldn't have thought there was much of the milk of human kindness to
overflow in Alexander Mackenzie. By all accounts he dealt with the
slave-traders in Africa with a good deal of vigour.
MRS. CROWLEY.
The slave-traders must be quaking in their shoes if they know he's
starting out again, for he's made up his mind to exterminate them, and
when Alec Mackenzie makes up his mind to do a thing, he appears to do
it.
LADY KELSEY.
He has the reputation of a hard man, but no one could be more delightful
than he has been to me.
MRS. CROWLEY.
I don't think I like him, but he's certainly a strong man, and in
England just now every one's so weak and floppy, it's rather a relief to
come across somebody who's got a will of iron and nerves of steel.
[GEORGE ALLERTON _comes in_. _He is a very
young man, good-looking, though at the
moment pale and haggard, with a rather
weak face._
GEORGE.
I thought Lucy was here. [_To_ CARBERY _and_ MRS. CROWLEY.] How d'you
do? Have you seen Lucy?
MRS. CROWLEY.
I went to her room for a moment.
GEORGE.
What is she doing?
MRS. CROWLEY.
Reading.
GEORGE.
I wish I could take it as calmly as she does. An outsider would think
there was nothing the matter at all. Oh, it's too awful!
LADY KELSEY.
My dear, you must bear up. We must all hope for the best.
GEORGE.
But there is no best. Whatever happens, it means disgrace and dishonour.
How could he? How could he?
LADY KELSEY.
No one knows your father as I do, George. I'm sure he's never been
anything but thoughtless and foolish.
GEORGE.
Of course he's not been actually criminal. That's absurd. But it's bad
enough as it is.
MRS. CROWLEY.
You mustn't take it too much to heart. In another half-hour at the
utmost your father will be here with everything cleared up, and you'll
be able to go back to Oxford with a clear conscience.
GEORGE.
D'you think I can go to Oxford again when my father has been tried for
forgery? No, no! No, no! I'd rather shoot myself.
LADY KELSEY.
My poor boy.... Where have you been all day?
GEORGE.
Heaven knows! I've walked through the streets till I'm dog-tired. Oh,
the suspense is too awful. My feet carried me to the Old Bailey, and I
would have given anything to go in and see how things were going, but
I'd promised the Pater I wouldn't.
LADY KELSEY.
How did he look this morning?
GEORGE.
He was most awfully worn and ill. I don't believe he'll ever get over
it. I saw his counsel before the case began. They told me it was bound
to come all right.
MRS. CROWLEY.
Is there anything in the evening papers?
GEORGE.
I haven't dared to look. The placards are awful.
CARBERY.
Why, what do they say?
GEORGE.
Can't you imagine? "Gentleman charged with forgery." "County gentleman
at the Old Bailey." And all the rest of it. Damn them! Damn them!
LADY KELSEY.
It may be all over by now.
GEORGE.
I feel that I shall never sleep again. I couldn't close my eyes last
night. To think that one's own father....
LADY KELSEY.
For goodness' sake be quiet.
GEORGE.
[_Starting._] There's a ring at the bell.
LADY KELSEY.
I've given orders that no one is to be admitted but Dick Lomas and
Bobbie.
MRS. CROWLEY.
It must be finished by now. It's one or the other of them come to tell
you the result.
LADY KELSEY.
Oh, I'm so frightfully anxious.
GEORGE.
Aunt, you don't think....
LADY KELSEY.
No, no, of course not. They _must_ find him not guilty.
[_The_ BUTLER _enters followed by_ DICK LOMAS,
_a clean-shaven dapper man, with a sharp
face and good-natured smile. He is between
thirty-five and forty, but slim and youthful.
With him comes_ SIR ROBERT BOULGER,
LADY KELSEY'S _nephew, a good-looking,
spruce youth of twenty-two_.
BUTLER.
Mr. Lomas, Sir Robert Boulger.
GEORGE.
[_Excitedly._] Well, well? For God's sake tell us quickly.
DICK.
My dear people, I have nothing to tell.
GEORGE.
Oh!
[_He staggers with sudden faintness and falls
to the floor._
DICK.
Hulloa! What's this?
MRS. CROWLEY.
Poor boy!
[_They crowd round him._
GEORGE.
It's all right. What a fool I am! I was so strung up.
DICK.
You'd better come to the window.
[_He and_ BOULGER _take the boy's arms and lead
him to the window_. GEORGE _leans against
the balcony_.
CARBERY.
I'm afraid I must go away. Every Wednesday at four I read _Little Lord
Fauntleroy_ to forty charwomen.
LADY KELSEY.
Good-bye. And thanks so much for coming.
MRS. CROWLEY.
[_Shaking hands with him._] Good-bye. A clergyman always helps one so
much to bear other people's misfortunes.
[CARBERY _goes out, and in a moment_ ROBERT
BOULGER _comes back into the room_.
LADY KELSEY.
Is he better?
BOULGER.
Oh, much. He'll be all right in a minute. [LADY KELSEY _goes to the
window, and he turns to_ MRS. CROWLEY.] You are a brick to come here
to-day, when they're all in such awful trouble.
MRS. CROWLEY.
[_With a little hesitation._] Did you really come away before the trial
was ended?
BOULGER.
Why, of course. What did you think? You don't imagine they'll convict
him?
MRS. CROWLEY.
It's too dreadful.
BOULGER.
Where is Lucy? I was hoping to get a glimpse of her.
MRS. CROWLEY.
I wouldn't trouble her to-day if I were you. I think she most wants to
be left alone.
BOULGER.
I wanted to tell her that if I could do anything at all, she had only to
command.
MRS. CROWLEY.
I think she knows that. But I'll give her the message if you like....
You're very devoted.
BOULGER.
I've been madly in love with her ever since I was ten.
MRS. CROWLEY.
Take care then. There's nothing so tedious as the constant lover.
[DICK _comes into the room and speaks to_
ROBERT BOULGER.
DICK.
George is quite well now. He wants you to smoke a cigarette with him.
BOULGER.
Certainly.
[_He goes on to the balcony._
DICK.
[_When_ BOULGER _is gone_.] At least, he will the moment he sees you.
MRS. CROWLEY.
What do you mean by that?
DICK.
Merely that I wanted to talk to you. And Robert Boulger, being a youth
of somewhat limited intelligence, seemed in the way.
MRS. CROWLEY.
Why did you leave the Old Bailey?
DICK.
My dear lady, I couldn't stand it. You don't know what it is to sit
there and watch a man tortured, a man you've known all your life, whom
you've dined with times out of number, in whose house you've stayed. He
had just the look of a hunted beast, and his face was grey with terror.
MRS. CROWLEY.
How was the case going?
DICK.
I couldn't judge. I could only see those haggard, despairing eyes.
MRS. CROWLEY.
But you're a barrister. You must have heard his answers. What did he
reply to all the questions?
DICK.
He seemed quite dazed. I don't think he took in the gist of his
cross-examination.
MRS. CROWLEY.
But the man's innocent.
DICK.
Yes, we all hope that.
MRS. CROWLEY.
What d'you mean? There can be no doubt about that. When he was arrested
Lucy went to him and begged him to tell her the exact truth. He swore
that he wasn't guilty.
DICK.
Poor Lucy! She's borne up wonderfully. She'll stick to her father
through thick and thin.
MRS. CROWLEY.
[_Abruptly._] Mr. Lomas, you're trying to put me off. It's not fair to
let Lucy buoy herself up with false hopes. She's absolutely convinced
that her father will be acquitted.
DICK.
Well, in another half-hour we shall all know. When I left, the judge was
just going to sum up.
MRS. CROWLEY.
Mr. Lomas, what is your opinion?
[_He looks at her steadily for a moment._
DICK.
Were you very much surprised when you heard Fred Allerton was arrested?
MRS. CROWLEY.
Good heavens, I was overwhelmed!
DICK.
[_Dryly._] Ah!
MRS. CROWLEY.
If you aggravate me I shall box your ears.
DICK.
When first I knew Fred he was a very rich man. You know that the
Allertons are one of the oldest families in Cheshire?
MRS. CROWLEY.
Yes. I think Lucy's only failing is an inordinate pride in her family.
She thinks it very snobbish to have any particular respect for a peer of
the realm, but only natural to look up to persons of good family.
DICK.
Ah, you see, you and I who have a quite indecent lack of ancestors,
can't realise what the cult of family may be. There are families in the
remote parts of England--not very rich, not very clever, and not very
good-looking--who would look askance at a belted earl who came to demand
their daughter's hand in marriage. They have a natural conviction that
they're the salt of the earth, and in their particular corner they rule
more absolutely than half the monarchs in Europe. The Allertons were
like that. But Fred somehow seemed to belong to a different stock. The
first thing he did was to play ducks and drakes with his fortune.
MRS. CROWLEY.
But men ought to be extravagant. That's what they're there for.
DICK.
Women always took his side because he had an irresistible charm of
manner.
MRS. CROWLEY.
I think George has, too, a little.
DICK.
I hope for Lucy's sake he will turn out a different man from his father.
I wish he weren't so like him in appearance. At last Fred Allerton had
squandered every penny, and he married Lady Kelsey's sister, one of the
three rich daughters of a Liverpool merchant. But he ran through her
money, too, gambling, racing, and so forth, and she died of a broken
heart--adoring him still.
MRS. CROWLEY.
You're as well informed as an encyclopædia, Mr. Lomas.
DICK.
You see, I was made the trustee for the poor remains of Mrs. Allerton's
fortune, and I know how Lucy has managed to keep all their heads above
water. She's wonderful. Ever since she was a child she's held the reins
in her own hands. She's stuck to her father, though Lady Kelsey implored
her to leave him to his own foolish ways. She saw that George was
decently educated. She hid from the world all the little shifts and
devices to which she had to resort in order to keep up an appearance of
decency.
MRS. CROWLEY.
I suppose you, too, think Fred Allerton little better than a scamp?
DICK.
My dear lady, when a man has had to leave his club because he plays
cards too well, it's at least permissible to suppose that there's
something odd about him.
MRS. CROWLEY.
Here's Lady Kelsey. For heaven's sake try and amuse her a little.
[LADY KELSEY _comes back into the room_.
LADY KELSEY.
Oh, Dick, I'm so full of my own troubles, I forgot to ask about yours.
I'm so sorry to hear that you're ill.
DICK.
On the contrary, I'm in the very best of health.
LADY KELSEY.
But I saw in the papers that you were going to give up your seat in the
House owing to ill-health.
DICK.
Of course, I'd forgotten. My heart is seriously deranged.
MRS. CROWLEY.
How dreadful! What is the matter with it?
DICK.
Can you ask? I've banged it about at your feet so long that its
functions are excessively impaired. And it's beaten all my waistcoats
out of shape.
MRS. CROWLEY.
Don't be so foolish. I was quite alarmed.
DICK.
I'm going to retire.
LADY KELSEY.
From the bar as well?
DICK.
From the bar as well. Henceforth I shall cultivate only such arts and
graces as are proper to the man of leisure. My fellow men are a great
deal too strenuous, and I propose to offer them the spectacle of a
complete idler who demands from the world neither honours nor profit,
but only entertainment.
MRS. CROWLEY.
D'you mean to say you're going to give up a large practice and a
position which may be very important merely to gratify a foolish whim?
DICK.
I haven't time to work. Life is so much too short. A little while ago it
occurred to me that I was nearly forty. [_To_ MRS. CROWLEY.] D'you know
the feeling?
MRS. CROWLEY.
No, of course not. Don't be so uncivil.
DICK.
By the way, how old are you?
MRS. CROWLEY.
Twenty-nine!
DICK.
Nonsense! There's no such age.
MRS. CROWLEY.
I beg your pardon, upper parlourmaids are always twenty-nine.
DICK.
For years I've spent eight hours a day meddling with silly persons'
silly quarrels, and eight hours more governing the nation. I've never
been able to spend more than half my income. I'm merely working myself
to death in order to leave a fortune to my nieces, two desperately plain
girls with red noses.
LADY KELSEY.
But what are you going to do?
DICK.
Oh, I don't know. Perhaps I'll try my hand at big game shooting, if Alec
will take me on this expedition of his. I've always thought shooting
would be an agreeable pastime if partridges were the size of well-grown
sheep and pheasants a little larger than a cow.
MRS. CROWLEY.
Then the breakdown in your health is all humbug?
DICK.
Absolute humbug. If I were to tell the truth people would shut me up in
a lunatic asylum. I've come to the conclusion that there's only one game
in the world worth playing, and that's the game of life. I'm rich enough
to devote myself to it entirely.
MRS. CROWLEY.
But you'll get bored to death.
DICK.
Not I! Why, I'm growing younger every day. My dear Mrs. Crowley, I don't
feel a day more than eighteen.
MRS. CROWLEY.
You certainly look quite twenty-five.
DICK.
I haven't a white hair in my head.
MRS. CROWLEY.
I suppose your servant plucks them out every morning.
DICK.
Oh, very rarely. One a month at the outside.
MRS. CROWLEY.
I think I see one on the left temple.
DICK.
Really! How careless of Charles! I must speak to him.
MRS. CROWLEY.
Let me pluck it out.
DICK.
I shall allow you to do nothing so familiar.
[GEORGE _comes hurriedly into the room_.
GEORGE.
There's Alec Mackenzie. He's just driven up in a cab.
DICK.
He must have come from the trial. Then it's all over.
LADY KELSEY.
Quick! Go to the stairs, or Miller won't let him up.
[GEORGE _runs across the room and opens the door_.
GEORGE.
[_Calling._] Miller, Miller, Mr. Mackenzie's to come up.
[LUCY ALLERTON, _hearing a commotion, comes in. She is older than
George, a tall girl, white now, with eyes heavy from want of sleep. She
has lived in the country all her life, and has brought up to London a
sort of remoteness from the world. She is beautiful in a very English
manner, and her clear-cut features are an index to a character in which
the moral notions are peculiarly rigid. Self-control is a quality which
she possesses in a marked degree, and one which she enormously admires
in others_.
LUCY.
Who is it?
GEORGE.
It's Alec Mackenzie. He's come from the trial!
LUCY.
Then it's finished at last. [_She shakes hands with_ DICK.] It's so good
of you to come.
BOULGER.
You're perfectly wonderful, Lucy. How can you be so calm?
LUCY.
Because I'm quite sure of the result. D'you imagine I'd doubt my father
for a moment?
DICK.
Oh, Lucy, for heaven's sake don't be so sure. You must be prepared for
everything.
LUCY.
Oh, no, I know my father. D'you think I've not studied him during these
years that I've looked after him? He's a child, with all a child's
thoughtlessness and simplicity. And God knows, he's weak. I know his
faults better than any one, but it would be impossible for him to do
anything criminal.
[_The_ BUTLER _enters, followed by_ ALEC MACKENZIE.
ALEC _is a tall, wiry man, well-knit,
with dark hair and a small red
moustache and beard, cut close to the face.
He is about five-and-thirty. He has great
ease of manner, and there is about him an
air as though he were accustomed that
people should do as he told them._
BUTLER.
Mr. Mackenzie!
GEORGE.
Is it finished? For God's sake tell us quickly, old man.
LUCY.
Why didn't father come with you? Is he following?
ALEC.
Yes, it's all over.
LADY KELSEY.
Thank goodness. The suspense was really too dreadful.
GEORGE.
I knew they'd acquit him. Thank God!
DICK.
[_Looking at_ ALEC'S _face_.] Take care, George.
[_Suddenly_ LUCY _goes up to_ ALEC _and looks at
him. An expression of horror distorts her
features._
MRS. CROWLEY.
Lucy, what is it?
ALEC.
I don't know how I am going to tell you.
LUCY.
You say the trial was over when you came away?
ALEC.
Yes.
LUCY.
The jury had given their verdict?
GEORGE.
Lucy, what are you driving at? You don't think ...?
ALEC.
Your father asked me to come and break it to you.
GEORGE.
He's not dead?
ALEC.
Perhaps it would be better if he were.
LUCY.
They found him guilty?
ALEC.
Yes.
GEORGE.
[_With a groan of despair._] Oh! But it's impossible.
LUCY.
[_Putting her hand on his arm._] Ssh!
LADY KELSEY.
My God, my God! I'm thankful that his wife is dead.
LUCY.
I'm awfully stupid, but if he was innocent, how could they find him
guilty? I don't know what you mean.
ALEC.
I am afraid it's very clear.
LUCY.
There must be some horrible mistake.
ALEC.
I wish there were.
GEORGE.
[_Breaking down into tears and sinking into a chair._] Oh, God! What
shall I do?
LUCY.
Don't do that, George. We want all our calmness now.
GEORGE.
Don't you see they all expected it? It was only you and I who believed
in his innocence.
LUCY.
[_To_ ALEC.] Did you hear the evidence?
ALEC.
Yes.
LUCY.
And you followed it carefully?
ALEC.
Very.
LUCY.
What impression did it leave on your mind?
ALEC.
What can it matter how it affected me?
LUCY.
I want to know.
DICK.
Lucy, you're torturing us all.
LUCY.
If you had been on the jury would your verdict have been the same as
theirs?
ALEC.
I should have been obliged to judge according to my conscience.
LUCY.
I see. And you have no doubt that he was guilty?
ALEC.
Don't ask me these horrible questions.
LUCY.
But it's very important. I know that you are a perfectly honest and
upright man. If you think he was guilty, there is nothing more to be
said.
ALEC.
The case was so plain that the jury were not out of the box for more
than ten minutes.
LUCY.
Did the judge say anything?
ALEC.
[_Hesitatingly._] He said there could be no doubt about the justice of
the verdict.
LUCY.
What else?... [_He looks at her without answering._] You had better tell
me now. I shall see it in the papers to-morrow.
ALEC.
[_As though the words were dragged out of him._] He called it a very
mean and shameful crime, worse than another man's because your father
was a gentleman of ancient family and bore a name of great honour.
DICK.
[_To_ MRS. CROWLEY.] These judges have a weakness for pointing a moral.
LUCY.
And what was the sentence? [_A pause._] Well?
ALEC.
Seven years' penal servitude.
GEORGE.
Oh, God!
DICK.
My dear girl, I can't tell you how sorry I am.
LADY KELSEY.
Lucy, what is it? You frighten me.
LUCY.
Try and bear up, George. We want all the strength we've got, you and I.
[MRS. CROWLEY _puts her arms round_ LUCY _and kisses her._
MRS. CROWLEY.
Oh, my dear, my dear!
LUCY.
[_Disengaging herself._] You're all very kind, and I know you sympathise
with me....
MRS. CROWLEY.
[_Interrupting her._] You know that we'll do everything we can to help
you.
LUCY.
It's so good of you. There's really nothing that any one can do. Would
you all mind leaving me alone with George? We must talk this over by
ourselves.
MRS. CROWLEY.
Very well. Mr. Lomas, will you put me into a cab?
DICK.
Certainly. [_To_ LUCY.] Good-bye, dear, and God bless you.
LUCY.
[_Shaking hands with him._] Don't worry too much about me. If there's
anything I want, I'll let you know.
DICK.
Thanks.
[_He goes out with_ MRS. CROWLEY.
ALEC.
May I speak to you for a few minutes alone?
LUCY.
Not now, Mr. Mackenzie. I don't want to seem rude, but ...
ALEC.
[_Interrupting._] I know, and I wouldn't insist unless it were a matter
of the most urgent importance.
LUCY.
Very well. George, will you take Aunt Alice to her room? I shall want
you in a moment.
GEORGE.
Yes.
LUCY.
[_To_ LADY KELSEY.] Won't you lie down and try and sleep a little? You
must be dreadfully exhausted.
LADY KELSEY.
Ah, don't think of me now, dear. Think of yourself.
LUCY.
[_Smiling._] It's purely selfish. It eases me a little to fuss about
you.
GEORGE.
I'll wait in the smoking-room, Lucy.
LUCY.
Do!
[GEORGE _and_ LADY KELSEY _go out._
ALEC.
I think your self-command is wonderful. I've never admired you more than
at this moment.
LUCY.
You make me feel such a prig. It's not really very strange if I keep my
head, because I've had an immensely long training. Since I was fifteen
I've been alone to care for George and my father.... Won't you sit down?
ALEC.
I can say what I want in a very few words. You know that in a week I
start for Mombassa to take charge of the expedition in North-East
Africa. I may be away for three or four years, and I shall be exposed to
a certain amount of danger. When I left Africa last time to gather
supplies, I determined I would crush those wretched slave-traders, and
now I think I have the means to do it.
LUCY.
I think you are engaged on a very great work.
ALEC.
I don't know whether you ever noticed that--that I cared more for you
than for any one in the world. But with the long journey in front of me
I didn't think it was right to say anything to you. It wasn't fair to
ask you to bind yourself during my long absence. And there was always
the risk that a stray bullet might put an end to me. I made up my mind
that I must wait till I returned. But things have changed now. Lucy, I
love you with all my heart. Will you marry me before I go?
LUCY.
No, I can't do that. It's very generous of you, but I couldn't.
ALEC.
Why not? Don't you know that I love you? It would help me so much if I
knew that you were waiting for me at home.
LUCY.
I must look after my father. I shall go and live near the--prison, so
that I can see him whenever it's possible.
ALEC.
You can do that as well if you're my wife.... You have before you a very
difficult and trying time. Won't you let me help you?
LUCY.
I couldn't. Heaven knows, I'm grateful to you for offering to marry me
on this day of my bitter humiliation. I shall never forget your great
kindness. But I must stand alone. I must devote myself to my father.
When he's released I must have a home to bring him to, and I must tend
him and care for him. Ah, now he wants me more than ever.
ALEC.
You're very proud.
LUCY.
[_Giving him her hand._] Dear friend, don't think hardly of me. I think
I love you as much as it's possible for a woman to love a man.
ALEC.
Lucy!
LUCY.
[_With a smile._] Did you want me to tell you that in so many words? I
admire you, and I trust you. I should be very happy if George could grow
into so brave and honest a man as you.
ALEC.
They're very modest crumbs with which you want me to be satisfied.
LUCY.
I know in your heart you think I'm right. You would never seek to
dissuade me from what I'm convinced is my duty.
ALEC.
Can't I do anything for you at all?
[_She looks at him for a moment intently. She rings the bell._
LUCY.
Yes, you can do me the greatest possible service.
ALEC.
I'm so glad. What is it you mean?
LUCY.
Wait, and I'll tell you. [_The_ BUTLER _enters._] Ask Mr. George to come
here, please.
BUTLER.
Very well, Miss.
[_He goes out._
LUCY.
I want you to help me.
[GEORGE _comes in._
GEORGE.
Yes, Lucy?
LUCY.
I want to give into your charge what I love most in the world....
George, have you thought at all what you're going to do now? I'm afraid
you can't go back to Oxford.
GEORGE.
No, I don't know what's to become of me. I wish I were dead.
LUCY.
An idea has just come to me. I'm going to ask Mr. Mackenzie to take you
with him to Africa. Will you go?
GEORGE.
Yes, yes! I'd do anything to get away from England. I daren't face my
friends--I'm too ashamed.
LUCY.
Ah, but it's not to hide yourself that I want you to go. Mr. Mackenzie,
I daresay you know that we've always been very proud of our name. And
now it's hopelessly dishonoured.
GEORGE.
Lucy, for God's sake ...
LUCY.
[_Turning to him._] Now our only hope is in you. You have the
opportunity of achieving a great thing. You can bring back the old name
to its old honour. Oh, I wish I were a man. I can do nothing but wait
and watch. If I could only fill you with my courage and with my
ambition! Mr. Mackenzie, you asked if you could do anything for me. You
can give George the chance of wiping out the shame of our family.
ALEC.
Do you know that he will have to suffer every sort of danger and
privation, that often he will be parched by the heat, and often soaked
to the skin for days together? Sometimes he'll not have enough to eat,
and he'll have to work harder than a navvy.
LUCY.
Do you hear, George? Are you willing to go?
GEORGE.
I'll do anything you want me to, Lucy.
ALEC.
And you know that he may get killed. There may be a good deal of
fighting.
LUCY.
If he dies a brave man's death, I have nothing more to ask.
ALEC.
[_To_ GEORGE.] Very well. Come with me, and I'll do my best for you.
LUCY.
Ah, thanks. You are really my friend.
ALEC.
And when I come back?
LUCY.
Then, if you still care, ask your question again.
ALEC.
And the answer?
LUCY.
[_With a little smile._] The answer, perhaps, will be different.
END OF THE FIRST ACT
THE SECOND ACT
SCENE: ALEC MACKENZIE'S _tent in North-East Africa. It is night.
The place is dimly lighted. There is a little camp bed in one
corner with a mosquito net over it. There are two or three folding
chairs, some tin cases, and a table. On this a gun is lying._
DICK _is seated with his head on his hands, leaning on the table,
fast asleep_. DR. ADAMSON, _the surgeon of the expedition, comes
in. He is a large-boned brawny fellow with a Scotch accent. He
looks at_ DICK _and smiles_.
DOCTOR.
Hulloa, there! [DICK _starts up and seizes the gun. The_ DOCTOR
_laughs_.] All right. Don't shoot. It's only me.
DICK.
[_With a laugh._] Why the dickens did you wake me up? I was
dreaming--dreaming of a high-heeled boot and a neat ankle, and the swish
of a white lace petticoat.
DOCTOR.
I thought I'd just have a look at your arm.
DICK.
It's one of the most æsthetic sights I know.
DOCTOR.
Your arm?
DICK.
A pretty woman crossing Piccadilly at Swan and Edgar's. You are a
savage, my good doctor, and a barbarian. You don't know the care and
forethought, the hours of anxious meditation, it has needed for her to
hold up that well-made skirt with the elegant grace which enchants you.
DOCTOR.
I'm afraid you're a very immoral man, Lomas.
DICK.
Ah, my dear fellow, at my time of life I have to content myself with
condemning the behaviour of the younger generation. Even a camp bed in a
stuffy tent with mosquitoes buzzing all around me has allurements
greater than those of youth and beauty. And I declare for all women to
hear that I am proof against their wiles. Give me a comfortable bed to
sleep in, plenty to eat, tobacco to smoke, and Amaryllis may go hang.
DOCTOR.
Well, let's look at this wound of yours. Has it been throbbing at all?
DICK.
Oh, it's not worth bothering about. It'll be all right to-morrow.
DOCTOR.
I'll put a clean dressing on all the same.
DICK.
All right. [_He takes off his coat and rolls up his sleeve. His arm is
bandaged, and during the next speeches the_ DOCTOR _puts on a dressing
and a clean bandage_.] You must be pretty well done up, aren't you?
DOCTOR.
Just about dropping. But I've got a deuce of a lot more work before I
turn in.
DICK.
The thing that amuses me is to remember that I came to Africa thinking I
was going to have a rattling good time.
DOCTOR.
You couldn't exactly describe it as a picnic, could you? But I don't
suppose any of us knew it would be such a tough job as it's turned out.
DICK.
My friend, if ever I return to my native land, I will never be such a
crass and blithering idiot as to give way again to a spirit of
adventure.
DOCTOR.
[_With a laugh._] You're not the sort of chap whom one would expect to
take to African work. Why the blazes did you come?
DICK.
That's precisely what I've been asking myself ever since we landed in
this God-forsaken swamp.
DOCTOR.
The wound looks healthy enough. It'll hardly even leave a scar.
DICK.
I'm glad that my fatal beauty won't be injured.... You see, Alec's about
the oldest friend I have. And then there's young Allerton, I've known
him ever since he was a kid.
DOCTOR.
That's an acquaintance that most of us wouldn't boast about.
DICK.
I had an idea I'd like Bond Street all the better when I got back. I
never knew that I should be eaten alive by every kind of disgusting
animal by night and day. I say, Doctor, do you ever think of a rump
steak?
DOCTOR.
When?
DICK.
[_With a wave of the hand._] Sometimes, when we're marching under a sun
that just about takes the roof of your head off, and we've had the
scantiest and most uncomfortable breakfast possible, I have a vision.
DOCTOR.
D'you mind only gesticulating with one arm?
DICK.
I see the dining-room of my club and myself sitting at a little table by
the window looking out on Piccadilly, and there's a spotless tablecloth,
and all the accessories are spick and span. An obsequious servant brings
me a rump steak, grilled to perfection, and so tender that it melts in
the mouth. And he puts by my side a plate of crisp, fried potatoes.
Can't you smell them?
DOCTOR.
[_Laughing._] Shut up!
DICK.
And then another obsequious servant brings me a pewter tankard, and into
it he pours a bottle, a large bottle, mind you, of foaming ale.
DOCTOR.
You've certainly added considerably to our cheerfulness.
DICK.
[_With a shrug of the shoulders._] I've often been driven to appease the
pangs of raging hunger with a careless epigram, and by the laborious
composition of a limerick I have sought to deceive a most unholy
thirst.
DOCTOR.
Well, last night I thought you'd made your last joke, old man, and that
I had given my last dose of quinine.
DICK.
We were in rather a tight corner, weren't we?
DOCTOR.
This is the third expedition I've gone with Mackenzie against the
slave-raiders, and I promise you I've never been so certain that all was
over with us.
DICK.
Funny thing death is, you know. When you think of it beforehand, it
makes you squirm in your shoes, but when you've just got it face to
face, it seems so obvious that you forget to be afraid. It's one of my
principles never to be impressed by a platitude.
DOCTOR.
It's only by a miracle we escaped. If those Arabs hadn't hesitated to
attack us just those ten minutes we should have been wiped out.
DICK.
Alec was splendid, wasn't he?
DOCTOR.
Yes, by Jove! He thought we were done for.
DICK.
What makes you think that?
DOCTOR.
Well, you see, I know him pretty well. He's been a pal of yours for
twenty years in England, but I've been with him out here three times,
and I tell you there's not much about a man that you don't know then.
DICK.
Well?
DOCTOR.
Well, when things are going smoothly and everything's flourishing, he's
apt to be a bit irritable. He keeps rather to himself, and he doesn't
say much unless you do something he doesn't approve of.
DICK.
And then, by Jove, he comes down on one like a thousand of bricks. It's
not for nothing the natives call him Thunder and Lightning.
DOCTOR.
But when things begin to look black, his spirits go up like one o'clock.
And the worse they are, the more cheerful he is.
DICK.
It's one of his most irritating characteristics.
DOCTOR.
When every one is starving with hunger, and dead tired, and soaked to
the skin, Mackenzie fairly bubbles over with good-humour.
DICK.
When I'm in a bad temper, I much prefer every one else to be in a bad
temper too.
DOCTOR.
These last few days, he's been positively hilarious. Yesterday he was
cracking jokes with the natives.
DICK.
[_Dryly._] Scotch jokes. I daresay they sound funny in an African
dialect.
DOCTOR.
I've never seen him more cheerful. I said to myself: By the Lord Harry,
the chief thinks we're in a devil of a bad way.
DICK.
Thank Heaven, it's all over now. We've none of us had any sleep for
three days, and when I once get off, I don't mean to wake up for a week.
DOCTOR.
I must go and see the rest of my patients. Perkins has got a bad dose of
fever this time. He was quite delirious a while ago.
DICK.
By Jove, I'd almost forgotten. How one changes out here! Here am I
feeling happy and comfortable and inclined to make a little jest or two,
and I've forgotten already that poor Richardson is dead and Lord knows
how many natives.
DOCTOR.
Poor chap, we could ill spare him. The fates never choose the right man.
DICK.
What do you mean by that?
DOCTOR.
If we had to lose some one, it would have been a damned sight better if
that young cub had got the bullet which killed poor Richardson.
DICK.
George Allerton?
DOCTOR.
He wouldn't have been much loss, would he?
DICK.
No, I'm afraid he wouldn't.
DOCTOR.
Mackenzie has been very patient with him. I wonder he didn't send him
back to the coast months ago, when he sacked Macinnery.
DICK.
Poor George, everything has been against him.
DOCTOR.
Some men have got natures so crooked that with every chance in the world
to go straight they can't manage it. The only thing is to let them go
to the devil as best they may.
DICK.
Alec was bound to give him another chance. [ALEC MACKENZIE _comes in_.]
Hulloa, Alec! Where have you been?
ALEC.
I've been going the round of the outlying sentries.
DICK.
All serene?
ALEC.
Yes. I've just seen a native messenger that Mindabi sent to me.
DOCTOR.
Anything important?
ALEC.
[_Curtly._] Yes. How's the arm, Dick?
DICK.
Oh, that's nothing. It's only a scratch.
ALEC.
You'd better not make too light of it. The smallest wound has a way of
being troublesome in this country.
DOCTOR.
He'll be all right in a day or two.
ALEC.
How are the others?
DOCTOR.
They're going on pretty well on the whole. Perkins, of course, will be
down for some days longer. And some of the natives are rather badly
hurt. Those devils have got explosive bullets.
ALEC.
Any one in great danger?
DOCTOR.
No, I don't think so. There are two men who are in rather a bad way, but
all they want is rest.
ALEC.
I see.
DICK.
I say, have you had anything to eat lately?
ALEC.
[_With a laugh._] Good Lord! I quite forgot. I wonder when the dickens I
had some food last.
DICK.
[_Smiling._] You've had nothing to-day, have you?
ALEC.
No, I don't think so. Those Arabs kept us so confoundedly busy.
DICK.
You must be devilish hungry.
ALEC.
Now you mention it, I think I am. And thirsty, by Jove! I wouldn't give
my thirst for an elephant tusk.
DICK.
And to think there's nothing but tepid water to drink!
DOCTOR.
I'll go and tell the boy to bring you some food. It's a rotten game to
play tricks with your digestion like that.
ALEC.
[_Gaily._] Stern man, the doctor, isn't he? It won't hurt me once in a
way. And I shall enjoy it all the more now.
DOCTOR.
[_Calling._] Selim!
ALEC.
No, don't trouble. The poor chap's just turned in, dropping with sleep.
I told him he might till I called him. I don't want much, and I can
easily get it myself. [_He goes to a case and takes out a tin of meat
and some ship's biscuits._] It's rather a nuisance that we've not been
able to get any game lately.
[_He sets the food down before him, sits down,
and begins to eat._
DICK.
[_Ironically._] Appetising, isn't it?
ALEC.
Splendid!
DICK.
You have all the instincts of the primeval savage, Alec. It enrages and
disgusts me.
ALEC.
[_With a laugh._] Why?
DICK.
You take food for the gross and bestial purpose of appeasing your
hunger. You have no appreciation for the delicacies of eating as a fine
art.
ALEC.
The meat's getting rather mouldy, isn't it?
DICK.
Damnable! It's been a source of great anxiety to me in England.
ALEC.
What is he talking about now?
DICK.
I was going on with the thread of my observations, which you interrupted
with the entirely obvious remark that the tinned meat was getting
mouldy.
ALEC.
I apologise profusely. Pray go on!
DICK.
I was about to observe that even in England you will eat the most
carefully ordered meal with an indifference which is an outrage to
decency. Indeed, you pay less attention to it than here, because at all
events you do notice that the meat is mouldy. But if any one gives you a
good dinner, you notice nothing. I've given him priceless port, Doctor,
and he drank it as though it were cooking sherry.
DOCTOR.
I confess it is lamentable. But why is it a source of anxiety to you?
DICK.
What on earth is to happen to him in his old age?
ALEC.
Explain yourself, my friend. Clearly but with as much brevity as
possible.