TRAPPED!
_In a Gallery outside the Verney Chamber._ TIME--_About_ 10.15
P.M.
_Undershell_ (_to himself, as he emerges from a back staircase_). I
suppose this _is_ the corridor? The boy said the name of the room was
painted up over the door.... Ah, there it is; and, yes, Mr. Spurrell's
name on a card.... The door is ajar; he is probably waiting for me
inside. I shall meet him quite temperately, treat it simply as a----
(_He enters; a waste-paper basket, containing an ingenious arrangement
of liquid and solid substances, descends on his head._) What the devil
do you mean, sir, by this outrageous----? All dark! Nobody here! Is
there a general conspiracy to insult me? Have I been lured up here for
a brutal---- (SPURRELL _bursts in_.) Ah, _there_ you are, sir! (_With
cold dignity, through the lattice-work of the basket._) Will you
kindly explain what this means?
_Spurrell._ Wait till I strike a light. (_After lighting a pair of
candles._) Well, sir, if _you_ don't know why you're ramping about
like that under a waste-paper basket, I can hardly be expected to----
_Undershell._ I was determined not to remove it until somebody came
in; it fell on my head the moment I entered; it contained something in
a soap-dish, which has wetted my face. You may laugh, sir, but if this
is a sample of your aristocratic----
_Spurrell._ If you could only see yourself! But _I_'d nothing to do
with it, 'pon my word I hadn't; only just this minute got away from
the hall.... _I_ know! It's that sulky young beggar, Bearpark. I
remember he slipped off on some excuse or other just now. He must have
come in here and fixed that affair up for me--confound him!
_Undershell._ I think _I_'m the person most entitled to---- But no
matter; it is merely one insult more among so many. I came here, sir,
for a purpose, as you are aware.
_Spurrell_ (_ruefully_). Your dress clothes? All right, you shall have
them directly. I wouldn't have put 'em on if I'd known they'd be
wanted so soon.
_Undershell._ I should have thought your own would have been more
comfortable.
_Spurrell._ More comfortable! I believe you. Why, I assure you I feel
like a Bath bun in a baby's sock! But how was I to know? You shouldn't
leave your things about like that!
_Undershell._ It is usual, sir, for people to come to a place like
this provided with evening clothes of their own.
_Spurrell._ I know that as well as you do. Don't you suppose I'm
unacquainted with the usages of society! Why, I've stayed in
boarding-houses at the seaside many a time where it was _de rigger_ to
dress--even for high tea! But coming down, as I did, on business, it
never entered my head that I should want my dress suit. So, when I
found them all as chummy and friendly as possible, and expecting me to
dine as a matter of course,--why, I can tell you I was too jolly glad
to get hold of anything in the shape of a swallowtail and white choker
to be over particular!
_Undershell._ You seem to have been more fortunate in your reception
than I. But then _I_ had not the advantage of being here in a business
capacity.
_Spurrell._ Well, it wasn't that altogether. You see, I'm a kind of a
celebrity in my way.
_Undershell._ I should hardly have thought _that_ would be a
recommendation here.
_Spurrell._ I was surprised myself to find what a lot they thought of
it; but, bless you, they're all as civil as shopwalkers; and, as for
the ladies, why, the old Countess and Lady Maisie and Lady Rhoda
couldn't be more complimentary if I'd won the Victoria Cross, instead
of getting a first prize for breeding and exhibiting a bull-bitch at
Cruft's Dog show!
_Undershell_ (_bitterly, to himself_). And this is our aristocracy!
They make a bosom friend of a breeder of dogs; and find a poet only
fit to associate with their servants! What a theme for a satirist!
(_Aloud._) I see nothing to wonder at. You possess precisely the
social qualifications most likely to appeal to the leisured class.
_Spurrell._ Oh, there's a lot of humbug in it, mind you! Most of 'em
know about as much of the points of a bull as the points of a compass,
only they let on to know a lot because they think it's smart. And some
of 'em are after a pup from old Drummy's next litter. _I_ see through
all that, you know!
_Undershell._ You are a cynic, I observe, sir. But possibly the nature
of the business which brings you here renders them----
_Spurrell._ That's the rummest thing about it. I haven't heard a word
about that yet. I'm in the veterinary profession, you know. Well, they
sent for me to see some blooming horse, and never even ask me to go
near it! Seems odd, don't it?
_Undershell_ (_to himself_). _I_ had to go near the blooming horse!
Now I begin to understand; the very servants did not expect to find a
professional vet in any company but their own! (_Aloud._) I--I trust
that the horse will not suffer through any delay.
_Spurrell._ So do I; but how do I know that some ignorant duffer
mayn't be treating him for the wrong thing? It may be all up with the
animal before I get a chance of seeing what I can do?
_Undershell_ (_to himself_). If he knew how near I went to getting the
poor beast shot! But I needn't mention that now.
_Spurrell._ I don't say it isn't gratifying to be treated like a
swell, but I've got my professional reputation to consider, you know;
and if they're going to take up all my time talking about
Andromeda----
_Undershell_ (_with a start_). Andromeda! They have been talking about
Andromeda? To you! Then it's _you_ who----
_Spurrell._ Haven't I been telling you? I should just jolly well
think they _have_ been talking about her! So you didn't know my bull's
name was Andromeda before, eh? But _you_ seem to have heard of her,
too!
_Undershell_ (_slowly_). I--I _have_ heard of Andromeda--yes.
[_He drops into a chair, dazed._
_Spurrell_ (_complacently_). It's curious how that bitch's fame seems
to have spread. Why, even the old Bishop---- But, I say, you're
looking rather queer; anything the matter with you, old fellow?
_Undershell_ (_faintly_). Nothing--nothing. I--I feel a little giddy,
that's all. I shall be better presently.
[_He conceals his face._
_Spurrell_ (_in concern_). It was having that basket down on your head
like that. Too bad! Here, I'll get you some water. (_He bustles
about._) I don't know if you're aware of it, old chap, but you're in a
regular _dooce_ of a mess!
_Undershell_ (_motioning him away irritably_). Do you suppose I don't
know _that_? For Heaven's sake, don't speak to me! let me alone!... I
want to think--I want to think. (_To himself._) I see it all now! I've
made a hideous mistake! I thought these Culverins were deliberately----
And all the time---- Oh, what an unspeakable idiot I've been!... And I
can't even explain!... The only thing to do is to escape before this
fellow suspects the truth. It's lucky I ordered that carriage!
(_Aloud, rising._) I'm all right now; and--and I can't stay here any
longer. I am leaving directly--directly!
_Spurrell._ You must give me time to get out of this toggery, old
chap; you'll have to pick me out of it like a lobster!
_Undershell_ (_wildly_). The clothes? Never mind them now. I can't
wait. Keep them!
_Spurrell._ Do you really mean it, old fellow? If you _could_ spare
'em a bit longer, I'd be no end obliged. Because, you see, I promised
Lady Rhoda to come and finish a talk we were having, and they've taken
away my own things to brush, so I haven't a rag to go down in except
these; and they'd all think it so beastly rude if I went to bed now!
_Undershell_ (_impatiently_). I tell you you may keep them, if you'll
only go away!
_Spurrell._ But where am I to send the things to when I've done with
'em?
_Undershell._ What do I---- Stay, here's my card. Send them to that
address. Now go and finish your evening!
_Spurrell_ (_gratefully_). You _are_ a rattling good chap, and no
mistake! Though I'm hanged if I can quite make out what you're doing
here, you know!
_Undershell._ It's not at all necessary that you _should_ make it out.
I am leaving immediately, and--and I don't wish Sir Rupert or Lady
Culverin to hear of this--you understand?
_Spurrell._ Well, it's no business of mine; you've behaved devilish
well to me, and I'm not surprised that you'd rather not be seen in the
state you're in. I shouldn't like it myself!
_Undershell._ State? _What_ state?
_Spurrell._ Ah, I _wondered_ whether you knew. You'll see what I mean
when you've had a look at yourself in the glass. I dare say it'll come
off right enough. I can't stop. Ta, ta, old fellow, and thanks
awfully!
[_He goes out._
_Undershell_ (_alone_). What does he mean? But I've no time to waste.
Where have they put my portmanteau? I can't give up _everything_. (_He
hunts round the room, and eventually discovers a door leading into a
small dressing-room._) Ah, it's in there. I'll get it out, and put my
things in. (_As he rushes back, he suddenly comes face to face with
his own reflection in a cheval glass._) Wh--who's that? Can this--this
piebald horror possibly be--_me_? How----? Ah, it was _ink_ in that
infernal basket--not water! And my hair's full of flour! I _can't_ go
into a hotel like this, they'd think I was an escaped lunatic! (_He
flies to a wash-hand stand, and scrubs and sluices desperately, after
which he inspects the result in the mirror._) It's not _nearly_ off
yet! Will _anything_ get rid of this streakiness? (_He soaps and
scrubs once more._) And the flour's caked in my hair now! I must brush
it all out before I am fit to be seen. (_He gradually, after infinite
toil, succeeds in making himself slightly more presentable._) Is the
carriage waiting for me all this time? (_He pitches things into his
portmanteau in a frantic flurry._) What's that? Some one's coming!
[_He listens._
[Illustration: HE SUDDENLY COMES FACE TO FACE WITH HIS OWN
REFLECTION.]
_Tredwell_ (_outside_). It's my conviction you've been telling me a
pack o' lies, you young rascal. For what hearthly business that feller
Undershell could 'ave in the Verney---- However, _I_'ll soon see how
it is. (_He knocks._) Is any one in 'ere?
_Undershell_ (_to himself, distractedly_). He mustn't find me here!
Yet, where---- Ah, it's the only place!
[_He blows out the candles, and darts into the dressing-room
as_ TREDWELL _enters_.
_Tredwell._ The boy's right. He _is_ in here; them candles is
smouldering still. (_He relights one, and looks under the bed._) You'd
better come out o' that, Undershell, and give an account of
yourself--do you 'ear me?... He ain't under there! (_He tries the
dressing-room door_; UNDERSHELL _holds his breath, and clings
desperately to the handle_.) Very well, sir, I know you're _there_,
and I've no time to trouble with you at present, so you may as well
stay where you are till you're wanted. I've 'eard o' your goings-on
from Mr. Adams, and I shall 'ave to fetch Sir Rupert up to 'ave a talk
with you by and bye.
[_He turns the key upon him, and goes._
_Undershell_ (_to himself, overwhelmed, as the butler's step is heard
retreating._) And I came down here to assert the dignity of
Literature!