Works of W. W. Jacobs

by Jacobs, W. W.

  HENSHAW. (with emotion) I’m not playing the giddy goat, and I’ll thank you not to.

  TED. (offended) All right, any name you like; I don’t mind.

  HENSHAW. (considering) Brown? Jones? Smith? Jenkins?

  TED. Bell? Alfred Bell? I did know a man ‘o that name once. He tried to borrow a bob off of me. —

  HENSHAW. All right, that’ll do. And you’d better make up something about ‘im — where he lives, and all that sort of thing — so that you can stand being questioned without looking more like a silly fool than you can help.

  TED. I’ll do what I can for you, but I don’t s’pose your missis’ll come to me at all. She saw you plain enough.

  HENSHAW. It’s all your fault. You’d no business to ask me to go with you, and I was a silly good natured fool to do it.

  TED. YOU stick to your tale and it’ll be all right. Tell her that you spoke to me about it, and that his name is Alfred Bell — B. E. double L. — and that he lives in — in Scotland. (eagerly) Here! I say! I know what you can do.

  HENSHAW. Well?

  TED. YOU — you be Alfred Bell. That’s the game.

  HENSHAW. Look ‘ere! I don’t want none o’ your larks. It’s a serious business for me, I can tell you. You go and take your jokes to them as likes ’em and ain’t been kept awake all night and lost their supper.

  TED. I ain’t larking. You be Alfred Bell. Don’t you see. Pretend to be Alfred Bell and come with me to see your missis. I’ll lend you a suit o’ clothes and a scarf, and there you are.

  HENSHAW. What?

  (They cross L.)

  TED. It’s as easy as easy. Come into my lodgings and I’ll rig you up. When we see your missis come ‘ome we’ll come and knock at the door and I’ll tell her that you’re my friend Alfred Bell come to see her husband because I’ve been telling you there’s such a wonderful likeness between you. Of course f say how sorry I am you ain’t in and perhaps we-walks in to wait for you.

  HENSHAW. Wait for me? Wait for me!

  TED. (winking and digging HENSHAW in the ribs) Yes. To show Mr. Bell the surprising likeness. It is surprising, ain’t it? Fancy me and you sitting ‘ere and talking to her and waiting for you to come home and wondering what’s making you so late.

  HENSHAW. But I shall be here.

  TED. (impatiently) Yes, but you’d be pretending to be Alfred Bell, don’t you see? And we’d sit here and wait for you to come ‘ome — George Henshaw you know — until we got tired o’ waiting and then we’d go. Then you pop in to my place and get into your own clothes agin, and come back as yourself and your missis tells you all about Alfred Bell and very likely begs your pardon for saying it was you on the bus.

  HENSHAW. And what about my voice?

  TED. That’s right, go on, it wouldn’t be you if you didn’t try to make difficulties.

  HENSHAW. But what about it?

  TED. YOU can alter it, can’t you? Improve it; that would be the easiest. It’ll come easy enough. Come into my place and change your togs.

  HENSHAW. It’s not good enough; it’s too risky. She’d see through it. I can’t alter my voice I tell you.

  TED. Yes you can. You stay ‘ere and practice, while I run in and fetch the clothes. You’ll look proper (goes to door L.) — I won’t be ‘alf a minute, Mr. Bell Ha! ha! Goodnight Mr. Alfred Bell. (he goes off L.)

  (MRS. HENSHAW pushes door R. open a little way.

  She is about to enter when HENSHAW begins to speak. She stands in amazement and then partly closes door and stands listening.)

  HENSHAW. (in a high falsetto) How are you, Mrs. Henshaw? (in a deep bass) How are you, Mrs. Henshaw? (in a mixture of the two) How are you, Mrs. Henshaw?

  (TED enters L. hurriedly, carrying the clothes, which he puts on table.)

  TED. What’s wrong? Hurt yourself?

  HENSHAW. Practising, you fool.

  TED. I thought you was calling for ‘elp. (c behind table.)

  HENSHAW. HO, did you? Well I told you I couldn’t do it, and I won’t.

  TED. You’ll be all right. (picks up a gaudy scarf) Look what I’ve brought you. I wouldn’t trust anybody else with it. I ain’t wore it myself yet. I was keeping it for Sunday.

  HENSHAW. (looking at it) I wish you ‘ad.

  TED. (annoyed) What’s the matter with it?

  HENSHAW. (gloomily) Oh, it’s all right, but it won’t ‘ide my voice.

  TED. Look here. I’ll tell you what you must do. You’ll have to ‘ave a bad cold and talk in ‘usky whispers. You caught a cold travelling in the boat from Scotland, why, and of course you made it worse going for a ride on the outside of a bus with me and a couple o’ ladies, (hits him in the ribs) See? Try ‘usky whispers now.

  HENSHAW. I feel such a silly fool.

  TED. That don’t matter. Now then, say “ ‘ow are you, Mrs. Henshaw, pleased to meet you,” as if you’d got a cold in your ‘ead.

  HENSHAW. (huskily) How are you, Mrs. Henshaw, pleased to meet you.

  TED. Splendid. (shakes hands with HENSHAW) She’ll never recognise that. Why I should never ‘ave known you. Never. It’s wonderful. Why didn’t you tell me you could act like that?

  HENSHAW. I didn’t know it myself.

  TED. NOW for the clothes. (taking up trousers which are of a loud check pattern) Pretty pattern, ain’t it? Just the thing for a Scotchman. (front of table.)

  HENSHAW. (gloomily) Or a nigger minstrel. (puts trousers on over his own.)

  TED. (annoyed)’Ere, I say, that’ll do.

  HENSHAW. NO offence, mate.

  TED. (helping him to put on coat) All right. (admiringly) What a fit!

  HENSHAW. (moving his arms) Bit big, per’aps?

  TED. Not it. (taking up scarf and helping HENSHAW to put it on) Latest thing in scarfs, this is, they’d only just got ’em in.

  HENSHAW. (moving his neck very carefully) I wish they hadn’t. I can’t breathe.

  TED. All the better, it’ll make you ‘usky. Now don’t you forget to act the part. Be bright and cheerful; be a sort of ladies’ man to her, same as she saw you with the one on the bus. Be as unlike yourself as you can.

  HENSHAW. (wriggling in the clothes) Well, I don’t feel like myself.

  TED. And don’t forget yourself and call her by’er pet name.

  HENSHAW. (indignantly) Pet name; Pet name! You’ll alter your ideas of married life when you’re caught, my lad, I can tell you! ‘Ow do I look?

  TED. A treat. A fair treat. (takes a snuff-box from his pocket) And ‘ere’s the artful little dodge that’ll make your wife certain you’re not you.

  HENSHAW. What is it? Pills?

  TED. NO. It’s a snuff-box what belonged to my old gran’father. You never take snuff do you?

  HENSHAW. Filthy ‘abit.

  TED. Well, you’ve got to. You’re Scotch, and you must fetch it out, casual like, and say to me, “Will ye tak’ a pinch o’ sneezin’ the noo?”

  HENSHAW. What’s that mean?

  TED. It’s Scotch for ‘ave a taste.

  HENSHAW. I can’t speak foreign languages, and what’s more, there ain’t any snuff in it.

  TED. That’s awkward. (picks up pepper-pot from cruet on table) This’ll do as well. (fills the box with pepper) You’ll sneeze fust rate with that.

  HENSHAW. (gloomily) Wonderful clever at thinking of things, you are.

  TED. That’s what my old mother always said. (Looks at HENSHAW) There, I nearly forgot one thing.

  HENSHAW. What?

  TED. Your ‘air. I must alter that.

  HENSHAW. What?

  TED. Just dye it a bit with something or other. (looks round the room) Soot’d do it a treat. (goes to fireplace)

  HENSHAW. I’m not going to have my ‘air messed about, besides suppose the old cat ain’t in and my missus comes back.

  TED. (persuasively) Come, George, you ain’t going to spoil the ship for a ha’porth of ‘air.

  HENSHAW. Ha’porth be blowed. Why, I’d have to wash my ‘ead after it.

  TE
D. We must brush it up a bit then, that’s all. Got a brush? Oh, here’s one. This’ll do. (takes boot brush and blacking bottle from cupboard)

  HENSHAW. It’s all dirty.

  TED. I never see such a fault-finding chap as you in all my life. Sit down. (brushes Henshaw’s hair up from his forehead) You look quite ‘andsome with it like that, she’ll never know you.

  (Pours blacking from a bottle on to the brush, unseen by HENSHAW and applies the brush to HENSHAW’S head.)

  HENSHAW. If I’d known what I’d got to go through, I’d never ‘ave taken this game on.

  TED. Think what you’d ‘ave to go through if you hadn’t, (looks admiringly at his handiwork)

  There! It’s wonderful what a little blacking —— —

  HENSHAW. Eh?

  TED. Blacking brush’ll do.

  HENSHAW. (springing up from chair and looking at front door) I thought I heard her coming. Listen! Yes, here she comes.

  TED. (picking up clothes) Quick, let’s go and finish in my place, and then come round the front way. (watches HENSHAW go out) I’m proud of you, George, I really am. You’re a reg’lar picture. Your own little wifie won’t know you. (they go off L. carrying the clothes)

  (Enter MRS. HENSHAW R. She shakes her fist.)

  MRS. HENSHAW. Oh! Won’t know you, won’t she? That’s their little game is it? (stands C gazing at door L., then walks up and down reflecting) Well, we’ll see (takes off mantle and bonnet and hangs them on nail behind door C and seats herself by table)

  (There is a timid knock on the door C. MRS. HENSHAW smiles knowingly and nods to herself. She goes to the door and opens it. TED stands awkwardly on the threshold.)

  TED. (endeavouring to appear at ease) Is George in?

  MRS. HENSHAW. NO.

  TED. Working overtime?

  MRS. HENSHAW. (preparing to close the door) He ain’t in.

  TED. Oil, I’m sorry for that. I wanted to see ‘im partikler. I brought a friend o’ mine, name o’ Alfred Bell or here on purpose to see ‘im. (beckons to HENSHAW who is keeping in the background)’Ere, Alf.

  (HENSHAW comes forward timidly.)

  MRS. HENSHAW. George!

  TED. (gleefully) Ah, I thought you’d make that mistake. That ain’t George, that’s my friend Mr. Alf ted Bell. Ain’t it a extraordinary likeness? Ain’t it wonderful? That’s why I brought ‘im up; I wanted George to see ‘im.

  (MRS. HENSHAW stands grimly eyeing GEORGE, who regards her nervously.)

  His living image, ain’t he? (to HENSHAW) Alf, this is my pal, George’s missis.

  HENSHAW. (huskily) Good evening to you.

  TED. He got a bad cold coming from Scotland, and foolish-like he went outside a bus with me last night and made it worse. He would go though I told ‘im how it would be. That’s the worst of Scotchmen; they’re so obstinate.

  MRS. HENSHAW. O — oh! Indeed! Really!

  TED. He wouldn’t believe what T told ‘im about the likeness between ‘im and George. That’s the worst o’ Scotchmen, they won’t believe anything they don’t see. He’s quite curious to see George. He was going back to Scotland to-night if it ‘adn’t been for that. He’s waiting till to-morrow just to see George, ain’t you, Alf?

  HENSAW. (nervously) After all p’raps I’d better go to-night. I shall be up this way agin next year p’raps and I could see ‘im then, (goes to door C. TED pulls him back)

  TED. Nonsense. Besides George would like to see you. (to MRS. HENSHAW) I s’pose he won’t be long.

  MRS. HENSHAW. (glaring at HENSHAW) I don’t suppose so.

  TED. (ignoring HENSHAW’S attempts to get away) I daresay if we was to wait a little while —

  MRS. HENSHAW. (encouragingly) Come in.

  HENDERSON. (nervously) I think p’raps it would be better for me to go back to-night.

  MRS. HENSHAW. (pleasantly) Come in, and sit down.

  TED. Yes, come in, Alf. (taking HENSHAW’S arm and leading him in)’E’s a bit shy, Mrs. Henshaw, owin’ to having lived all his life in Ire — Scotland. That’s the worst o’ Scotchmen, they’re so shy.

  MRS. HENSHAW. He do seem a bit shamefaced like. —

  TED. But he’s quite the ladies’ man, though, quite. Never happy except when he’s in their society.

  MRS. HENSHAW. (glaring at HENSHAW, who stands awkwardly turning his hat in his hands) In-deed.

  TED. Ha! You should ha’ seen ‘im last night on the bus. We had a couple o’ lady friends he met in the train with us, and even the conductor was surprised at his goings on.

  (HENSHAW frowns at TED to stop.)

  MRS. HENSHAW. Carrying on, was he?

  TED. Carrying on like one o’clock. Called one of ’em his little wife, and asked her where ‘er wedding ring was.

  HENSHAW. (very hoarsely) I didn’t. I didn’t.

  TED. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Only, as I said to you at the time, “Alfred,” I says, “it’s all right for you as a single man, but you might be the twin brother of a pal o’ mine — George Henshaw by name — and if some people was to see you they might think it was ‘im.” Didn’t I say that?

  HENSHAW. (helplessly) You did.

  TED. And he wouldn’t believe me. That’s why I brought him round to see George.

  HENSHAW. (edging towards the door C.) But he’s out. ‘Adn’t we better —— —

  MRS. HENSHAW. NO. Sit down, Mr. Bell, and make yourself comfortable. Pretend you’re at home and have a pipe if you like, (they sit. MRS. HENSHAW R., TED STOKES C. and HENSHAW L. of table)

  (During this scene MRS. HENSHAW plainly enjoys the situation. HENSHAW is sitting nervously with his legs tucked under the chair. At every opportunity TED in pantomime urges him to play the man, twists his moustache and crosses his legs as hints.)

  HENSHAW. Er — thanks I TED. He don’t smoke. He takes snuff, he’s Scotch. He’s always at it. (making signs to HENSHAW)

  HENSHAW. (slowly taking out snuff-box and offering it to TED) Per’aps you —

  TED. (hurriedly) Not me.

  (HENSHAW takes a small pinch of pepper and cautiously sniffs at it. He gets very red in the face and struggles to suppress a sneeze.)

  Fair revels in it, don’t ‘e?

  MRS. HENSHAW. (as HENSHAW sneezes violently) I thought it only made you sneeze when you weren’t used to it.

  TED. Alf always does it. Says it clears ‘is head. MRS. HENSHAW. (affably as HENSHAW struggles with another sneeze) He looks more like George than ever when he’s pulling them ugly faces.

  TED. Didn’t I tell you it was a wonderful likeness?

  MRS. HENSHAW. I should like to see the two of ’em together. I should have taken him for my husband anywhere.

  TED. — (smiling and shaking his, head) You wouldn’t if you’d seen ‘im the other night.

  MRS. HENSHAW. (with sudden loudness) Carrying on again was he?

  HENSHAW. (glaring at TED, and speaking in a stentorian voice) No.

  MRS. HENSHAW. Cold’s better, ain’t it, Mr. Bell?

  HENSHAW. (very huskily) No — no, the snuff — er — cleared my throat.

  MRS. HENSIIAW. Have some more.

  HENSHAW. (quickly) Not now.

  MRS. HENSHAW. (to TED) And what was it you were saving ‘e was doing the other night?

  TED. (looking doubtfully at HENSHAW) I won’t tell tales out of school.

  MRS. HENSHAW. (coquettishly) Not if I ask you to?

  TED. Ask ‘im. (to. HENSHAW) What was it you was doing the night before last, eh, Alf?

  HENSHAW. (to MRS. HENSIIAW, hastily) I went for a quiet walk round Southwark Park, all by myself. Then I met Mr. Stokes, and we had one lemonade together at a public house. That’s all.

  (MRS. HENSHAW looks at TED, Who winks and shakes his head.)

  It’s as true as my name is — Alfred Bell.

  TED. Have it your own way.

  MRS. HENSHAW. I wish my husband spent his evenings in the same quiet way, Mr. Bell.

  TED. Don’t he? He always seems quiet enough to me. To
o quiet I should say. Why, I never knew a quieter man. I chaff ‘im about it sometimes. Always in a hurry to get ‘omo.

  (HENSHAW signals his approval of this speech.)

  MRS. HENSHAW. He may say so to you to get away from you, but he don’t come home all the same. He does say you’re hard to shake off sometimes.

  (TED glares at HENSHAW, who denies his wife’s statement in dumb show.)

  TED. Pity ‘e didn’t tell me. I ain’t one to force my company where it ain’t wanted.

  MRS. HENSHAW. NO, that’s what I say. I’ve said to him sometimes, “why don’t you tell Ted Stokes plain that you don’t like his company?” But he won’t. That ain’t his way. He’d sooner talk of you behind your back.

  TED. What does he say? (rises and crosses L.)

  MRS. HENSHAW. Promise me you won’t tell him if I tell you?

  TED. (looking coldly at HENSHAW) I won’t tell him.

  MRS. HENSHAW. I don’t know that I ought to tell you, but I get so sick and tired of him coming home and grumbling about you, so p’raps it’ll do good to tell you.

  TED. GO on.

  MRS. HENSHAW. He says you act as if you thought you knew everything and your everlasting jaw worries him to death. He says he can’t get a word in edgeways sometimes.

  TED. GO on.

  MRS. HENSHAW. And he says it’s so much trouble to get you to pay for your share of the drinks that he’d sooner pay himself and have done with it.

  TED. (springing out of chair and glaring at HENSHAW who mouths denial) Anything else?

  MRS. HENSHAW. Heaps and heaps of things, but I don’t want to make bad blood between you.

  TED. Don’t mind me. P’raps I’ll tell you some things about him some day.

  MRS. HENSHAW. Tell me now. I don’t mind Mr. Bell hearing; not a bit.

  HENSHAW. I don’t want to hear family secrets. It wouldn’t be right.

  TED. Well, I don’t want to say things behind a man’s back. Let’s wait till George comes in, and I’ll say ’em before his face.

  MRS. HENSHAW. Tell us now, it’ll amuse Mr. Bell.

  HENSHAW. (eagerly) No, it wouldn’t, T don’t like secrets.

  TED. (firmly) No, wait till George comes ‘ome.

  MRS. HENSHAW. (to HENSHAW) There now, Mr. Bell, you’ve been chatting so to me, that I quite forgot to ask you to have a glass of ale. I’ll run and draw a jug. I won’t be a minute.