Complete Works of J. M. Barrie

by Unknown

  Preen. You didn’t say where the place was.

  Host. It was Monte Carlo.

  (He pauses here, as if to give time for something to happen, but nothing does happen except that Miss Isit’s wineglass slips from her hand to the floor.)

  Dolphin, another glass for Miss Isit.

  Lady Jane. Do go on.

  Host. My inquiries were slow, but I became convinced that my brother had been poisoned.

  Mrs. Bland. How dreadful. You poor man.

  Gourlay. I hope, Sam Smith, that you got on the track of the criminals?

  Host. Oh, yes.

  (A chair creaks.)

  Did you speak, Miss Isit?

  Miss Isit. Did I? I think not. What did you say about the criminals?

  Host. Not criminals; there was only one.

  Preen. Man or woman?

  Host. We are not yet certain. What we do know is that my brother was visited in his rooms that night by someone who must have been the murderer. It was someone who spoke English and who was certainly dressed as a man, but it may have been a woman. There is proof that it was someone who had been to the tables that night. I got in touch with every “possible,” though I had to follow some of them to distant parts.

  Lady Wrathie. It is extraordinarily interesting.

  Host. Outwardly many of them seemed to be quite respectable people.

  Sir Joseph. Ah, one can’t go by that, Sam Smith.

  Host. I didn’t. I made the most exhaustive inquiries into their private lives. I did it so cunningly that not one of them suspected why I was so anxious to make his or her acquaintance; and then, when I was ready for them, I invited them to my house for a week, and they are all sitting round my table this evening.

  (As the monstrous significance of this sinks into them, there is a hubbub at the table.)

  You wanted to know why I had asked you here, and I am afraid that in consequence I have wandered a little from the toast; but I thank you, Sir Joseph, I thank you all, for the too kind way in which you have drunk my health.

  (He sits down as modestly as he had risen, but the smile has gone from his face; and the curious — which includes all the diners — may note that he is licking his lips. In the babel that again breaks forth, Dolphin, who has remained stationary and vacuous for the speech, goes the round of the table refilling glasses.)

  Preen (the first to be wholly articulate). In the name of every one of us, Mr. Smith, I tell you that this is an outrage.

  Host. I was afraid you wouldn’t like it.

  Sir Joseph. May I ask, sir, whether all this week you have been surreptitiously ferreting into our private affairs, perhaps even rummaging our trunks?

  Host (brightening). That was it. You remember how I pressed you all to show your prowess on the tennis courts and the golf links while I stayed at home? That was my time for the trunks.

  Lady Jane. Was there ever such a man? Did you open our letters?

  Host. Every one of them. And there were some very queer things in them. There was one about a luncheon at the Ritz. “You will know me,” the man wrote, “by the gardenia I shall carry in my hand.” Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned that. But the lady who got that letter need not be frightened. She is married, and her husband is here with her, but I won’t tell you any more.

  Miss Isit. I think he should be compelled to tell.

  Preen. Wrathie, there are only two ladies here with their husbands.

  Sir Joseph. Yours and mine, Preen.

  Lady Wrathie. Joseph, I don’t need to tell you it wasn’t your wife.

  Mrs. Preen. It certainly wasn’t yours, Willie.

  Preen. Of that I am well assured.

  Sir Joseph. Take care what you say, Preen. That is very like a reflection on my wife.

  Gourlay. Let that pass. The other is the serious thing — so serious that it is a nightmare. Whom do you accuse of doing away with your brother, sir? Out with it.

  Host. You are not all turning against me, are you? I assure you I don’t accuse any of you yet. I know that one of you did it, but I am not sure which one. I shall know soon.

  Vaile. Soon? How soon?

  Host. Soon after the men join the ladies tonight. I ought to tell you that I am to try a little experiment tonight, something I have thought out which I have every confidence will make the guilty person fall into my hands like a ripe plum. (He indicates rather horribly how he will squeeze it.)

  Lady Jane (hitting his hand). Don’t do that.

  Sir Joseph (voicing the general unrest). We insist, Smith, on hearing what this experiment is to be.

  Host. That would spoil it. But I can tell you this. My speech had a little pit in it, and all the time I was talking I was watching whether any of you would fall into that pit.

  Mrs. Preen (rising). I didn’t notice any pit.

  Host. You weren’t meant to, Mrs. Preen.

  Preen. May I ask, without pressing the personal note, did any one fall into your pit?

  Host. I think so.

  Capt. Jennings. Smith, we must have the name of this person.

  Lady Wrathie. Mrs. Preen has fainted.

  (Preen hurries slowly to his wife’s assistance, and there is some commotion.)

  Mrs. Preen. Why — what — who — I am all right now. Willie, go back to your seat. Why are you all staring at me so?

  Miss Isit. Dear Mrs. Preen, we are so glad that you are better. I wonder what upset you?

  Preen (imprudently). I never knew her faint before.

  Miss Isit. I expect it was the heat.

  Preen (nervous). Say it was the heat, Emily.

  Mrs. Preen. No, it wasn’t the heat, Miss Isit. It was Mr. Smith’s talk of a pit.

  Preen. My dear.

  Mrs. Preen. I suddenly remembered how, as soon as that man mentioned that the place of the crime was Monte Carlo, some lady had let her wineglass fall. That was why I fainted. I can’t remember who she was.

  Lady Wrathie. It was Miss Isit.

  Mrs. Preen. Really?

  Miss Isit. There is a thing called the law of libel. If Lady Wrathie and Mrs. Preen will kindly formulate their charges ——

  Gourlay. Oh, come, let us keep our heads.

  Host. That’s what I say.

  Gourlay. What about a motive? Scotland Yard always seeks for that first.

  Host. I see two possible motives. If a woman did it — well, they tended to run after my brother, and you all know of what a woman scorned is capable.

  Preen (reminiscent). Rather.

  Host. Then, again, my brother had a large sum of money with him, which disappeared.

  Sir Joseph. If you could trace that money it might be a help.

  Host. All sorts of things are a help. The way you are all pretending to know nothing about the matter is a help. It might be a help if I could find out which of you has a clammy hand that at this moment wants to creep beneath the table.

  (Not a hand creeps.)

  I’ll tell you something more. Murderers’ hearts beat differently from other hearts. (He raises his finger.) Listen.

  (They listen.)

  Whose was it?

  (A cry from Miss Vaile brings her into undesired prominence.)

  Miss Vaile (explaining). I thought I heard it. It seemed to come from across the table.

  (This does not give universal satisfaction.)

  Please don’t think because this man made me scream that I did it. I never was on a yacht in my life, at Monte Carlo or anywhere else.

  (Nor does even this have the desired effect.)

  Vaile (sharply). Bella!

  Miss Vaile. Have I said — anything odd?

  Gourlay. A yacht? There has been no talk about a yacht.

  Miss Vaile (shrinking). Hasn’t there?

  Host. Perhaps there should have been. It was on his yacht that my brother died.

  Mrs. Castro. You said in his rooms.

  Host. Yes, that is what I said. I wanted to find out which of you knew better.

  Lady Jane. And Miss Va
ile ——

  Miss Vaile. I can explain it all if — if ——

  Miss Isit. Yes, give her a little time.

  Host. Perhaps you would all like to take a few minutes.

  Miss Vaile. I admit that I was at Monte Carlo — with my brother — when an Englishman died there rather mysteriously on a yacht. When Mr. Smith told us of his brother’s death, I concluded that it was probably the same person.

  Vaile. I presume that you accept my sister’s statement?

  Miss Isit. Ab-sol-ute-ly.

  Host. She is not the only one of you who knew that yacht. You all admit having been at Monte Carlo two years ago, I suppose?

  Capt. Jennings. One of us wasn’t. Lady Jane was never there.

  Host (with beady eyes). What do you say to that, Lady Jane?

  (Lady Jane falters.)

  Capt. Jennings. Tell him, Jane.

  Host. Yes, tell me.

  Capt. Jennings. You never were there; say so.

  Lady Jane. Why shouldn’t I have been there?

  Capt. Jennings. No reason. But when I happened to mention Monte Carlo to you the other day I certainly understood —— Jane, I never forget a word you say, and you did say you had never been there.

  Lady Jane. So you — you, Jack — you accuse me — you — me ——

  Capt. Jennings. I haven’t, I haven’t.

  Lady Jane. You have all heard that Captain Jennings and I are engaged. I want you to understand that we are so no longer.

  Capt. Jennings. Jane!

  (She removes the engagement ring from her finger and hesitates how to transfer it to the donor, who is many seats apart from her. The ever-resourceful Dolphin goes to her with a tray on which she deposits the ring, and it is thus conveyed to the unhappy Jennings. Next moment Dolphin has to attend to the maid, who makes an audible gurgle of sympathy with love, which is a breach of etiquette. He opens the door for her, and she makes a shameful exit. He then fills the Captain’s glass.)

  Host (in one of his nicer moods). Take comfort, Captain. If Lady Jane should prove to be the person wanted — mind you, perhaps she isn’t — why, then the ring is a matter of small importance, because you would be parted in any case. I mean by the handcuffs. I forgot to say that I have them here. (He gropes at his feet, where other people merely have a table-napkin.) Pass them round, Dolphin. Perhaps some of you have never seen them before.

  Preen. A pocket edition of Pickwick we called him; he is more like a pocket edition of the devil.

  Host. Please, a little courtesy. After all, I am your host.

  (Dolphin goes the round of the table with the handcuffs on the tray that a moment ago contained a lover’s ring. They meet with no success.)

  Do take a look at them, Mrs. Castro; they are an adjustable pair in case they should be needed for small wrists. Would you like to try them on, Sir Joseph? They close with a click — a click.

  Sir Joseph (pettishly). We quite understand.

  (Mrs. Bland rises.)

  Mrs. Bland. How stupid of us. We have all forgotten that he said the murderer may have been a woman in man’s clothes, and I have just remembered that when we played the charade on Wednesday he wanted the ladies to dress up as men. Was it to see whether one of us looked as if she could have passed for a man that night at Monte Carlo?

  Host. You’ve got it, Mrs. Bland.

  Sir Joseph. Well, none of you did dress up, at any rate.

  Mrs. Bland (distressed). Oh, Sir Joseph. Some of us did dress up, in private, and we all agreed that — of course there’s nothing in it, but we all agreed that the only figure which might have deceived a careless eye was Lady Wrathie’s.

  Preen. I say!

  Lady Wrathie. Joseph, do you sit there and permit this?

  Host. Now, now, there is nothing to be touchy about. Have I not been considerate?

  Sir Joseph. Smith, I hold you to be an impudent scoundrel.

  Host. May not I, who lost a brother in circumstances so painful, appeal for a little kindly consideration from those of you who are innocent — shady characters though you be?

  Preen. I must say that rather touches me. Some of us might have reasons for being reluctant to have our past at Monte inquired into without being the person you are asking for.

  Host. Precisely. I am presuming that to be the position of eleven of you.

  Lady Wrathie. Joseph, I must ask you to come upstairs with me to pack our things.

  Miss Isit. For my part, after poor Mr. Smith’s appeal I think it would be rather heartless not to stay and see the thing out. Especially, Mr. Smith, if you would give us just an inkling of what your — little experiment — in the drawingroom — is to be?

  Host. I can’t say anything about it except that it isn’t to take place in the drawingroom. You ladies are to go this evening to Dolphin’s room, where we shall join you presently.

  (Even Dolphin is taken aback.)

  Mrs. Preen. Why should we go there?

  Host. Because I tell you to, Mrs. Preen.

  Lady Wrathie. I go to no such room. I leave this house at once.

  Mrs. Preen. I also.

  Lady Jane. All of us. I want to go home.

  Lady Wrathie. Joseph, come.

  Mrs. Preen. Willie, I am ready. I wish you a long goodbye, Mr. Smith.

  (Their dignified advance upon the door is spoilt on opening it by their finding a policeman (Mr. Norman Forbes) standing there. They glare at Mr. Smith.)

  Host. The ladies will now adjourn to Dolphin’s room.

  Lady Wrathie. I say no.

  Mrs. Castro. Let us. Why shouldn’t the innocent ones help him?

  (She gives Smith her hand with a disarming smile.)

  Host. I knew you would be on my side, Mrs. Castro. Cold hand — warm heart. That is the saying, isn’t it?

  (She shrinks.)

  Lady Wrathie. Those who wish to leave this man’s house, follow me.

  Host (for her special benefit). My brother’s cigarette-case was of faded green leather, and a hole had been burned in the back of it.

  (For some reason this takes the fight out of her, and she departs for Dolphin’s room, tossing her head, and followed by the other ladies.)

  Vaile (seeing Smith drop a word to Miss Vaile as she goes). What did you say to my sister?

  Host. I only said to her that she isn’t your sister. (The last lady to go is Miss Isit.) So you never met my brother, Miss Isit?

  Miss Isit. Not that I know of, Mr. Smith.

  Host. I have a photograph of him that I should like to show you.

  Miss Isit. I don’t care to see it.

  Host. You are going to see it. (It is in his pocket, and he suddenly puts it before her eyes.)

  Miss Isit (surprised). That is not —— (She checks herself.)

  Host. No, that is not my brother. That is someone you have never seen. But how did you know it wasn’t my brother?

  (She makes no answer.)

  I rather think you knew Dick, Miss Isit.

  Miss Isit (dropping him a curtsey). I rather think I did, Mr. Sam. What then?

  (She goes impudently. Now that the ladies have left the room, the men don’t quite know what to do except stare at their little host. Decanter in one hand and a box of cigarettes in the other, he toddles down to what would have been the hostess’s chair had there been a hostess.)

  Host. Draw up closer, won’t you?

  (They don’t want to, but they do, with the exception of Vaile, who is studying a picture very near the door.)

  You are not leaving us, Vaile?

  Vaile. I thought ——

  Host (sharply). Sit down.

  Vaile. Oh, quite.

  Host. You are not drinking anything, Gourlay. Captain, the port is with you.

  (The wine revolves, but no one partakes.)

  Preen (heavily). Smith, there are a few words that I think it my duty to say. This is a very unusual situation.