GEORGE BURTON stares at him in dismay.
MRS. D. What were you there for, Admiral Peters f JOE. (impressively) I was there, ma’am, to save the life of Burton. (BURTON drops on table) I never deserted my men — never. Whatever scrapes they got into, I did my best to get them out. News was brought to me that Burton was suffocating in the chimney of the Sultan’s favourite wife, and —
BURTON springs to his feet.
MRS. D. (rises excitedly) Sultan’s favourite wife. (crosses to table) Good gracious! I never heard of such a thing! I am surprised!
GEORGE. (hoarse with rage) So am I — damme — I — I — (look from JOE and salute from BURTON)
MRS. D. (glancing indignantly at BURTON) How did you escape, Admiral Peters?
JOE. TO tell you that, ma’am would be to bring the French Consul into it. I oughtn’t to have mentioned the subject at all. (pause) Burton had the good sense not to.
GEORGE. But I say, about this yer —
JOE. Silence. We’d better talk of something else, (turns to MRS. DUTTON taking her arm. MRS. DUTTON looks at BURTON triumphantly) Do you know, Mrs. Dutton, you remind me very much —
GEORGE. About this yer Sultan —
JOE. That’ll do.
GEORGE. Yes — but —
JOE. Silence.
GEORGE. Yes — but —
JOE. ‘tention-right turn — quick-MARCH! Halt, front, right-about turn — quick-march — right turn — halt — front — MRS. D. Oh, this is fine.
JOE. DO you like it — we’ll have some more. Extension movements — 1st exercise — commence, commence — steady.
BURTON left lending over touching his toes with his hands.
JOE. DO you know, Mrs. Dutton, you remind me very much of the Duchess of Marford.
MBS. D. Oh, Admiral. (looks down simpering. BURTON coughs)
JOE. Yes, she was a blonde, but (looking at widow) give me a brunette.
GEORGE coughs.
JOE. Oh, it’s you. ‘Tention, stand at ease. Stand easy. Dismiss.
JOE looks at him sternly, as he recovers breath, pulls down his waistcoat, etc., then takes WIDOW’S hand.
JOE. (sitting by MRS. DUTTON) What a dear little ‘and. GEORGE very indignant — JOE examining her hand.
Why, how peculiar! You see that line there? That shows you will marry again.
MRS. D. Lor! Does it?
GEORGE. (putting hand forward. Fist clenched) Why I’ve got a line like that, (opens fist) sir.
JOE. (knocks his hand up) No, Burton. (shakes his head) No, I’m sorry to say that is not what that line means.
GEORGE. (gruffly) Well, what does it mean then? (look from JOE) sir.
JOE (gravely) I regret, Burton, that I cannot tell you in the presence of Mrs. Dutton.
GEORGE aghast — JOE turns to MRS. D.
JOE. (looks at hand again) Why, what’s this? You are going to marry a naval man.
GEORGE looks pleased.
GEORGE. Eh?
MRS. D. A naval man, lor! —
JOE. Yes, a naval officer of very high rank.
GEORGE, (excited) Eh! (comes C.)
JOE ignores him.
JOE. (continuing) Ah! What’s this! Oh, I say! I say ——
MRS. D. What is it, Admiral!
JOE. Ah, Mrs. Dutton, I’m afraid you’re a saucy little baggage MRS. D. giggles. Joe moves closer to her — GEORGE coughs angrily.
JOE. (annoyed) Burton!
GEORGE. (snappishly) Sir!
JOE. ‘Er, just run inside and fetch my pipe for me. I left it somewhere about. If it isn’t in the house it’s at the bottom of the garden. —
BURTON hesitates and shakes his fist at JOE, unseen by the WIDOW.
JOE. Look sharp.
GEORGE. I’m very sorry, sir, but I — I broke it.
JOE. Broke it?
GEORGE, (glib satisfaction) Yes, sir, I knocked it on the floor and trod on it by accident. Smashed it to powder —— sir.
JOE. YOU clumsy fathead! That pipe was a present from the Italian Ambassador, (to MRS. DUTTON) Burton was always a clumsy man. He had the name for it when he was on the Destruction with me—” Bungling Burton” — they called him.
MRS. DUTTON looks contemptuously at BURTON who is boiling with rage.
Do you remember, Burton, that time when you were so drunk you wanted to go and punch the Captain’s head. (BURTON collapses on table) If it hadn’t been for me, ma’am, poor Burton would have had a taste of the cat. You remember that, Burton?
GEORGE. NO, I’m.... No, I don’t sir.
Joe. (to WIDOW) Shocking memory, Burton, (leans over WIDOW, sees BURTON) Burton, just go and see what’s o’clock.
GEORGE. It’s just gone eleven, sir.
MRS. DUTTON (rising) Eleven!
JOE. What not going, ma’am?
MRS. D. (reluctantly) Oh, I’m afraid I must go, Admiral, I’ve got to meet a friend at a quarter past eleven. But — I — I — perhaps I shall see you again, as you think of making a long stay.
JOE. (theatrically to BURTON) Left turn — eyes front. Then fare thee well (takes WIDOW’S hand and looks affectionately at her — backs into GEORGE) We shall meet again, Mrs. Dutton. In the meantime your sweet face will haunt me, sleeping or waking. Goodbye — goodbye sweetheart, goodbye!
MRS. DUTTON gives him a coquettish look, as she goes off — C to R., and JOE kisses his hand to her.
GEORGE confronts JOE, speechless with rage, throws cap on, ground — JOE grinning.
GEORGE. Why the — why the — you — you —
JOE. (picks up chair defending himself) Calm yourself George, calm yourself.
GEORGE. What do you mean by it? How dare you tell lies about me.
JOE. (smirking) I can’t help being good looking, George.
GEORGE. (throws chair off) Your good looks wouldn’t hurt anybody. It’s the Admiral business that fetches her. It’s turned her head.
JOE. Ah, she’ll say ‘snap’ to my ‘snip’ any time. And remember, George, there’ll always be a knife and fork laid for you, when you like to come.
GEORGE. (coming to JOE) I dessay. Only as it happens, I’m going to tell her the truth about you, first thing — if I can’t have her, you shan’t.
JOE. (C.) That’ll spoil your chance too. She’ll never forgive you for fooling her like that. It seems a pity that neither of us should get her.
GEORGE. (angrily) You’re a sarpint — a sarpint that I’ve warmed in my bosom —
JOE. (stopping him) That’ll do, that’ll do. There’s no call to be indelicate, George.
GEORGE. “Indelicate.” I — I —
JOB. NOW, look ‘ere. I’m agreeable to going back by the 12.15 to-day, without seeing her again — if it’s made worth my while.
GEORGE. Made worth your while?
JOE. Certainly — she’s not a bad-looking woman — for her age — and you say it’s a snug little business.
GEORGE. Well, if — if ‘arf a sovereign.
JOE. ‘Arf a fiddlestick! I want five pounds.
GEORGE. Five pounds!
JOE. You’ve just drawn your pension, and besides, you’ve always been a saving man all your life.
GEORGE. Five pounds! Do you think I’ve got a gold mine in my back garden. D’you think I’m made of money — you shark! You villain — you — you swindler —
JOB. (calmly) I don’t go for a penny less. Five pounds and my ticket back — if you call me any more o’ those names, I’ll make it ten.
GEORGE. You — you — son of a ——
JOE. NOW, now, George — be careful.
GEORGE. (sinking on to bench) I can’t afford five pounds. dolefully)
JOE. (emphatically) Then I can’t afford to go.
GEORGE, (slowly) Well, if I do pay it, what am I to explain to Mrs. Dutton?
JOE. Anything you like. Tell her I’m engaged to my cousin and our marriage keeps being put off on account of my eccentric behaviour. That would sound reasonable. Tell any lies you like. I shall never
turn up to contradict them.
GEORGE. Well — I suppose I must. (groans) And I was just going to take it down to the bank! (produces notebook and takes out note) There you are, bah! And there — (handing money) — is your fare.
JOE. (goes up — stops, comes down) Here, what’s this — third class fare?
GEORGE. Well, of course.
JOE. Third class! Who ever heard of an Admiral riding third class?
GEORGE. (endeavouring to repress his rage) But they don’t know you’re an Admiral.
JOE. NO, but I feel like one. Come on, fork out.
Music, till curtain.
GEORGE. (hands money) Damn! I shall have to starve for three months to make up for this.
JOE. Good-bye, George, thank you, George, (holds out hand) I’ve enjoyed my visit very much.
GEORGE, (growls) I hope you’ll bloomin’ well break you bloomin’ neck.
JOE. (goes up C.) I’m letting you off easy. I’d ha’ had the widow myself if it hadn’t ha’ been for one little thing.
GEORGE. (growls) What little thing?
JOE. (at exit) Nothing, George, nothing. Just one of those ‘ere little things we all think such a lot of till we’ve got em, you know.
GEORGE. What is it?
JOE. It ain’t a it, George, it’s a she!
GEORGE. A she — what you don’t mean? ——
JOE. My wife.
GEORGE. Your what?
JOE. My wife.
GEORGE fails in a chair struggling for breath.
Music swells.
CURTAIN
IN THE LIBRARY
IN THE LIBRARY
SCENE. — In the Library.
This is a comfortably-furnished bachelor’s apartment on the third floor. There is a window L.C. and a fireplace, in which a fire is burning, R.C. There is a door, opening on to the landing R. Over L. is a bureau and a safe built into the wall. There is a table L.C.
(When the curtain rises JAMES FLETCHER, a slightly-built, plain man of 40, with a fair moustache, is by fire R.C. He looks at the clock, compares it with his watch. TRAYTON BURLEIGH enters R. He is a tall, powerfully-built man of 35. He is clean-shaven, — smartly dressed.)
BURLEIGH (cheerily). Hullo! Not gone to roost yet? Why, you’re getting quite dissipated. It’s past midnight. You are losing all your beauty-sleep.
FLETCHER (coldly). I’ve been waiting for you. BURLEIGH (seating himself near fire). Good man. Nice of you. (Pushes electric bell button.)
FLETCHER. It is no use ringing. The servants are out.
BURLEIGH. Oh, bother! I wanted them to light a fire in my room.
FLETCHER (with meaning). It doesn’t matter; you won’t need it.
BURLEIGH (surprised). Eh? Surely I’m the best judge of that? What do you mean: I shan’t need it? How do you know what I need?
FLETCHER. I waited up because I wished to talk to you. — ...
BURLEIGH (yawning, but looking at him stealthily). Business, I suppose? What a terrible chap you are for work. You think, dream, and do nothing else.
FLETCHER (regarding him steadily). Yes.
BURLEIGH. What the deuce is the matter with you to-night? You’re about as cheerful as a wet Sunday afternoon.
FLETCHER. I told you I wanted to speak to you on a matter of business — our business.
BURLEIGH (looks at him sharply and then speaks with assumed indifference). Don’t we have enough of that at the office? (With sudden petulance.) Hang it, this is neither the time nor the place — be reasonable I FLETCHER (sternly). I’m going to settle this matter now.
BURLEIGH (sulkily). Well, fire away, I’m confoundedly sleepy. What is it?
FLETCHER. Trayton, Burleigh! — you’re a thief!
BURLEIGH (starting up). How dare you! How dare you! You hound! I’ll —— (Stands trembling with rage.) You — you — !
FLETCHER. While I was abroad you have been using the trust money. —
BURLEIGH. Yes — I — I — only for a time. I intended to tell you about it, only —
FLETCHER. Only you knew that I would not countenance dishonesty. —
BURLEIGH. Dishonesty! Nonsense, it’s business.
FLETCHER. Possibly it may appear so to you, but it’s not the business that has made the name of our firm honoured for five generations.
BURLEIGH. My dear chap, be reasonable, I can explain everything.
FLETCHER. YOU can’t explain away the fact that you’ve stolen this money. Stolen it. (Bangs fist in his hand.)
BURLEIGH (goes to table, takes a cigar from a box, lights it and resumes seat). Supposing I have — er — used some of the money left in our care, for my own purposes, what then? It’s certainly going away from the firm’s old-fashioned business methods, I admit, but after all it’s only —
FLETCHER (interrupting him). Theft.
BURLEIGH (uneasily). Rot. I see a chance of putting the money into a good thing; I do so. Unfortunately the good thing is, like most of us, not so good as it ought to be. You can’t blame me for that. Come, we must make the best of it. You’re too good a sportsman to desert your partner when he’s in a fix.
FLETCHER. I’m too good a sportsman to remain in partnership with a damned rogue.
BURLEIGH (starting up). I’m hanged if I’ll stand that from you, Fletcher, or any man. Understand that.
FLETCHER (quietly smoking his pipe). Listen to me. You’ve stolen this money. If I liked to give you away you’d get ten years.
BURLEIGH (nervously). You won’t do that? For Heaven’s sake, Fletcher —
FLETCHER. Not if you do as I tell you. If you agree to my terms your crime will remain unknown.
BURLEIGH. Hang it all;— “Crime!” I tell you —
FLETCHER. Call it what you like, but upon one thing I insist.
BURLEIGH (glaring at him). You’re beastly dictatorial.
FLETCHER. I speak for the honour of the firm.
BURLEIGH (seating himself in chair by table). Oh, damn the honour of the firm. What do you propose to do?
FLETCHER (very slowly). I’m going to give you two hundred pounds and you’re going abroad at once. The partnership is dissolved.
BURLEIGH (sneeringly). Sounds delightfully simple.
FLETCHER. Yes.
BURLEIGH (smouldering). It hasn’t occurred to you, I suppose, that I might refuse your terms?
FLETCHER. NO. You are in no position to refuse.
BURLEIGH (with fury). I am to go out and leave you in possession? You will stay here sole proprietor of the house, our house; you will stay at the office, sole owner and representative of the firm, our firm? You are a good hand at a deal, James Fletcher.
FLETCHER. I am an honest man, and to raise sufficient money to make your defalcations good will not by any means leave me the gainer, as you very well know.
BURLEIGH (eagerly). There’s no necessity to borrow. We can pay the interest easily, and in course of time make the principal good without a soul being the wiser. It’s been done over and over again.
FLETCHER (rising and pacing up and down the room). Possibly we could, but I will be no man’s confederate in dishonesty; I will raise every penny at all costs, and save the name of the firm — and yours with it — but I will never have you darken the office again, or sit in this house after to-night. (Standing near the window.)
BURLEIGH (starting to his feet). You won’t! You!
FLETCHER. I won’t. You can choose the alternative — disgrace and penal servitude.
(BURLEIGH advances in a threatening attitude.)
Don’t stand over me; you won’t frighten me, I can assure you. Sit down.
BURLEIGH (going to window). Has it struck you, Fletcher, that there’s a certain amount of risk in pressing me too hard? You’re a small man, and it would not require a great effort on my part to throw you through that window. A thirty feet drop on to palings would be an unpleasant death.
FLETCHER (coolly). So would hanging.
BURLEIGH. Don’t drive me too far, that’s all. I d
on’t want to hurt you. (Resuming his seat.) You have arranged so many things in your kindness, have you arranged how I am to live?
FLETCHER. You have two strong hands, and health. I will give you the two hundred pounds I mentioned, and after that you must look out for yourself.
BURLEIGH (contemptuously). Two hundred! Why not give me a box of cigars?
FLETCHER (taking roll of notes from his pocket-case and offering them to BURLEIGH). YOU can take them now.
BURLEIGH (refusing to take them). You’re damned considerate, aren’t you? Money all ready, and everything arranged.
FLETCHER. Don’t be a fool. That’s all you’ll get. (Again offers them and they are again refused by BURLEIGH). Very well (puts them back into pocket), as you please.
(BURLEIGH glares at him, then takes two or three turns across the room. He stops suddenly as though an idea has struck him.)
BURLEIGH (suddenly), Mrs. Marl is out? FLETCHER. She will be away the night, and Jane too.
BURLEIGH (with assumed indifference). Are you sure? I thought I heard some one moving in the basement as I came in. I am almost certain I did.
FLETCHER. YOU were mistaken. They won’t be back to-night. They’ve gone together somewhere.
BURLEIGH. SO much the better. We shan’t be disturbed until to-morrow morning. I’m going to have this out with you to-night. Understand once for all that I’m not going to be browbeaten into leaving you in sole possession of everything. I’m not going to —
FLETCHER (firmly). You’re going to do as you’re told. I’ve given you a chance. If you refuse to take it — well — you know the consequences.
BURLEIGH (sneeringly). I suppose the upright, honest partner will inform the police.
FLETCHER. He will.
BURLEIGH (slowly). Rather than that I’d kill you and myself as well. If I’m to be turned adrift, I’m damned if it shall be to leave you here. For the last time, will you come to some arrangement?
FLETCHER. For the last time, no.
BURLEIGH. By God, Fletcher, you’ll drive me mad with your cold-blooded, sanctimonious air. Be reasonable, or I won’t be answerable for the consequences.
FLETCHER. Don’t you know me well enough to realize that I’m not likely to be bullied into anything by you? Are you going abroad, or do you prefer penal servitude?
Works of W. W. Jacobs Page 294