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diff --git a/old/13894-8.txt b/old/13894-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1500699 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13894-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4839 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Great Adventure, by Arnold Bennett + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Great Adventure + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: October 29, 2004 [eBook #13894] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT ADVENTURE*** + + +E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Leah Moser, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +THE GREAT ADVENTURE + +A Play of Fancy in Four Acts + +by + +ARNOLD BENNETT + +1913 + + + + + + + +CHARACTERS + + + ILAM CARVE An illustrious Painter + ALBERT SHAWN Ilam's Valet + DR. PASCOE + EDWARD HORNING Doctor's Assistant + CYRUS CARVE Ilam's Cousin, a City Auctioneer + FATHER LOOE A Catholic Priest + PETER HORNING A Journalist + EBAG A Picture Dealer + JOHN SHAWN A Curate + JAMES SHAWN His Brother, a Curate + LORD LEONARD ALCAR + TEXEL An American Millionaire + A WAITER + A PAGE + A SERVANT + JANET CANNOT A Widow + MRS. ALBERT SHAWN + HONORIA LOOE Sister of Father Looe + + + + + +SCENES + + + ACT I + ROOM IN ILAM CARVE'S HOUSE, 126 REDCLIFFE GARDENS + + ACT II + PRIVATE ROOM AT THE GRAND BABYLON HOTEL + + ACT III + JANET'S SITTING-ROOM AT WERTER ROAD, PUTNEY + + ACT IV + LORD LEONARD ALCAR'S STUDY, GROSVENOR GARDENS + +SPECIAL NOTE.--Each Act is divided into two scenes, separated by a +passage of time more or less short. The passage of time is indicated by +darkening the stage for a few moments. No change of scenery is +involved. + + + +NOTE + + +The play was produced for the first time in London at the Kingsway +Theatre, by Granville Barker, on Tuesday, March 25th, 1913. + + + +THE GREAT ADVENTURE + +ACT I + +SCENE I + + +Front room on ground floor at 126 Redcliffe Gardens. An apartment +furnished richly but in an old-fashioned way. Fine pictures. Large +furniture. Sofa near centre. General air of neglect and dustiness. +Carpet half-laid. Trunks and bags lying about in corners, some opened. +Men's wearing apparel exposed. Mantelpiece, R., in disorder. At back +double doors (ajar) leading to another room. Door, L., leading to +hall and front door. + +TIME.--Evening in August. + +ALBERT SHAWN is reclining on the sofa, fully dressed, but obviously +ill: an overcoat has been drawn over his legs. A conspicuous object is a +magnificent light purple dressing-gown thrown across a chair. + +Door bangs off. Enter ILAM CARVE in his shirt sleeves, hurriedly. +SHAWN feebly tries to get up. + +CARVE. Now, don't move. Remember you're a sick man, and forget you're a +servant. + + (SHAWN shivers. CARVE, about to put on his dressing-gown, + changes his mind, and wraps it round SHAWN as well as he can. + CARVE then puts on an oldish coat.) + +SHAWN. (Feebly.) You've been very quick, sir. + +CARVE. I found a red lamp only three doors off. He'll be along in half a +minute. + +SHAWN. Did you explain what it was, sir? + +CARVE. (Genially.) How could I explain what it was, you fool, when I +don't know? I simply asked to see the doctor, and I told him there was a +fellow-creature suffering at No. 126, and would he come at once. "126?" +he said, "126 has been shut up for years." + +SHAWN. (Trying to smile.) What did you say, sir? + +CARVE. I said (articulating with clearness) a hundred and +twenty-six--and ran off. Then he yelled out after me that he'd come +instantly.... I say, Shawn, we're discovered. I could tell that from his +sudden change of tone. I bet the entire street knows that the celebrated +Me has arrived at last. I feel like a criminal already, dashed if I +don't! I wish we'd gone to a hotel now. (Walks about.) I say, did you +make up the bed? + +SHAWN. I was just doing it, sir. + +CARVE. But what about sheets and so on? + +SHAWN. I bought some this morning, ready hemmed, sir--with those and the +travelling rug---- + +CARVE. Well, don't you think you could work your passage out to the bed? +With my help? + +SHAWN. Me in your bed, sir! + +CARVE. (Genially bullying.) Keep on in that tone--and I'll give you +the sack on the spot. Now then. Try--before the doctor comes. (Bell +rings.) + +SHAWN. The bell, sir--excuse me. + +CARVE. Confound---- + + (Exit CARVE.) + + (SHAWN coughs and puts a handkerchief to his mouth. CARVE + returns immediately with DR. PASCOE.) + +PASCOE. (Glancing round quickly.) This the patient? (Goes to SHAWN, +and looks at him. Then, taking a clinical thermometer from his pocket +and wiping it; with marked respect.) Allow me to put this under your +tongue for half a minute. (Having done so, he takes SHAWN'S wrist +and, looking at his watch, counts the patient's pulse. Then turning to +CARVE, in a low curt voiced) When did this begin? + +CARVE. Just now. That is, he only began to complain about six o'clock. +We arrived in London this morning from Madrid. + +PASCOE. (Reading thermometer.) Temperature 104-1/2. Pulse is 140--and +weak. I must have some boiling water. + +CARVE. (At a loss.) What for? + +PASCOE. What for? For a poultice. + +CARVE. (Helplessly.) But there isn't any ... we've nothing except this +spirit-lamp. (Pointing to lamp on table.) + +PASCOE. No women in the house? + +CARVE. (With humour that the doctor declines to see.) Not one. + +PASCOE. (Controlling his exasperation.) Never mind. I'll run round to +the surgery and get my hypodermic. (To SHAWN, reassuringly and +deferentially.) I shall be back at once, Mr. Carve. (To CARVE, near +door.) Keep your master well covered up--I suppose you can do that? + + (Exit.) + +CARVE. Shawn, my poor fellow, he takes you for the illustrious Ilam +Carve. This is what comes of me rushing out in shirt sleeves. (Gesture +of despair.) I can't explain it to him. + +SHAWN. But---- + +CARVE. It's all right. You'll be infinitely better looked after, you +know, and I shall be saved from their infernal curiosity. + +SHAWN. It's only this, sir. I was half-expecting a young lady to-night, +sir (very feebly). At least, I believe she's young. + +CARVE. Shawn, I've always suspected you were a bad lot. Now I know. I +also know why you were so devilish anxious to put me to bed early. What +am I to say to this young lady on your behalf? + + (SHAWN worse, too ill to answer. Pause. Re-enter DR. PASCOE, + very rapidly, with a large tumbler half-full of hot liquid.) + +PASCOE. You may say I've been quick. (As he bends down to SHAWN, +addressing CARVE.) Get me a wine glass of clean cold water. (To +SHAWN.) Now, please. I want you to drink a little brandy and water. +(SHAWN makes no response.) By Jove! (The doctor pours some of the +brandy and water down SHAWN'S throat.) + +CARVE. (Who has been wandering about vaguely.) I don't think we've got +a wine glass. There's a cup, but I suppose that isn't medical enough. + +PASCOE. (Taking a syringe from his pocket and unscrewing it.) Pour +some water in it. (CARVE obeys.) Now, hold it. + +CARVE. (Indicating syringe.) What is this device? PASCOE. This device? +I'm going to get some strychnine into him by injection. Steady with that +cup, now! + + (Pascoe drops a tablet into the syringe and screws it up again, + draws a little water up into the syringe and shakes the syringe. + Then he goes to SHAWN to make the injection, on the top side of + the patient's forearm. CARVE still holds the cup out + mechanically.) + +PASCOE. I've done with that cup. + +CARVE. (Putting the cup down.) Might I ask what's the matter with him? + +PASCOE. Pneumonia is the matter. + + (Noise of some one in the hall.) + +CARVE. (Startled.) Surely that's some one in the hall. + +PASCOE. Keep perfectly calm, my man. It's my assistant. I left the door +open on purpose for him. He's got the poultice and things. (In a loud +voice as he finishes the injection.) Come along, come along there. This +way. + + (Enter EDWARD HORNING with poultice, lint, bandages, etc.) + PASCOE. Found the antiphlogistine? + +EDWARD. Yes. (He looks at patient, and exchanges a glance with +PASCOE.) + +PASCOE. Where's the bedroom? + +CARVE. There's one there. (Pointing to double doors.) + +PASCOE. (To HORNING.) We'll get him into bed now. (To CARVE.) Bed +ready? + +CARVE. Yes. I--I think he was just making it up. + +PASCOE. (Startled.) Does he make up his own bed? + +CARVE. (Perceiving the mistake, but resuming his calm.) Always. + +PASCOE. (Controlling his astonishment; looking through double doors and +opening them wider. To HORNING.) Yes, this will do. Put those things +down here a minute while we lift him. + + (PASCOE and HORNING then carry the inanimate form of SHAWN + into the room behind, while CARVE hovers about uselessly.) + +CARVE. Can I do anything? + +PASCOE. (Indicating a chair furthest away from the double doors.) You +see that chair? + +CARVE. I see it. + +PASCOE. Go and sit on it. + + (Exeunt PASCOE and HORNING, back, closing double door's.) + + (After walking about, CARVE sits down on another chair. A bell + rings twice. He pays no attention. Then enter JANET CANNOT, L. + CARVE jumps up, but is inarticulate, though very favourably + interested.) + +JANET. (Smiling sympathetically.) I rang twice. + +CARVE. The bell must be out of order. + +JANET. I couldn't be sure, but I don't think it's the bell that's out of +order. + +CARVE. Oh! You think I'm out of order. + +JANET. No. I was thinking that you'd only just come into the house--all +you famous folk--and you hadn't quite got it straight yet--as it were. +(Looking vaguely at room.) + +CARVE. All we famous folk? + +JANET. Well--I don't know myself about that sort of thing. + +CARVE. What sort of thing? + +JANET. Picture-painting, isn't it? I mean real pictures done by hand, +coloured----CARVE. Ah--yes. + +JANET. (After a slight pause.) It struck me all of a sudden, while I +was waiting at the door, that it might have been left open on purpose. + +CARVE. The front door? On purpose? What for? + +JANET. Oh--for some one particular to walk in without any fuss. So in I +stepped. + +CARVE. You're the young lady that Mr. Shawn's expecting----(Going +towards passage.) + +JANET. (Stopping him.) It's shut now. You don't want everybody +walking in, do you? + +CARVE. (Looking at JANET with pleasure.) So you're the young +lady--Mrs.--Miss---- + +JANET. (Ignoring his question.) Was it a message you had for me? + +CARVE. No, no. Not a message.... But--the fact is, we're rather upset +here for the moment. + +JANET. Yes. Illness. + +CARVE. Now, if it isn't an indiscreet question, how did you know that +there was illness? + +JANET. I was standing looking at this house and wondering whether I +shouldn't do better to go right back home there and then. But "No," I +said, "I've begun, and I'll go through with it."--Well, I was standing +there when what should I see but a parlour maid pop up from the area +steps next door, and she says to me over the railings, "The doctor's +just been." Just like that, excited. So I said, "Thank you, miss." I +hope it's nothing serious? + +CARVE. Pneumonia. + +JANET. Pneumonia. What a mercy! + +CARVE. Mercy? + +JANET. If you look at it sensibly it's about the best illness anybody +could have in hot weather like this. You've got to keep them warm. The +weather does it for you. If it was typhoid now, and you'd got to keep +them cool--that would be awkward. Not but it passes me how anybody can +catch pneumonia in August. + +CARVE. Coming over from the Continent. + +JANET. Oh! the Continent. It's not Mr. Shawn that's ill? + +CARVE. (Hesitating.) Mr. Shawn? Oh no, no! It's Ilam Carve. + +JANET. (Half whispering. Awed.) Oh, him! Poor thing. And nobody but +men in the house. + +CARVE. And who told you that? + +JANET. Well! (waves her hand to indicate the state of the room, smiling +indulgently) I always feel sorry for gentlemen when they have to manage +for themselves, even if they're well and hearty. But when it comes to +illness--I can't bear to think about it. Still, everybody has their own +notions of comfort. And I've no doubt he'll very soon be better. + +CARVE. You think he will? + +JANET. (Blandly cheerful.) As a general rule, you may say that people +do get better. That's my experience. Of course sometimes they take a +longish time. And now and then one dies--else what use would cemeteries +be? But as a general rule they're soon over it. Now am I going to see +Mr. Shawn, or shall I---- + +CARVE. Well, if you could call again---- + +JANET. You say you hadn't a message? + +CARVE. Not precisely a message. But if you could call again---- + +JANET. When? + +CARVE. (Rather eagerly.) Any time. Any time. Soon. + +JANET. Night after to-morrow? + +CARVE. Why not morning? + +JANET. Perhaps morning is safer. Thank you. Very well, then. Day after +to-morrow.... I suppose Mr. Shawn has a rare fine situation here? + +CARVE. (Shrugging his shoulders.) Nothing to complain of, if you ask +me. + +(JANET offers her hand quite simply. The double doors open, CARVE +looks alarmed.) + +JANET. Thank you very much. I think I can open the front door myself. + +CARVE. I say--you won't forget? + +JANET. Well, what do you think? + + (Exit, L.) + + (Enter DR. PASCOE through double doors.) + +PASCOE. (At double doors, to HORNING invisible behind.) Then there's +no reason why the nurse at Edith Grove shouldn't come along here. + +HORNING. (Off.) Yes. She'll be free in an hour. + +PASCOE. All right. I'll look in there. + +HORNING. (Nervous.) What am I to do if his respiration---- + +PASCOE. (Interrupting.) Don't worry. I'm not gone yet. I must just +clean up my hypodermic. Shut those doors. + + (HORNING obeys.) + +CARVE. What's this about a nurse? + +PASCOE. (Busy with syringe, water, and syringe-case.) I'm sending one +in. (Ironically.) Do you see any objection? + +CARVE. On the contrary, I should like him to be treated with every care. +He's invaluable to me. + +PASCOE. (Staggered.) Invaluable to you! Of course in my line of +business I get used to meeting odd people---- + +CARVE. (Recovering from his mistake.) But you think I carry oddness +rather far? + +PASCOE. The idea did pass through my mind. + +CARVE. Nervousness--nothing but nervousness. I'm very nervous. And +then--you know the saying--like master, like man. + +PASCOE. (Indicating back room with a gesture; in a slightly more +confidential tone as CARVE'S personal attractiveness gains on him.) +Mr. Carve odd? + +CARVE. Oh, very. Always was. Ever since I've known him. You remember his +first picture at the Academy? + +PASCOE. No, not exactly. + +CARVE. Either you remember it exactly or you don't remember it at all. +Life-size picture of a policeman blowing his whistle. + +PASCOE. Yes; it must have been odd, that must. + +CARVE. Not a bit. The oddness of the fellow---- + +PASCOE. What 'fellow'--your governor? + +CARVE. (Nods.) His oddness came out in this way--although the thing +had really a great success, from that day to this he's never painted +another life-size picture of a policeman blowing his whistle. + +PASCOE. I don't see anything very odd there---- + +CARVE. Don't you? Well, perhaps you don't go in for art much. If you +did, you'd know that the usual and correct thing for a painter who has +made a great success with a life-size picture of a policeman blowing his +whistle, is to keep on doing life-size pictures of a policeman blowing +his whistle for ever and ever, so that the public can always count on +getting from him a life-size picture of a policeman blowing his whistle. + +PASCOE. I observe you are one of those comic valets. Nervousness again, +no doubt. + +CARVE. (Smiling and continuing.) Seeing the way he invariably flouted +the public, it's always been a mystery to me how he managed to make a +name, to say nothing of money. + +PASCOE. Money! He must make pots. You say I don't go in for art much, +but I always read the big sales at Christie's. Why, wasn't it that +policeman picture that Lord Leonard Alcar bought for 2000 guineas last +year? + +CARVE. No, not Alcar. I think the bobby was last bought by Texel. + +PASCOE. Texel? Who's Texel? + +CARVE. Collector--United States--one of their kings, I'm told. + +PASCOE. Oh, him! Controls all the ink in the United States. + +CARVE. Really! That's what I should call influence. No. It was the +"Pelicans feeding their Young" that Alcar bought. Four thousand. You're +getting mixed up. + +PASCOE. Perhaps I am. I know I'm constantly seeing Mr. Carve's name in +connection with Lord Leonard Alcar's. It's a nice question which is the +best known of the two. + +CARVE. Then the--governor really is famous in England? You see we never +come to England. + +PASCOE. Famous--I should think he was. Aren't they always saying he's +the finest colourist since Titian? And look at his prices! + +CARVE. Yes. I've looked at his prices. Titian's prices are higher, but +Titian isn't what you'd call famous with the general public, is he? +What I want to know is--is the governor famous among the general +public? + +PASCOE. Yes. + +CARVE. About how famous should you say he is? + +PASCOE. (Hesitating.) Well--(abruptly) that's a silly question. + +CARVE. No, it isn't. Is he as famous as--er--Harry Lauder? + +PASCOE. (Shakes his head.) You mustn't go to extremes. + +CARVE. Is he as famous as Harry Vardon? + +PASCOE. Never heard of him. + +CARVE. I only see these names in the papers. Is he as famous as Bernard +Shaw? + +PASCOE. Yes, I should say he was. + +CARVE. Oh, well that's not so bad. Better than I thought! It's so +difficult to judge where one is--er--personally concerned. Especially if +you're never on the spot. + +PASCOE. So it's true Mr. Carve never comes to England? + +CARVE. Why should he come to England? He isn't a portrait painter. It's +true he owns this house, but surely that isn't sufficient excuse for +living in a place like England? + +PASCOE. Of course, if you look at it like that, there's no particular +attractiveness in England that I've ever seen. But that answer wouldn't +satisfy Redcliffe Gardens. Redcliffe Gardens is persuaded that there +must be a special reason. + +CARVE. Well, there is. + +PASCOE. (Interested, in spite of himself.) Indeed! + +CARVE. (Confidentially.) Have a cigarette? (Offering case.) + +PASCOE. (Staggered anew, but accepting.) That's a swagger case. + +CARVE. Oh! (Calmly.) He gave it me. + +PASCOE. Really? + +CARVE. Well, you see we're more like brothers--been together so long. He +gives me his best suits too. Look at this waistcoat. (Motions the +hypnotised PASCOE to take a chair. They light their cigarettes.) + +(Enter HORNING.) + +PASCOE. (Somewhat impatient.) He's not worse already? + +HORNING. Where's that brandy and water? + +PASCOE. Be careful. He's had about enough of that. + +HORNING. Seeing I've had no dinner yet--I thought it might suit me. +(Exit with tumbler.) + +PASCOE. (To Carve with renewed eagerness.) So there is a special +reason why you keep out of England. + +CARVE. Yes--shyness. + +PASCOE. How--shyness? + +CARVE. Just simple shyness. Shyness is a disease with the governor, a +perfect disease. + +PASCOE. But everyone's shy. The more experience I get the more convinced +I am that we're all shy. Why, you were shy when you came to fetch me! + +CARVE. Did you notice it? + +PASCOE. Of course. And I was shy when I came in here. I was thinking to +myself, "Now I'm going to see the great Ilam Carve actually in the +flesh," and I was shy. You'd think my profession would have cured me of +being shy, but not a bit. Nervous disease, of course! Ought to be +treated as such. Almost universal. Besides, even if he is shy, your +governor--even if he's a hundredfold shy, that's no reason for keeping +out of England. Shyness is not one of those diseases you can cure by +change of climate. + +CARVE. Pardon me. My esteemed employer's shyness is a special shyness. +He's only shy when he has to play the celebrity. So long as people take +him for no one in particular he's quite all right. For instance, he's +never shy with me. But instantly people approach him as the celebrity, +instantly he sees in the eye of the beholder any consciousness of being +in the presence of a toff--then he gets desperately shy, and his one +desire is to be alone at sea or to be buried somewhere deep in the +bosom of the earth. (PASCOE laughs.) What are you laughing at? (CARVE +also laughs.) + +PASCOE. Go on, go on. I'm enjoying it. + +CARVE. No, but seriously! It's true what I tell you. It amounts almost +to a tragedy in the brilliant career of my esteemed. You see now that +England would be impossible for him as a residence. You see, don't you? + +PASCOE. Quite. + +CARVE. Why, even on the Continent, in the big towns and the big hotels, +we often travel incognito for safety. It's only in the country districts +that he goes about under his own name. + +PASCOE. So that he's really got no friends? + +CARVE. None, except a few Italian and Spanish peasants--and me. + +PASCOE. Well, well! It's an absolute mania then, this shyness. + +CARVE. (Slightly hurt.) Oh, not so bad as that! And then it's only +fair to say he has his moments of great daring--you may say rashness. + +PASCOE. All timid people are like that. + +CARVE. Are they? (Musing.) We're here now owing to one of his moments +of rashness. + +PASCOE. Indeed! + +CARVE. Yes. We met an English lady in a village in Andalusia, and--well, +of course, I can't tell you everything--but she flirted with him and he +flirted with her. + +PASCOE. Under his own name? + +CARVE. Yes. And then he proposed to her. I knew all along it was a +blunder. + +PASCOE. (Ironic.) Did you? + +CARVE. Yes. She belonged to the aristocracy, and she was one of those +amateur painters that wander about the Continent by themselves--you +know. + +PASCOE. And did she accept? + +CARVE. Oh yes. They got as far as Madrid together, and then all of a +sudden my esteemed saw that he had made a mistake. + +PASCOE. And what then? + +CARVE. We fled the country. We hooked it. The idea of coming to London +struck him--just the caprice of a man who's lost his head--and here we +are. + +PASCOE. (After a pause.) He doesn't seem to me from the look of him to +be a man who'd--shall we say?--strictly avoided women. + +CARVE. (Startled, with a gesture towards back.) Him? + + (PASCOE nods.) + +Really! Confound him! Now I've always suspected that; though he manages +to keep his goings-on devilish quiet. + +PASCOE. (Rising.) It occurs to me, my friend, that I'm listening to +too much. But you're so persuasive. + +CARVE. It's such a pleasure to talk freely--for once in a way. + +PASCOE. Freely--is the word. + +CARVE. Oh! He won't mind! + +PASCOE. (In a peculiar tone.) It's quite possible! + + (Enter HORNING.) + +HORNING. (To Carve.) I say, it's just occurred to me, Mr. Carve hasn't +been digging or gardening or anything, I suppose, and then taken cold +after? + +CARVE. Digging? Oh no. He must have got a bad chill on the steamer. Why? + +HORNING. Nothing. Only his hands and finger-nails are so rough. + +CARVE. (After thinking.) Oh, I see! All artists are like that. Messing +about with paints and acids and things. Look at my hands. + +PASCOE. But are you an artist too? + +CARVE. (Recovering himself, calmly.) No, no. + +PASCOE. (To Horning.) How's he going on? + +HORNING. (Shrugs his shoulders.) I'm sure the base of both lungs is +practically solid. + +PASCOE. Well, we can't do more than we have done, my boy. + +HORNING. He'll never pull through. + +PASCOE. (Calmly.) I should certainly be surprised if he did. + +CARVE. (Astounded.) But--but---- + +PASCOE. But what? + +CARVE. You don't mean to say--Why, he's a strong healthy man! + +PASCOE. Precisely. Not very unusual for your strong healthy man to die +of pneumonia in twenty-four hours. You ought to know, at your age, that +it's a highly dangerous thing to be strong and healthy. (Turning +away.) I'll have another look at him before I go. + +CARVE. (Extremely perturbed.) But this is ridiculous. I simply don't +know what I shall do without that man. + + The stage is darkened for a few moments to indicate passage of + time. + + + + +SCENE 2 + + +TIME.--The next morning but one. Slightly less disorder in the room. + +CARVE and PASCOE are together, the latter ready to leave. + +CARVE. Will there have to be an inquest? + +PASCOE. Inquest? Of course not. + +CARVE. It's some relief to know that. I couldn't have faced a coroner. + +PASCOE. (Staring at him.) Perfectly ordinary case. + +CARVE. That's what you call perfectly ordinary, is it? A man is quite +well on Tuesday afternoon, and dead at 4 a.m. on Thursday morning. +(Looking at his watch.) My watch has stopped. + +PASCOE. (With fierce sarcasm.) One of those cheap German watches, I +suppose, that stop when you don't wind them up! It's a singular thing +that when people stay up all night they take it for granted their +watches are just as excited as they are. Look here, you'll be collapsing +soon. When did you have anything to eat last? + +CARVE. Almost half an hour ago. Two sausages that were sent in yesterday +for the nurse. + +PASCOE. She's gone? + +CARVE. Oh yes. + +PASCOE. Well, take my advice. Try to get some sleep now. You've had no +reply from the relatives--the auctioneer cousin--what's his Christian +name--Cyrus? + +CARVE. No, I--I didn't telegraph--I forgot---- + +PASCOE. Well, upon my soul! I specially reminded you yesterday +afternoon. + +CARVE. I didn't know the address. + +PASCOE. Ever heard of the London Directory? You'd better run out and +wire instantly. You don't seem to realize that the death of a man like +Ilam Carve will make something of a stir in the world. And you may +depend on it that whether they'd quarrelled or not, Cyrus Carve will +want to know why he wasn't informed of the illness at once. You've let +yourself in for a fine row, and well you deserve it. + +CARVE. (After a few paces.) See here, doctor. I'm afraid there's been +some mistake. (Facing him nervously.) + +PASCOE. What? + +CARVE. I--I---- + + (Bell rings.) + +PASCOE. (Firmly.) Listen to me, my man. There's been no sort of +mistake. Everything has been done that could be done. Don't you get +ideas into your head. Lie down and rest. You're done up, and if you +aren't careful you'll be ill. I'll communicate with Cyrus Carve. I can +telephone, and while I'm about it I'll ring up the registrar too--he'll +probably send a clerk round. + +CARVE. Registrar? + +PASCOE. Registrar of deaths. There'll be all kinds of things to attend +to. (Moving to go out.) + + (Bell rings again.) + +CARVE. (As if dazed.) Is that the front door bell? + +PASCOE. (Drily.) Quite possibly! I'll open it. + + (Exit.) + + (CARVE, alone, makes a gesture of despair. Re-enter PASCOE with + CYRUS CARVE.) + +PASCOE. (As they enter.) Yes, very sudden, very sudden. There were +three of us--a nurse, my assistant, and myself. This is Mr. Shawn, the +deceased's valet. + +CYRUS. Morning. (Looks round at disorder of room contemptuously.) +Pigstye!... My name is Cyrus Carve. I'm your late master's cousin and +his only relative. You've possibly never heard of me. + +CARVE. (Curtly.) Oh yes, I have! You got up a great quarrel when you +were aged twelve, you and he. + +CYRUS. Your manner isn't very respectful, my friend. However you may +have treated my cousin, be good enough to remember you're not my +valet. + +CARVE. How did you get to know about it? + +CYRUS. I suppose he forbade you to send for me, eh? (Pause.) Eh? + +CARVE. (Jumping at this suggestion.) Yes. + +PASCOE. So that was it. + +CYRUS. (Ignoring PASCOE.) Ha! Well, since you're so curious, I saw it +a quarter of an hour ago in a special edition of a halfpenny rag; I was +on my way to the office. (Showing paper.) Here you are! The Evening +Courier. Quite a full account of the illness. You couldn't send for me, +but you could chatter to some journalist. + +CARVE. I've never spoken to a journalist in my life. + +CYRUS. Then how----? + +PASCOE. It's probably my assistant. His brother is something rather +important on the Courier, and he may have telephoned to him. It's a +big item of news, you know, Mr. Carve. + +CYRUS. (Drily.) I imagine so. Where is the body? + +PASCOE. Upstairs. (Moving towards door.) + +CYRUS. Thanks. I will go alone. + +PASCOE. Large room at back--first floor. + + (Exit CYRUS, L.) + +I think I'd prefer to leave you to yourselves now. Of course, Mr. Carve +will do all that's necessary. You might give him my card, and tell him +I'm at his service as regards signing the death certificate and so on. +(Handing card.) + +CARVE. (Taking card perfunctorily.) Very well. Then you're going? +PASCOE. Yes. (Moves away and then suddenly puts out his hand, which +CARVE takes.) Want a word of advice? + +CARVE. I--I ought---- + +PASCOE. If I were you I should try to get something better than +valeting. It's not your line. You may have suited Ilam Carve, but you'd +never suit an ordinary employer. You aren't a fool--not by any means. + + (CARVE shrugs his shoulders.) + + (Exit PASCOE, L. Door shuts off.) + + (Re-enter CYRUS immediately after the door shuts.) + +CARVE. (To himself.) Now for it! (To CYRUS). Well? + +CYRUS. Well what? + +CARVE. Recognize your cousin? + +CYRUS. Of course a man of forty-five isn't like a boy of twelve, but I +think I may say I should have recognized him anywhere. + +CARVE. (Taken aback.) Should you indeed. (A pause.) And so you're +Cyrus, the little boy that kicked and tried to bite in that historic +affray of thirty years ago. + +CYRUS. Look here, I fancy you and I had better come to an understanding +at once. What salary did my cousin pay you for your remarkable services? + +CARVE. What salary? + +CYRUS. What salary? + +CARVE. Eighty pounds a year. + +CYRUS. When were you last paid? + +CARVE. I--I---- + +CYRUS. When were you last paid? + +CARVE. The day before yesterday. + +CYRUS. (Taking a note and gold from his pocket-book and pocket.) +Here's seven pounds--a month's wages in lieu of notice. It's rather more +than a month's wages, but I can't do sums in my head just now. (Holding +out money.) + +CARVE. But listen---- + +CYRUS. (Commandingly.) Take it. + + (CARVE obeys.) + +Pack up and be out of this house within an hour. + +CARVE. I---- + +CYRUS. I shall not argue.... Did your master keep his private papers and +so on in England or somewhere on the Continent--what bank? + +CARVE. What bank? He didn't keep them in any bank. + +CYRUS. Where did he keep them then? + +CARVE. He kept them himself. + +CYRUS. What--travelling? + +CARVE. Yes. Why not? + +CYRUS. (With a "tut-tut" noise to indicate the business man's mild +scorn of the artist's method's.) Whose is this luggage? + +CARVE. Mine. + +CYRUS. All of it? + +CARVE. That is---- + +CYRUS. Come now, is it his or is it yours? Now be careful. + +CARVE. His. (Angrily, as CYRUS roughly handles a box.) Now then, +mind what you're about! Those are etching things. + +CYRUS. I shall mind what I'm about. And what's this? + +CARVE. That's a typewriter. + +CYRUS. I always thought artists couldn't stand typewriting machines. + +CARVE. That was--his servant's. + +CYRUS. Yours, you mean? + +CARVE. Yes, I mean mine. + +CYRUS. Then why don't you say so? What do you want a typewriter for? + +CARVE. (Savagely.) What the devil has that got to do with you? + +CYRUS. (Looking up calmly from the examination of a dispatch box.) If +you can't keep a civil tongue in your head I'll pitch you down the +front-door steps and your things after you. + +CARVE. I've got something to tell you---- + +CYRUS. Silence, and answer my questions! Are his papers in this dispatch +box? + +CARVE. Yes. + +CYRUS. Where are his keys? + +CARVE. (Slowly drawing bunch of keys from his pocket.) Here. + +CYRUS. (Taking them.) So you keep his keys? + +CARVE. Yes. + +CYRUS. (Opening dispatch box.) Wear his clothes too, I should say! + +(CARVE sits down negligently and smiles.) + +CYRUS. (As he is examining papers in box.) What are you laughing at? + +CARVE. I'm not laughing. I'm smiling. (Rising and looking curiously at +box.) There's nothing there except lists of securities and pictures and +a few oddments--passports and so on. + +CYRUS. There appears to be some money. I'm glad you've left that. Quite +a lot, in fact. (Showing notes.) + +CARVE. Here, steady! There's twelve thousand francs there besides some +English notes. That's mine. + +CYRUS. Yours, eh? He was taking care of it for you, no doubt? + +CARVE. (Hesitating.) Yes. + +CYRUS. When you can furnish me with his receipt for the deposit, my man, +it shall be handed to you. Till then it forms part of the estate. +(Looking at a packet of letters.) "Alice Rowfant." + +CARVE. And those letters are mine too. + +CYRUS. (Reading.) "My dearest boy"--Were you Lady Alice Rowfant's +dearest boy? Anyhow, we'll burn them. + +CARVE. So long as you burn them I don't mind. + +CYRUS. Indeed! (Continues to examine papers, cheque foils, etc. Then +opens a document.) + +CARVE. Oh! Is that still there? I thought it was destroyed. + +CYRUS. Do you know what it is? + +CARVE. Yes. It's a will that was made in Venice I don't know how long +ago--just after your aunt died and you had that appalling and final +shindy by correspondence about the lease of this house. Everything is +left for the establishment of an International Gallery of Painting and +Sculpture in London, and you're the sole executor, and you get a legacy +of five pounds for your trouble. + +CYRUS. Yes.... So I see. No doubt my cousin imagined it would annoy me. + +CARVE. He did. + +CYRUS. He told you so? + +CARVE. He said it would be one in the eye for you--and he wondered +whether you'd decline the executorship. + +CYRUS. Well, my man, I may tell you at once that I shall not renounce +probate. I never expected a penny from my cousin. I always assumed he'd +do something silly with his money, and I'm relieved to find it's no +worse. In fact, the idea of a great public institution in London being +associated with my family is rather pleasant. + +CARVE. But he meant to destroy that will long since. + +CYRUS. (As he cons the will.) How do you know? Has he made a later +will? + +CARVE. No. + +CYRUS. Well, then! Besides, I fail to see why you should be so anxious +to have it destroyed. You come into eighty pounds a year under it. + +CARVE. I was forgetting that. + +CYRUS. (Reading.) "I bequeath to my servant, Albert Shawn, who I am +convinced is a thorough rascal, but who is an unrivalled valet, courier, +and factotum, the sum of eighty pounds a year for life, payable +quarterly in advance, provided he is in my service at the time of my +death." + + (CARVE laughs shortly.) + +You don't want to lose that, do you? Of course, if the term "thorough +rascal" is offensive to you, you can always decline the money. (Folds +up will and puts it in his pocket--CARVE walks about.) Now where's +the doctor? + +CARVE. He's left his card. There it is. + +CYRUS. He might have waited. + +CARVE. Yes. But he didn't. His house is only three doors off. + +CYRUS. (Looking at his watch.) I'll go in and see him about the +certificate. Now you haven't begun to put your things together, and +you've only got a bit over half an hour. In less than that time I shall +be back. I shall want to look through your luggage before you leave. + +CARVE. (Lightly.) Shall you? + +CYRUS. By the way, you have a latchkey? (CARVE nods.) Give it me, +please. + + (CARVE surrenders latchkey.) + + (CYRUS turns to go--As he is disappearing through the door, L., + CARVE starts forward.) + +CARVE. I say. + +CYRUS. What now? + +CARVE. (Subsiding weakly.) Nothing. + + (Exit CYRUS. Sound of front door opening and of voices in + hall.) + + (Then re-enter CYRUS with JANET CANNOT.) + +CYRUS. This is Mr. Albert Shawn. Shawn, a friend of yours. + + (Exit L.) + +CARVE. (Pleased.) Oh! You! + +JANET. Good-morning. D'you know, I had a suspicion the other night that +you must be Mr. Shawn? + +CARVE. Had you? Well, will you sit down--er--I say (with a humorous +mysterious air). What do you think of that chap? (Pointing in +direction of hall.) + +JANET. Who is it? + +CARVE. It's Mr. Cyrus Carve. The great West End auctioneer. + +(Sound of front-door shutting rather too vigorously.) + +JANET. Well, I see no reason why he should look at me as if I'd insulted +him. + +CARVE. Did he? + +JANET. "Good-morning," I said to him. "Excuse me, but are you Mr. Albert +Shawn?" Because I wasn't sure, you know. And he looked. + +CARVE. (After laughing.) The man is an ass. + +JANET. Is he? + +CARVE. Not content with being an ass merely, he is a pompous and a +stupid ass. (Laughs again to himself.) Now there is something very +important that he ought to know, and he wouldn't let me tell him. +JANET. Really? + +CARVE. Yes, very important. But no. He wouldn't let me tell him. And +perhaps if I'd told him he wouldn't have believed me. + +JANET. What did he do to stop you from telling him? + +CARVE. (At a loss, vaguely.) I don't know--Wouldn't let me. + +JANET. If you ask me, I should say the truth is, you didn't want to tell +him. + +CARVE. (Impressed.) Now I wonder if you're right. + +JANET. Well, I don't quite see how anybody can stop anybody from +talking. But even if he did, he can't stop you from writing to him. + +CARVE. No, I'm hanged if I write to him! + +JANET. Oh, well, that's a proof you didn't want to tell him. + +CARVE. Perhaps it is. (After a burst of quiet laughter.) Pardon me. +(Reflective.) I was only thinking what a terrific lark it will be. + +JANET. If he never does get to know? + +CARVE. If he never does get to know. If nobody ever gets to know. +(Resolved.) No. I'll keep my mouth shut. + +JANET. As a general rule, it's the best thing to do. + +CARVE. You advise me to keep my mouth shut? + +JANET. Not at all. I simply say, as a general rule it's the best thing +to do. But this is no business of mine, and I'm sure I'm not +inquisitive. + +CARVE. (Solemnly.) He shall go his own way. (Pause.) And +I'll--go--mine. + +JANET. (Calmly indifferent.) That's settled, then. + +CARVE. (Laughs again to himself, then controls his features.) And that +being settled, the first thing I have to do is to apologize for my +behaviour on Tuesday night. + +JANET. Oh, not at all. Seeing how upset you were! And then I'm not sure +whether I shouldn't have done the same thing myself in your place. + +CARVE. Done the same yourself? + +JANET. Well, I may be wrong, but it occurred to me your idea was that +you'd like to have a look at me before giving yourself away, as it were. +Of course, I sent you my photographs, but photographs aren't much better +than gravestones--for being reliable, and some folks are prejudiced +against matrimonial agencies, even when they make use of them. It's +natural. Now I've got no such prejudice. If you want to get married you +want to get married, and there you are. It's no use pretending you +don't. And there's as much chance of being happy through a matrimonial +agency as any other way. At least--that's what I think. + +CARVE. (Collecting his wits.) Just so. + +JANET. You may tell me that people who go to a matrimonial agency stand +a chance of getting let in. Well, people who don't go to a matrimonial +agency stand a chance of getting let in, too. Besides, I shouldn't give +a baby a razor for a birthday present, and I shouldn't advise a young +girl to go to a matrimonial agency. But I'm not a young girl. If it's a +question of the male sex, I may say that I've been there before. You +understand me? + +CARVE. Quite. + +JANET. Well, I think I told you pretty nearly everything important in my +letter. Didn't I? + +CARVE. Let me see now---- + +JANET. I mean the one I sent to the office of the Matrimonial News. + +CARVE. (Mechanically feeling in his pockets, pulling out papers and +putting them back.) Where did I put it? Oh, perhaps it's in the pocket +of another coat. (Goes to a coat of SHAWN'S hanging on inner knob of +double doors, and empties all the pockets, bringing the contents, +including a newspaper, to the table.) + +JANET. (Picking up an envelope.) Yes, that's it--I can feel the +photograph. You seem to keep things in the pockets of all your coats. + +CARVE. If you knew what I've been through this last day or two---- + +JANET. (Soothingly.) Yes, yes. + +CARVE. I haven't had a quiet moment. Now----(Reading letter.) "Dear +Sir, in reply to your advertisement, I write to you with particulars of +my case. I am a widow, aged thirty-two years----" + +JANET. And anybody that likes can see my birth certificate. That's what +I call talking. + +CARVE. My dear lady! (Continuing to read.) "Thirty-two years. My +father was a jobbing builder, well known in Putney and Wandsworth. My +husband was a rent collector and estate agent. He died four years ago of +appendicitis (hesitating) caught----" + +JANET. Caused. + +CARVE. I beg pardon, "--caused by accidentally swallowing a bristle out +of his tooth-brush, the same being discovered at the operation. I am an +orphan, a widow, and have no children. In consequence I feel very +lonely, and my first experience not being distasteful, indeed the +reverse, I am anxious to try again, provided I can meet with a sincere +helpmeet of good family. I am the owner of the above house, rated at +forty-five pounds a year, in one of the nicest streets in Putney, and I +have private means of some three pounds a week, from brewery shares +bringing in fifteen per cent. I will say nothing about my appearance, +but enclose latest carte-de-visite photograph." + +JANET. I had it taken on purpose. + +CARVE. "As to my tastes, I will only say that as a general rule they are +quiet. If the above seems in your line, I shall be obliged if you will +write and send me particulars of yourself, with photographs.--Yours +truly, JANET CANNOT." Well, Mrs. Cannot, your letter is an absolute +model. + +JANET. I suppose you did get dozens? + +CARVE. Well----By the way, what's this type-written thing in the +envelope? + +JANET. (Looking at it.) It looks like a copy of your answer. + +CARVE. Oh! + +JANET. If it isn't a rude question, Mr. Shawn, why do you typewrite your +letters? It seems so--what shall I say?--public. + +CARVE. (Half to himself.) So thats the explanation of the +typewriter. + +JANET. (Puzzled.) I suppose it's because you're a private secretary. + +CARVE. (Equally puzzled.) Private secretary! I--shall we just glance +through my reply? (Reads.) "My dear Mrs. Cannot, your letter inspires +me with more confidence than any of the dozens of others I have +received." (They look at each other, smiling.) "As regards myself, I +should state at once that I am and have been for many years private +secretary, indeed I may say almost companion, to the celebrated painter. +Mr. Ilam Carve, whose magnificent pictures you are doubtless familiar +with." + +JANET. No, I'm not. + +CARVE. Really. "We have been knocking about England together for longer +than I care to remember, and I personally am anxious for a change. Our +present existence is very expensive. I feel the need of a home and the +companionship of just such a woman as yourself. Although a bachelor, I +think I am not unfitted for the domestic hearth. My age is forty." +That's a mistake of the typewriter. + +JANET. Oh! + +CARVE. Forty-five it ought to be. + +JANET. Well, honestly, I shouldn't have thought it. + +CARVE. "My age is forty-five. By a strange coincidence Mr. Carve has +suggested to me that we set out for England to-morrow. At Dover I will +telegraph you with a rendezvous. In great haste. Till then, my dear Mrs. +Cannot, believe me," etc. + +JANET. You didn't send a photograph. + +CARVE. Perhaps I was afraid of prejudicing you in advance. + +JANET. (Laughs.) Eh, Mr. Shawn! There's thousands of young gentlemen +alive and kicking in London this minute that would give a great deal to +be only half as good looking as you are. And so you're a bachelor? + +CARVE. Oh, quite. + +JANET. Two bachelors, as you say, knocking about Europe together. (CARVE +laughs quietly but heartily to himself.) By the way, how is Mr. Carve? +I hope he's better. + +CARVE. Mr. Carve?...(Suddenly stops laughing.) Oh! (Lamely, +casually.) He's dead! + +JANET. (Stocked.) Dead? When? + +CARVE. Early this morning. + +JANET. (Rising.) And us chattering away like this. Why didn't you tell +me at once, Mr. Shawn? + +CARVE. I forgot for the moment. I wasn't thinking---- + +JANET. Forgot? + +CARVE. (Simply and sincerely, but very upset.) Now, Mrs. Cannot, I +assure you I feel that man's death. I admit I had very little affection +for him--certainly not much respect--but we'd been together a long time, +and his death is a shock to me. Yes, really. But I've had to think so +much about my own case--and then a scene, a regular scene with Cyrus +Carve. And then you coming. The fact is---- + +JANET. (Sympathetically.) The fact is, you scarcely know what you're +doing, my poor Mr. Shawn. You're on wires, that's what's the matter with +you--hysteria. I know what it is as well as anybody. You'll excuse me +saying so, but you're no ordinary man. You're one of these highly-strung +people and you ought to take care of yourself. Well, I'll go now, and if +it's mutually agreeable we might perhaps meet again in a month's +time--say. + +CARVE. A month? But what am I to do with myself for a month? Do you know +you're absolutely the only friend I've got in London--in England. We're +never here. I'm an utter stranger. You can't leave me like that--for a +month--four weeks--four Sundays. I haven't the least idea what's going +to happen to me. + +JANET. The very best thing that can happen to you is bed. You go to bed +and stop there for a couple of days. There's nothing like it. + +CARVE. Yes, but where? + +JANET. Why, here of course. + +CARVE. I've got to be out of this place in half an hour, less. The fact +is, Cyrus Carve has been extremely--er--pert. He's paid me a month's +salary and I'm off at once. In under thirty minutes I shall be on the +streets. + +JANET. I never liked that man. Well, then, you must go to some nice +respectable boarding-house. + +CARVE. But I don't know any nice respectable boarding-house. + +JANET. Oh! There are thousands and thousands in London. Look in the +Telegraph. + +CARVE. I haven't had a paper to-day. + +JANET. Any day will do. They're in all the papers every day. What's +this? (Taking up folded dirty newspaper and opening it.) Now, let's +see. Well, what about this? "A beautiful private hotel of the highest +class. Luxuriously furnished. Visitors' comfort studied. Finest position +in London. Cuisine a speciality. Suitable for persons of superior rank. +Bathroom. Electric light. Separate tables. No irritating extras. Single +rooms from two and a half guineas. 250 Queen's Gate." Quite close by! +(CARVE says nothing.) Perhaps that's a bit dear. Here's another. +"Not a boarding-house. A magnificent mansion. Forty bedrooms by +Waring. Superb public saloons by Maple. Parisian chef. Separate tables. +Four bathrooms. Card-rooms. Billiard room. Vast lounge. Special +sanitation. Young, cheerful, musical society. Bridge (small). Finest +position in London. No irritating extras. Single rooms from two +guineas." What about that? + +CARVE. (Shakes his head.) I don't think I should fancy it. + +JANET. I won't say but what two guineas a week is a lot. + +CARVE. And I was thinking how cheap it was. + +JANET. (Staring.) Well, of course, if you've got money to fling +about. + +CARVE. Upon my soul I don't know what money I have got. + +JANET. It'll be just as well to find out before you get into the street. + +CARVE. Let's see. Well, there's seven pounds (showing it.) and this +(pulling silver and gold from another pocket). Not much is it? Sixteen +shillings and sixpence. It's true I've an annuity of eighty pounds. I +was forgetting that. + +JANET. (Pleased.) Have you indeed? + +CARVE. Yes. But an annuity isn't ready cash, is it? + +JANET. (Picking up Shawn's pocket-book.) And this? This seems rather +thick. + +CARVE. I was forgetting that too. (Opens it and takes out many notes.) + +JANET. My word! And you'd forgotten that! You ought to see a doctor. + +CARVE. (Counting.) Twenty-one fives, and ten tens. That makes two +hundred and five pounds. (Half to himself.) I always knew I was a bad +lot--but where did I collar all that from? (To Janet.) I know what +I shall do! I shall go to the Grand Babylon. + +JANET. The Grand Babylon Hotel? But it's the dearest hotel in London. + +CARVE. In the big towns we always went to the best hotel. It's cheapest +in the end. + +JANET. You're very persuasive, but you'll never make me believe you'll +save money by staying at the Grand Babylon. + +CARVE. (Rising and beginning to collect things--tries to fold up a pair +of trousers.) Now, Mrs. Cannot, will you do me a favour? + +JANET. You'll spoil these trousers. + +CARVE. Will you come and lunch with me at the Grand Babylon to-morrow? + +JANET. But I've never been in such a place in my life. + +CARVE. Remember. You're my only friend. Will you come and lunch with me +at the Grand Babylon to-morrow? + +JANET. (Timidly.) I should like to. (Suddenly.) Here, give me those +trousers, do! (She takes hold of one leg, CARVE retaining the +other.) + + (Enter CYRUS CARVE.) + +CYRUS. Oh! + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT II + +SCENE I + + +Private sitting-room at the Grand Babylon Hotel, Strand. Luxurious in +the hotel manner. Telephone. Door, L., leading to corridor. Door, R. +(up stage), leading to bedroom. Another door (not used) leading by a +passage to bathroom. + +TIME.--About noon on the following day. ILAM CARVE and JANET are +talking together. + +CARVE. I'm really delighted to see you. + +JANET. (Examining his features.) But surely you're not feeling very +well? + +CARVE. I'm not. Perhaps it's these sleepless nights I've had. + +JANET. You're shivering. + +CARVE. I was wearing my dressing-gown. I nearly always do when I'm +alone. Do you think you'd mind if I put it on again. + +JANET. Do you mean to say you took it off because of me? (Seizing +dressing-gown firmly.) Mr. Shawn, will you oblige me by getting-into +this at once? (She helps him on with dressing-gown.) What a beauty! + +CARVE. Yes. Cousin Cyrus thought so too. He didn't want me to bring it +away. Still, I beat him on that point. (JANET arranges the collar.) +Do you know, you do me good. + +JANET. I should think so. I suppose when gentlemen live alone they're +pretty nearly always unwell, as it were. If it isn't a cold, it's +stomach, I expect. And truly, I'm not surprised, the way they go on! +Now, will you sit down in that chair and keep your legs covered--August +or no August! If you ask me, it's influenza you're sickening for. +(Sound of distant orchestral.) Music? + +CARVE. (Nodding and sitting down in easy chair.) Well, and what's the +news from outside? I haven't stirred since yesterday noon. + +JANET. Seems to me there's no news except your Mr. Carve's death. + +CARVE. Really! Is it so much talked about as all that? + +JANET. It's on all the posters--very big. All along Piccadilly and +Trafalgar Square and the Strand the newspaper boys, and the newspaper +old men too, are wearing it like aprons, as it were. I read the +Telegraph myself. There was nearly a page of it in the Telegraph. + +CARVE. (Staggered.) Nearly a page of it in the Telegraph! + +JANET. Yes, besides a leading article. Haven't you---- + +CARVE. I never read obituaries of artists in the papers. + +JANET. Neither do I. But I should have thought you would. + +CARVE. Well, they make me angry. Obituaries of archbishops aren't so +bad. Newspapers seem to understand archbishops. But when they begin +about artists--you cannot imagine the astounding nonsense they talk. + +JANET. (Protesting against his heat.) Now! You're still all on wires. +Why should that make you angry? + +CARVE. What did the Telegraph say? Did you look at it? + +JANET. Oh yes. It appears Mr. Carve was a very eccentric +person--avoiding society and so on. + +CARVE. (Resentful.) Eccentric! There you are! He wasn't eccentric in +the least. The only society he avoided was the society of gaping fools. + +JANET. Well, I'm just telling you what it said. Then, let me see--what +else did it say? Oh! It said the sole question was whether Mr. Carve was +the greatest painter since Velasquez--is that how you pronounce it?--or +whether he was the greatest painter that ever lived. + +CARVE. (Interested.) Really! It said that? + +JANET. (Nodding.) You ought to read it. + +CARVE. Upon my soul I think I must. (Attempts to rise.) + +JANET. Now, please, don't move. What is it you want? + +CARVE. I was only going to telephone and have the daily papers sent up. + +JANET. Where is the telephone? + +CARVE. (Pointing.) There. + +JANET. So they've put a telephone in your room? + +CARVE. Telephone in every room. + +JANET. (Going to telephone.) Can I telephone for you? I never have +telephoned, and I should like to. How do you do it? + +CARVE. Just take that thing off the hook and talk into it. (JANET +gingerly obeys.) It won't explode. + +JANET. What am I to say? + +CARVE. Tell them to send me up the daily papers at once. + +JANET. All? + +CARVE. Yes. + +JANET. But will they? + +CARVE. Certainly. + +JANET. (Into telephone.) Please will you send up all the daily papers +at once. + +CARVE. Thanks very much. Now you can hang it up again. + +JANET. So this is the Grand Babylon Hotel? Well it's a queer place. +(Her eyes rove round the room.) + +CARVE. What are you looking for? + +JANET. To speak plainly, I was looking for the bed. I must say I was +rather surprised when the young man at the desk said I was to go up to +your room.... But really, every thing's so nicely arranged.... I suppose +it's one of those folding beds that turn into bookcases and things? + +CARVE. (Laughs.) No. This is my sitting-room. + +JANET. Your sitting-room? (Pointing to door, R.) Then that's the +bedroom? + +CARVE. Yes. + +JANET. (Pointing to another door.) And what's that? + +CARVE. That's one way to my bathroom. In a big hotel I always take a +suite, you know. It's so much more comfortable. + +JANET. Isn't it rather expensive? + +CARVE. To tell you the truth, I didn't ask the price. + + (Knock at door.) + +JANET. (Charmingly tart.) I suppose it's what you call "cheapest in +the end." CARVE. Come in. + + (Enter PAGE with a pile of papers.) + +CARVE. Thanks! Give them to me. + + (Exit PAGE.) + +JANET. Well, I never! It's like magic. + +CARVE. Now let's just glance at these chaps. (Unfolding a paper.) + +JANET. Shall I help you? + +CARVE. Why? Here's black borders and a heading across two columns! +"Death of England's greatest painter," "Irreparable loss to the world's +art," "Our readers will be shocked----" Are they all like that? (More +and more astonished; takes another paper.) "Sad death of a great +genius." + +JANET. (Handing him still another paper.) And this. + +CARVE. "London's grief." "The news will come as a personal blow to every +lover of great painting." But--but--I'd no notion of this. (Half to +himself.) It's terrible. + +JANET. Well, perhaps always living with him you wouldn't realize how +important he was, would you? (Distant music begins again, a waltz +tune.) + +CARVE. (Reading.) "Although possibly something of a poseur in his +choice of subjects...." The fellow's a fool. Poseur indeed! + +JANET. Look at this. "Europe in mourning." + +CARVE. Well--well. + +JANET. What is that music? + +CARVE. London's grief. It's the luncheon orchestra downstairs. + + (Telephone bell rings.) + +CARVE. Never mind it. Let 'em ring. I understand now why journalists and +so on have been trying all day to see me. Honestly I'm--I'm staggered. + + (Telephone bell continues to ring.) + +JANET. It's a funny notion of comfort having a telephone in every room. +How long will it keep on like that? + +CARVE. I'll stop it. (Rising.) + +JANET. No, no. (Going to telephone and taking receiver.) Yes? What's +the matter? (Listens. To CARVE.) Oh, what do you think? Father Looe +and his sister, Miss Honoria Looe, want to see you. + +CARVE. Father Looe? Never heard of him. + +JANET. Oh, but you must have heard of him. He's the celebrated Roman +Catholic preacher. He's a beautiful man. I heard him preach once on the +Sins of Society. + +CARVE. Would you mind saying I'm not at home? + +JANET. (Obviously disappointed.) Then won't you see him? + +CARVE. Did you want to see him? + +JANET. I should like just to have had a look at him close to, as it +were. + +CARVE. (Gallantly.) Then you shall. Tell them to send him up, will +you? + +JANET. And am I to stay here? + +CARVE. Of course. + +JANET. Well, if anybody had told me this time last week----(Into +telephone.) Please ask them to come up. + +CARVE. Perhaps with your being here I shan't be quite so shy. + +JANET. Shy! Are you shy? It said in the Telegraph that Mr. Carve was +painfully shy. + +CARVE. (Protesting.) Painfully! Who told them that, I should like to +know? + +JANET. Now shyness is a thing I simply can't understand. I'm never shy. +And you don't strike me as shy--far from it. + +CARVE. It's very curious. I haven't felt a bit shy with you. + +JANET. Nobody ever is shy with me.... (Ironically.) I must say I'd +give something to see you shy. + + (Enter FATHER LOOE and HONORIA LOOE, announced by PAGE.) + LOOE. (Stopping near door, at a loss.) Pardon me--Mr. Shawn--Mr. +Albert Shawn? + +CARVE. (Rising, perturbed.) Yes. + +LOOE. This is your room? + +CARVE. Yes. + +LOOE. I'm afraid there's some mistake. I was given to understand that +you were the--er--valet of the late Mr. Ilam Carve. + +HONORIA. Yes. Mr. Cyrus Carve told us---- + +JANET. (Coming to CARVE'S rescue as he remains speechless, very +calmly.) Now there's another trick of Mr. Cyrus Carve's! Valet indeed! +Mr. Shawn was Mr. Carve's secretary--and almost companion. + +LOOE. Ten thousand apologies. Ten thousand apologies. I felt sure---- + +CARVE. Please sit down. (With special gallantry towards HONORIA.) + +JANET. And will you sit down too, Mr. Shawn? (To the LOOES.) He's not +at all well. That's why he's wearing his dressing-gown. + +CARVE. (Introducing.) My friend, Mrs. Janet Cannot. + +LOOE. Now, Mr. Shawn, if you knew anything about me, if you have heard +me preach, if you have read any of my books, you are probably aware that +I am a man who goes straight to the point, hating subtleties. In +connection with your late employer's death a great responsibility is +laid upon me, and I have come to you for information--information which +I have failed to obtain either from Mr. Cyrus Carve, or the doctor, or +the nurse.... Was Mr. Carve a Catholic? + +CARVE. A Catholic? + +LOOE. He came of a Catholic family did he not? + +CARVE. Yes--I believe so. + +LOOE. The cousin, Mr. Cyrus Carve, I regret to say, denies the faith of +his childhood--denies it, I also regret to say, with a vivacity that +amounts almost to bad manners. In fact, he was extremely rude to me when +I tried to give him some idea of the tremendous revival of Catholicism +which is the outstanding feature of intellectual life in England to-day. + +CARVE. Ilam Carve was not a Catholic. + +LOOE. Mind, I do not ask if he died in the consolations of the faith. I +know that he did not. I have learnt that it occurred to neither you nor +the doctor nor the nurse to send for a priest. Strange omission. But not +the fault of the dying man. + +CARVE. Ilam Carve was not a Catholic. + +LOOE. Then what was he? + +CARVE. Nothing in particular. + +LOOE. Then I claim him. Then I claim him.... Honoria! + +CARVE. (In a new tone..) Look here--what's all this about? + +LOOE. (Rising.) I will tell you at once what it is about, Mr. Shawn. +There is a question of Ilam Carve being buried in Westminster Abbey. + +CARVE. (Thunderstruck.) Buried in Westminster Abbey? + +LOOK. Lady Leonard Alcar has consulted me about the matter. I may say +that I have the honour to be her spiritual director. Probably you know +that Lord Leonard Alcar owns the finest collection of Ilam Carve's +pictures in Europe. + +JANET. I've often wondered who it is that settles whether people shall +be buried in the Abbey or not. So it's Lady Leonard Alcar! + +LOOE. Not exactly! Not exactly! But Lady Leonard Alcar is a great lady. +She has vast influence. The most influential convert to Catholicism of +the last thirty years. She is aunt to no less than four dukes, and Lord +Leonard is uncle to two others. + +CARVE. (Ironically.) I quite see. + +LOOE. (Eagerly.) You see--don't you? Her advice on these matters +carries enormous weight. A suggestion from her amounts to--to-- + +CARVE. A decree absolute. + +JANET. (Simply.) Is she what they call the ruling classes? + +LOOE. (Bows.) Lady Leonard and I have talked the matter over, and I +pointed out to her that if this great genius was a member of the Church +of England and if the sorrowing nation at large deems him worthy of the +supreme honour of a national funeral, then by all means let him be +buried in the Abbey. But if he was a Catholic, then I claim him for +Westminster Cathedral, that magnificent fane which we have raised as a +symbol of our renewed vitality. Now, was he a member of the Church of +England? + +CARVE. (Loudly.) Decidedly not. + +LOOE. Good! Then I claim him. I detest casuistry and I claim him. I have +only one other question. You knew him well--intimately--for many years. +On your conscience, Mr. Shawn, what interment in your opinion would he +himself have preferred? + +JANET. (After a pause.) It wouldn't make much difference to him either +way, would it? + +CARVE. (With an outburst.) The whole thing is preposterous. + +LOOE. (Ignoring the outburst.) My course seems quite clear. I shall +advise Lady Leonard-- + +CARVE. Don't you think you're rather young to be in sole charge of this +country? + +LOOE. (Smoothly.) My dear sir, I am nothing but a humble priest who +gives counsel when counsel is sought. And I may say that in this affair +of the interment of our great national painter, there are other +influences than mine. For instance, my sister, Honoria, who happens also +to be president of the Ladies' Water Colour Society--(gesture of alarm +from CARVE)--my sister has a great responsibility. She is the favourite +niece of--(Whispers in CARVE'S ear.) Consequently--(Makes an +impressive pause.) + +HONORIA. You see my uncle is a bachelor and I keep house for him. Anselm +used to live with us too, until he left the Church. + +LOOE. Until I joined the Church, Honoria. Now Honoria wishes to be +perfectly fair; she entirely realizes her responsibility; and that is +why she has come with me to see you. + +JANET. (Benignantly.) So that's how these things are decided! I see +I'd got quite a wrong notion of politics and so on. + +HONORIA. Oh, Mr. Shawn-- } + and } (Together.) +JANET. My idea was-- } + +JANET. I beg your pardon. + +HONORIA. I beg yours. + +JANET. Granted. + +HONORIA. There's one question I should so like to ask you, Mr. Shawn. In +watercolours did Mr. Carve use Chinese white freely or did he stick to +transparent colour, like the old English school? I wonder if you +understand me? + +CARVE. (Interested.) He used Chinese white like anything. + +HONORIA. Oh! I'm so glad. You remember that charming water-colour of the +Venetian gondolier in the Luxembourg. We had a great argument after we +got home last Easter as to whether the oar was put in with Chinese +white--or just 'left out,' you know! + +CARVE. Chinese white, of course. My notion is that it doesn't matter a +fig how you get effects so long as you do get them. + +HONORIA. And that was his notion too? (Telephone bell rings, JANET +answers it.) + +CARVE. His? Rather. You bet it was. + +HONORIA. I'm so glad. I'm so glad. I knew I was right about Chinese +white. Oh, Anselm, do let him be buried in the Abbey! Do let me suggest +to uncle---- + +LOOE. My dear girl, ask your conscience. Enthusiasm for art I can +comprehend; I can even sympathize with it. But if this grave national +question is to be decided by considerations of Chinese white---- + + (CARVE turns to JANET as if for succour.) + +JANET. (Calmly.) The doctor is just coming up. + +CARVE. The doctor? What doctor? + +JANET. A Dr. Horning. He says he's Dr. Pascoe's assistant and he +attended Mr. Carve, and he wants to see you. + +CARVE. But I don't want to see him. + +JANET. You'll have to see a doctor. + +CARVE. Why? + +JANET. Because you're ill. So you may just as well see this one as +another. They're all pretty much of a muchness. + + (Enter PETER HORNING boisterously. A PAGE BOY opens the door + but does not announce him.) + +PETER. (Perceiving LOOE first.) Ah, Father! You here? How d'ye do? +What did you think of my special on last Sunday's sermon? (Shakes hands +with LOOE and bows to MISS LOOE as to an acquaintance.) + +LOOE. Very good. Very good. + +PETER. (Advancing to CARVE.) Mr. Shawn, I presume? + +CARVE. (Glancing helplessly at JANET.) But this isn't the doctor? + +PETER. (Volubly.) Admitted! Admitted! I'm only his brother--a +journalist. I'm on the Courier and the Mercury and several other +Worgan papers. One of our chaps failed to get into this room this +morning, so I came along to try what I could do. You see what I've +done. + +JANET. Well, I never came across such a set of people in my life. + +PETER. (Aside to LOOE.) Is he in service here, or what? + +LOOE. Mr. Shawn was Mr. Carve's secretary and companion, not his valet. + +PETER. (Puzzled, but accepting the situation.) Ah! So much the better. +Now, Mr. Shawn, can you tell me authoritatively whether shortly before +his death Mr. Carve was engaged to be married under romantic +circumstances to a lady of high rank? + +HONORIA. Indeed! + +CARVE. Who told you that? + +PETER. Then he was! + +CARVE. I've nothing to say. + +PETER. You won't tell me her name? + +CARVE. I've nothing to say. + +PETER. Secondly, I'm instructed to offer something considerable for your +signature to an account of Ilam Carve's eccentric life on the Continent. + +CARVE. Eccentric life on the Continent! + +PETER. I shouldn't keep you half an hour--three quarters at most. A +hundred pounds. Cash down, you know. Bank notes. All you have to do is +to sign. + +CARVE. (To Janet, exhausted, but disdainful.) I wouldn't mind signing +an order for the fellow's execution. + +PETER. A hundred and fifty! + +CARVE. Or burning at the stake. + +PETER. (To LOOE.) What does he say? + +LOOE. Mr. Shawn is indisposed. We've just been discussing the question +of the burial in the Abbey. I think I may say, if it interests you as an +item of news, that Ilam Carve will not be buried in the Abbey. + +PETER. (Lightly.) Oh yes he will, Father. There was a little doubt +about it until we got particulars of his will this morning. But his will +settled it. + +LOOE. His will? + +PETER. Yes. Didn't you know? No, you wouldn't. Well, his estate will +come out at about a couple of hundred thousand, and he's left it +practically all for an International Gallery of Modern Art in London. +Very ingenious plan. None of your Chantrey Bequest business. Three +pictures and one piece of sculpture are to be bought each year in +London. Fixed price £400 each, large or small. Trustees are to be +business men--bank directors. But they can't choose the works. The works +are to be chosen by the students at South Kensington and the Academy +Schools. Works by R.A.'s and A.R.A.'s are absolutely barred. Works by +students themselves absolutely barred, too. Cute that, eh? That's the +arrangement for England. Similar arrangement for France, Italy, and +Germany. He gives the thing a start by making it a present of his own +collection--stored somewhere in Paris. I don't mean his own +paintings--he bars those. Unusually modest, eh? + +HONORIA. How perfectly splendid! We shall have a real live gallery at +last. Surely Anselm, after that-- + +LOOE. Quite beside the point. I shall certainly oppose. + +PETER. Oppose what? + +LOOE. The burial in the Abbey. I shall advise Lady Leonard Alcar-- + +PETER. No use, Father. Take my word. The governor's made up his mind. +He's been fearfully keen on art lately. I don't know why. We were in +front of everybody else with the news of Ilam Carve's death, and the +governor's making a regular pet of him. He says it's quite time we +buried an artist in Westminster Abbey, and he's given instructions to +the whole team. Didn't you see the Mercury this morning? Anybody who +opposes a national funeral for Ilam Carve will be up against the +governor. Of course, I tell you that as a friend--confidentially. + +LOOE. (Shaken.) Well, I shall see what Lady Leonard says. + +CARVE. (Rising in an angry, scornful outburst.) You'd bury him in +Westminster Abbey because he's a philanthropist, not because he's an +artist. That's England all over.... Well, I'm hanged if I'll have it. + +LOOE. But, my dear sir---- + +CARVE. And I tell you another thing--he's not dead. + +PETER. Not dead--what next? + +CARVE. I am Ilam Carve. + +HONORIA. (Soothingly.) Poor dear! He's not himself. + +CARVE. That's just what I am. (Sinks back exhausted.) + +PETER. (Aside to LOOE.) Is he mad, Father? Nothing but a clerk after +all. And yet he takes a private room at the Grand Babylon, and then he +refuses a hundred and fifty of the best and goes on like this. And now, +blessed if he isn't Ilam Carve! (Laughs.) + +LOOE. I really think we ought to leave. + +HONORIA. (To JANET.) He's a little unhinged! But how charming he is. + +JANET. (Prudently resenting HONORIA'S interest in CARVE.) Yes, he's +a little unhinged. And who wouldn't be? + +PETER. Got 'em--if you ask me! (Moving to leave.) + +LOOE. (Moving to leave.) Honoria. + +JANET. (Very soothingly and humouringly to CARVE.) So this is what you +call being shy! + +CARVE. (To JANET, who is now bending over him.) It must be stopped. + +JANET. (As the others go out; humouring him.) Yes, yes! (Absently in +reply to bows and adieux of LOOE, HONORIA, and PETER HORNING.) Good +morning! (When they are gone, with a sigh of relief.) Well, it is a +mighty queer place! My word, how cold your hands are! (Going quickly to +telephone and speaking into telephone.) Please send up two hot-water +bottles at once. Yes, hot-water bottles. Never heard of a hot-water +bottle before? + + The Stage is darkened for a few moments to indicate the passage of + time. + + + + +SCENE 2 + + +TIME.--Afternoon, four days later. + + JANET is dozing in an easy-chair. Enter CARVE in his + dressing-gown. + +JANET. (Starting up.) Mr. Shawn, what are you doing out of bed? After +such a dose of flu as you've had! + +CARVE. I'm doing nothing out of bed. (Twiddles his thumbs.) + +JANET. But you've no right to be out of bed at all. + +CARVE. I was afraid I hadn't. But I called and called, and there was no +answer. So then I began to argue the point. Why not get up? I'd had a +tremendous long sleep. I felt singularly powerful. And I thought you'd +gone home. + +JANET. Nay--that you never did! + +CARVE. I did, honestly. + +JANET. Do you mean to say you thought for a single moment I should go +home and leave you like that? + +CARVE. Yes. But of course I thought you might be coming back sooner or +later. + +JANET. Well I never! + +CARVE. You've scarcely left me for three days and three nights, Mrs. +Cannot, so far as I remember. Surely it was natural for me to suppose +that you'd gone home to your own affairs. + +JANET. (Sarcastically.) It didn't occur to you I might have dropped +off to sleep? + +CARVE. Now, don't be angry. I'm only convalescent. + +JANET. Will you kindly march right back to bed this instant? + +CARVE. No, I'm dashed if I do! + +JANET. I beg pardon. + +CARVE. I say, I'm dashed if I do! I won't stir until I've thanked you. +I've been ill I don't know how many times; but this is the first time in +my life I've ever enjoyed being ill. D'you know (with an ingenuous +smile.) I'd really no idea what nursing was. + +JANET. (Drily.) Hadn't you? Well, if you call that nursing, I don't. +But it was the best I could do in this barracks, with the kitchen a mile +and a half off, and a pack of men that can't understand English gaping +at you all day in evening-dress. I dare say this is a very good hotel +for reading newspapers in. But if you want anything that isn't on the +menu, it's as bad as drawing money out of the post office savings bank. +You should see me nurse in my own house. + +CARVE. I should like to. Even in this barracks (imitating her.) you've +quite altered my views of life. + +JANET. Yes, and they wanted altering. When I think of you and that other +poor fellow wandering about all alone on that Continent--without the +slightest notion of what comfort is.... Well, I'll say this--it's a +pleasure to nurse you. Now, will you go back to bed? + +CARVE. I suppose coffee's on the menu? + +JANET. Coffee? + +CARVE. I think I should like some café au lait, and a roll. + +JANET. (Rising.) You can have hot milk if you like. + +CARVE. All right. And then when I've had it I'll go to bed. + +JANET. (At telephone.) Are you there? + +CARVE. (Picking up a sheet of paper from table.) Hello! What's this? +Hotel bill-receipted? + +JANET. I should think so indeed! They sent it up the second day. (Into +telephone.) Hot milk, please, and let it be hot! (Hanging up +telephone. To CARVE.) I expect they were afraid for their money. + +CARVE. And you paid it? + +JANET. I took the money out of your pockets and I just paid it. I never +said a word. But if you hadn't been ill I should have said something. Of +all the swindles, of all the barefaced swindles!... Do you see what it's +costing you to live here--a day? + +CARVE. Oh, not much above four pounds, I hope. + +JANET. (Speechless at first.) Any woman that knew her business could +keep you for a month--a month--for less than you spend here in a +day--and better. And better! Look here: "Biscuits, 1s. 6d.!" + +CARVE. Well? + +JANET. Well (confidentially earnest.), will you believe me when I tell +you there wasn't a pennyworth of biscuits on that plate? Do you think I +don't know what biscuits are a pound? + +CARVE. Really! + +JANET. (Ironically.) "Cheapest in the end"--but I should say the end's +a long way off. + +CARVE. (Who has picked up another paper, on mantelpiece.) What? "Admit +Mr. Albert Shawn to Westminster Abbey, cloisters entrance.... +Funeral.... Tuesday."... That's to-day, isn't it? + +JANET. Yes. + +CARVE. (Moved.) But you told me he wasn't going to be buried in +Westminster Abbey. + +JANET. I know. + +CARVE. You told me Cyrus Carve had insisted on cremation. + +JANET. (With vivacity.) And what did you expect me to tell you? I had +to soothe you somehow; you were just about delirious. I was afraid if I +told you the truth you'd be doing something silly--seeing the state you +were in. Then it struck me a nice plain cremation at Woking was the very +thing to keep you quiet. + +CARVE. (Still more moved.) Then he's.... Westminster Abbey! + +JANET. Yes, I should say all is over by this time. There were thousands +of people for the lying-in-state, it seems. + +CARVE. But it's awful. Absolutely awful. + +JANET. Why is it awful? + +CARVE. I told you--I explained the whole thing to you. + +JANET. (Humouring, remonstrating.) Mr. Shawn, surely you've got rid of +that idea! You aren't delirious now. You said you were convalescent, you +know. + +CARVE. There'll be a perfect Hades of a row. I must write to the Dean at +once. I must---- + +JANET. (Soothingly.) I shouldn't if I were you. Why not let things be? +No one would believe that tale---- + +CARVE. Do you believe it? + +JANET. (Perfunctorily.) Oh yes. + +CARVE. No, you don't. Honestly, do you now? + +JANET. Well----(Knock at door.) Come in. (Enter WAITER with hot +milk.) Here's your hot milk. + +WAITER. Miss Looe has called. + +CARVE. I must see her. + +JANET. But---- + +CARVE. I must see her. + +JANET. Oh, very well. (Exit WAITER.) She's telephoned each day to +inquire how you were. She asked if you wanted a seat for the funeral. I +told her you couldn't possibly go, but I was sure you'd like to be +invited--whether it was the Abbey or not. Please don't forget your milk. + + (Enter HONORIA LOOE in mourning, introduced by WAITER.) + +HONORIA. (Coming in quickly, bowing to JANET and shaking hands with +CARVE.) Good afternoon. Please don't rise. I've heard how ill you've +been. I've only called because I simply had to. + +CARVE. It's very kind of you. + +HONORIA. Oh, Mr. Shawn, I know you didn't want him to be buried in the +Abbey. I'm all for quiet funerals, too; but really this was an +exceptional case, and I think if you'd seen it you'd have been glad they +did decide on the Abbey. Oh, you've no idea how impressive it was! The +Abbey is always so fine, isn't it? And it was crammed. You never saw +such a multitude of distinguished people. I mean really +distinguished--all in black, except, of course, the uniforms. Royalties, +ambassadors, representatives from all the academies all over Europe. +Rodin was there!! The whole of artistic London came. I don't mean only +painters, but poets, novelists, sculptors, and musicians. The art +students had a corner to themselves. And you should have seen the crowds +outside. All traffic was stopped up as far as Trafalgar Square. I've had +some difficulty in getting here. The sun was shining through the stained +glass. And the music was magnificent. And then when the coffin was +carried down the nave--well, there was only one wreath on the pall--just +one--a white crown. All the other wreaths were piled near the +screen--scores and scores of them--the effect was tremendous. I nearly +cried. A lot of people did cry. (Genuinely moved.) There was that +great genius lying there. He'd never done anything except put paint on +canvas, and yet--and yet.... Well, it made you feel somehow that England +does care for art after all. + +CARVE. (After a pause.) And whom have we to thank for this beautiful +national manifestation of sympathy with art? + +HONORIA. How do you mean? + +CARVE. (With an attempt at cold irony, but yet in a voice imperfectly +controlled.) Did your brother relent and graciously permit Lady Leonard +Alcar to encourage a national funeral? Or was it due solely to the +influence of the newspapers written by people of refined culture like +the man who gave his opinion the other day that I had got 'em? Or +perhaps you yourself settled it with your esteemed uncle over a cup of +tea? + +HONORIA. Of course, Mr. Shawn, any one can see that you're artistic +yourself, and artists are generally very sarcastic about the British +public. I know I am.... Now, don't you paint? + +CARVE. (Shrugging his shoulders.) I used to--a little. + +HONORIA. I was sure of it. Well, you can be as sarcastic as you like, +but do you know what I was thinking during the service? I was thinking +if only he could have seen it--if only Ilam Carve could have seen +it--instead of lying cold in that coffin under that wreath, +he'd--(Hesitating.) + +CARVE. (Interrupting her, in a different, resolved tone.) Miss Looe, I +suppose you're on very confidential terms with your uncle. + +HONORIA. Naturally. Why? + +CARVE. Will you give him a message from me. He'll do perhaps better than +anybody. + +HONORIA. With pleasure. + +CARVE. (Moved.) It is something important--very important indeed. In +fact-- + + (JANET goes into bedroom, but keeping near the doorway does not + actually disappear.) + +HONORIA. (Soothingly, and a little frightened.) Now, please, Mr. +Shawn! Please don't frighten us as you did the other day. Please do try +and keep calm! + +CARVE. I--(He suddenly stands up and then falls back again into +chair.) + + (JANET returns quickly to the room) + +HONORIA. (Alarmed, to JANET.) I'm afraid he isn't quite well yet. + +CARVE. No, I can't tell you. At least, not now. Thanks very much for +calling. (Rises brusquely and walks towards the bedroom door.) + +JANET. (To HONORIA.) He's not really strong enough to see visitors. + +HONORIA. (Going to door and trying to be confidential.) What is it? + +JANET. (With tranquillity.) Oh, influenza. Sometimes it takes 'em in +the head and sometimes in the stomach. It's taken him in the head. + +HONORIA. Charming man! I don't suppose there's the least likelihood of +it--he's evidently very well off--but if he should be wanting a +situation similar to his last, I'm sure my uncle---- + +JANET. (Positively and curtly.) I don't think so. + +HONORIA. Of course you know him very well? + +JANET. Well, it's like this. I'm his cousin. We aren't exactly engaged +to be married---- + +HONORIA. (In a changed tone.) Oh, I see! Good afternoon. + +JANET. Good afternoon. + + (Exit HONORIA.) + +CARVE. (Who has hesitatingly wandered back towards centre; in a quite +different tone now that he is alone again with JANET.) What's this +about being engaged to be married? + +JANET. (Smiling.) I was telling her we weren't engaged to be married. +That's true, I suppose? + +CARVE. But are we cousins? + +JANET. Yes. I've got my reputation to think about. I don't want to +coddle it, but there's no harm in just keeping an eye on it. + +CARVE. I see. (Sits down.) + +JANET. If nothing comes of all this-- + +CARVE. All what? + +JANET. All this illness and nursing and sitting up at nights,--then I'm +just your cousin, and no harm done. + +CARVE. But do you mean to say you'd-- + +JANET. (Stopping-him.) Not so fast! (Pause. She continues +reflectively.) Do you know what struck me while her ladyship was +telling you about all the grand doings at the funeral--What good has it +ever done him to be celebrated and make a big splash in the world? Was +he any happier for it? From all I can hear he was always trying to hide +just as if the police were after him. He never had the slightest notion +of comfort, and so you needn't tell me! And there's another thing--you +needn't tell me he wasn't always worrying about some girl or other, +because I know he was. A bachelor at his age never thinks about anything +else--morning, noon, and night. It stands to reason--and they can say +what they like--I know. And now he's dead--probably because he'd no +notion of looking after himself, and it's been in all the papers how +wonderful he was, and florists' girls have very likely sat up half the +night making wreaths, and Westminster Abbey was crowded out with +fashionable folk--and do you know what all those fashionable folk are +thinking about just now--tea! And if it isn't tea, it's whisky and soda. + +CARVE. But you mustn't forget that he was really very successful +indeed.... Just look at the money he made, for instance. + +JANET. Well, if sovereigns had been any use to him he'd never have left +two hundred thousand of them behind him--him with no family. No, he was +no better than a fool with money. Couldn't even spend it. + +CARVE. He had the supreme satisfaction of doing what he enjoyed doing +better than anybody else could do it. + +JANET. And what was that? + +CARVE. Painting. + +JANET. (Casually.) Oh! and couldn't he have had that without running +about all over Europe? He might just as well have been a commercial +traveller. Take my word for it, Mr. Shawn, there's nothing like a +comfortable home and a quiet life--and the less you're in the newspapers +the better. + +CARVE. (Thoughtfully.) Do you know--a good deal of what you say +applies to me. + +JANET. And you now! As we're on the subject--before we go any +further--you're a bachelor of forty-five, same as him. What have you +been doing with yourself lately? + +CARVE. Doing with myself? + +JANET. Well, I think I ought to ask because when I was stealing (with a +little nervous laugh) the money out of your pocket to pay that hotel +bill, I came across a lady's photograph. I couldn't help coming across +it. Seeing how things are, I think I ought to ask. + +CARVE. Oh, that! It must be a photograph of the lady he was engaged +to. He broke it off, you know. That was why we came to London in such a +hurry. + +JANET. Then it is true--what the newspaper reporter said? (CARVE +nods.) One of the aristocracy--(CARVE nods.) Who was she? + +CARVE. Lady Alice Rowfant. + +JANET. What was it doing in your pocket? + +CARVE. I don't know. Everything got mixed up. Clothes, papers, +everything. + +JANET. Sure? + +CARVE. Of course! Look here, do you suppose Lady Alice Rowfant is +anything to me? + +JANET. She isn't? + +CARVE. No. + +JANET. Honestly? (Looking at him closely.) + +CARVE. Honestly. + +JANET. (With obvious relief.) Well, that's all right then! Now will +you drink this milk, please. + +CARVE. I just wanted to tell you---- + +JANET. Will you drink this milk? (Pours out a glassful for him.) + + (CARVE addresses himself to the milk.) + + (JANET begins to put on her things.) + +CARVE. But I say, what are you doing? + +JANET. I'm going home. + +CARVE. What? Now? + +JANET. At once. + +CARVE. But you can't leave me like this. I'm very ill. + +JANET. Oh no, you aren't. You're very much better. Anyone can see that. +All you've got to do is to return to bed and stick to slops. + +CARVE. And when shall you come back? + +JANET. You might come down to see me one day at Putney. + +CARVE. I shall be delighted to. But before that, won't you come here? + +JANET. (After a pause.) I'll try and come the day after to-morrow. + +CARVE. Why not to-morrow? + +JANET. Well, a couple of days without me'll do you no harm. It's a +mistake to be in a hurry when you've got all your life in front of you. + +CARVE. (After a pause.) Listen--have some tea before you go. + +JANET. No. (Holds out her hand, smiling.) Good afternoon. Now do go to +bed. + +CARVE. I haven't begun to thank you. + +JANET. No--and I hope you won't begin. + +CARVE. You're so sudden. + +JANET. It's sudden or nothing. + +CARVE. (Holding her hand.) I say--what can you see in me? + +JANET. Well, if it comes to that--what can you see in me? (Withdrawing +her hand.) + +CARVE. I--I don't know what it is.... Something.... (Lightly.) I +dunno! Everything! + +JANET. That's too much. Good-bye! I'll come about this time the day +after to-morrow. + +CARVE. Supposing I have a relapse? + +JANET. (At door.) You won't if you do as I tell you. + +CARVE. But supposing I do? + +JANET. Well, you can always telegraph, can't you? + + (Exit.) + + (CARVE, after finishing milk, suddenly gets up and searches on + writing table: he then goes to the telephone.) + +CARVE. (Into telephone.) Please send me up a telegraph form. + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III + +SCENE I + + +Parlour in Janet's house in Putney. A perfectly ordinary suburban +interior of a small house; but comfortable. Table in centre. Door, R., +up stage, leading to hall. Door, L., down stage, leading to kitchen +and back premises. + +TIME.--Morning in early autumn. Rather more than two years have +elapsed. + + Discovered--CARVE reading newspaper at breakfast-table. JANET + in an apron is hovering busily near him. + +JANET. (Putting cigarettes and matches down beside CARVE.) Want +anything else, dear? (No answer from CARVE.) Because I must set about +my morning's work. (CARVE continues to read.) Albert, are you sure you +don't want anything else? + + (As he still gives her no sign of attention, she snatches the + paper away from him, and throws it on the floor.) + +CARVE. (Not having moved his eyes.) The pattern of this jug is really +not so bad.... Yes, my soul? + +JANET. I've asked you I don't know how many times whether you want +anything else, because I must set about my morning's work. + +CARVE. Is there any more coffee? + +JANET. Yes, plenty. + +CARVE. Hot? + +JANET. Yes. + +CARVE. Then I don't want any. Got any bacon? + +JANET. No, but I can cook a slice in a minute. + +CARVE. (With an affectation of martyrdom.) Doesn't matter. + +JANET. Oh yes, I will. (Moving away.) + +CARVE. (Drawing her to him by her apron.) Can't you see he's teasing +you? + +JANET. She's got no time in the morning for being teased. + +(She takes a cigarette, lights it and immediately puts it in his +mouth.) + +CARVE. And now you're going to leave me? + +JANET. Sure you're all right? (He nods.) Quite sure you're happy? + +CARVE. Jane-- + +JANET. I wish you wouldn't call me Jane. + +CARVE. But I will call you Jane. Jane, why do you ask me if I'm sure I'm +happy? When a man has first-class food and first-class love, together +with a genuine French bed, really waterproof boots, a constant supply of +hot water in the bathroom, enough money to buy cigarettes and sixpenny +editions, the freedom to do what he likes all day and every +day--and--let me see, what else--a complete absence of domestic +servants--then either that man is happy or he is a silly cuckoo! + +JANET. You aren't getting tired-- + +CARVE. My sweet child, what's the matter with you? + +JANET. Nothing, nothing. Only to-day's the second anniversary of our +wedding--and you've--you've said nothing about it. + +CARVE. (After a shocked paused.) And I forgot it last year, didn't I? +I shall be forgetting my dinner next. + +JANET. Oh no, you won't! + +CARVE. And yet all last week I was thinking about this most important +day, and telling myself I must remember it. + +JANET. Very easy to say that. But how can you prove it? + +CARVE. Well, it does just happen that the proof is behind the sideboard. + + +JANET. A present? + +CARVE. A present. It was all ready and waiting five days ago. + +JANET. (Drawing a framed picture from behind the sideboard, and trying +to hide her disappointment, but not quite succeeding.) Oh! A picture! +Who is it? (Examines it with her nose close to it.) + +CARVE. No, no. You can't take a picture like snuff! Get away from it. +(He jumps up, snatches the picture from her, and exposes it on a chair +at the other side of the room.) Now! (He sits down again.) + +JANET. Yes, it doesn't look quite so queer like that. Those are my +cooking sleeves, and that seems a bit like my kitchen--that's my best +copper pan! Is the young woman meant to be me? + +CARVE. Well, not to beat about the bush, yes. + +JANET. I don't consider it very flattering. + +CARVE. How many times have you told me you hate flattery? + +JANET. (Running to him.) Now he's hurt. Oh, he's hurt. (Kissing +him.) It's a beautiful picture, and the frame's lovely! And she's so +glad he didn't forget. + +CARVE. It is pretty good. In fact it's devilish good. It's one of the +best things I ever did in my life. Old Carve would have got eight +hundred for that like a shot. + +JANET. (Sceptically.) Would he? It's wonderful how wonderful people +are when they're dead. + +CARVE. And now will she let him finish reading his paper? + +JANET. (Handing him the paper, then putting her head close to his and +looking at the paper.) What was it he was reading that made him so deaf +he couldn't hear his wife when she spoke to him? + +CARVE. This. + +JANET. (Reading.) "Ilam Carve's princely bequest. The International +Gallery of Art. Foundation stone laying. Eloquent speech by Lord +Rosebery." Oh! So they've begun it at last? + +CARVE. Yes, they've begun it at last. + +JANET. Well, if you ask me, I should have thought he could have found +something better to do with his money. + +CARVE. As for example? + +JANET. Well, I should have thought there were more than enough picture +galleries as it is. Who wants 'em? Even when they're free, people won't +go into them unless it's a wet day. I've never been in a free picture +gallery yet that wasn't as empty as a church. Stands to reason! It isn't +even a cinematograph. When I see rows of people in Trafalgar Square +waiting to get into the National Gallery, then I shall begin to think +it's about time we had some more galleries. If I'd been Ilam Carve---- + +CARVE. Well, what should you have done, witch? + +JANET. I should have left a bit more to you, for one thing. + +CARVE. I don't want more. If he'd left me eight hundred a year instead +of eighty, I shouldn't be any happier. That's just what I've learnt +since I took lodgings in your delightful wigwam, Jane--money and fame +have no connection whatever with happiness. + +JANET. Money has, when you haven't got enough. + +CARVE. But I have. You won't hear of me paying more than half the +household expenses, and you say they're never more than thirty shillings +a week. Half thirty--fifteen. Look at the balance it leaves me. + +JANET. And supposing I had to ask you to pay more? + +CARVE. (In a serious sympathetic tone, startled.) Anything wrong? + +JANET. Well, there's nothing wrong, as it were--yet---- + +CARVE. Jane, I do believe you've been hiding something from me. + +JANET. (With difficulty pulls a letter from her pocket.) No-- + +CARVE. I've felt it for several days. + +JANET. You just haven't then. Because I only got it this morning. Here, +you may as well read it. (Handing him the letter.) It's about the +brewery. + +CARVE. (Reading.) "Mrs. Albert Shawn. Sir or Madam."--Why are +shareholders never supposed to have any particular sex?--"Sir or Madam. +Cohoon's Brewery, Ltd.,--I am directed by the shareholders' provisional +committee of investigation to request your attendance at an informal +meeting of shareholders to be held in room 2009 Winchester House on +Friday the 20th inst. at noon. If you cannot be present, will you kindly +write stating whether or not you will be prepared to support the +committee of investigation at the annual meeting. In view of the +probability that the directors' report will be unfavourable, and the +ordinary dividend either passed or much reduced, the committee wishes to +be thoroughly prepared and armed. Believe me, Sir or Madam." Oh! So +that's it, is it? + +JANET. Yes. My father said to me before he died, "Keep the money in +beer, Janet"; he said, "Beer'll never fail in this country." And there +you are! + + (She goes to fireplace, opens coal scuttle, takes out a piece of + paper ready placed within, and sticks it on the handle so as to + keep her hands from being soiled as she replenishes the fire.) + +CARVE. (Lightly.) Oh, well! We must wait and see what happens. + +JANET. Supposing the dividend doesn't happen? + +CARVE. I never worry about money. + +JANET. But we shall want to eat once or twice pretty nearly every day, I +suppose? + +CARVE. Personally, I am quite satisfied with a plain but perfect table. + +JANET. You needn't tell me what you are satisfied with. You're satisfied +with the very best at one shilling and sixpence a pound. + +CARVE. I can place eighty pounds per annum at your absolute disposal. +That alone will pay for over a thousand best cuts. + +JANET. Yes, and what about your clothes and my clothes, and the rates +and taxes, and bus-fares, and holidays, and your cigarettes, and doctor, +and errand boys' Christmas-boxes, and gas, and coal, and repairs? +Repairs! A hundred and eighty is more like what we want. + +CARVE. And yet you have several times taken your Bible oath that my +half-share of it all came to less than forty pounds. + +JANET. Well--er--I was thinking of food. (She begins to collect the +breakfast things.) + +CARVE. Jane, you have been a deceitful thing. But never mind. I will +draw a veil over this sinful past. Let us assume that beer goes all to +pieces, and that you never get another cent out of Cohoon's. Well, as +you need a hundred and eighty a year, I will give you a hundred and +eighty a year. + +JANET. And where shall you get the extra hundred? + +CARVE. I shall earn it. + +JANET. No, you don't. I won't have you taking any more situations. + +CARVE. I shall earn it here. + +JANET. How? + +CARVE. Painting! + +JANET. (Stopping her work and coming towards him, half-caressing and +half-chiding.) I don't mind this painting business. Don't think I +object to it in the least. There's a strong smell with it now and then, +but it does keep you quiet in the attic while I'm cleaning the house, +and that's something. And then going out making sketches you get +exercise and fresh air. Being with Ilam Carve so long, I expect you +picked up the habit as it were, and I'm sure I don't want you to drop +it. I love to see you enjoying yourself. But you don't suppose people'll +buy these things (pointing vaguely to picture on chair), do you? +No; there's far too many amateur artists about for that! + +CARVE. If I wanted, I could take a cab and sell that in Bond Street +inside sixty minutes at my own price. Only I don't want. + +JANET. Now, just listen to me. You remember that picture you did of +Putney Bridge with the saloon entrance of the Reindeer Public House +showing in the corner? It was one of the first you did here. + +CARVE. Yes, I was looking for it the other day, and I couldn't find it. + +JANET. I'm not surprised. Because it's sold. + +CARVE. Sold? (Excited.) What in the name of---- + +JANET. (Soothing him.) Now--now! Do you remember you said Ilam Carve +would have got £1000 for a thing just like that? + +CARVE. So he would. It was absolutely characteristic. + +JANET. Well, I said to myself, "He seems mighty sure of himself. +Supposing it's me that's wrong?" So one day I quietly took that picture +round to Bostock's, the second-hand furniture man, you know,--he was a +friend of father's,--and I asked him what he'd give me for it. He +wouldn't take it at any price. Not at any price. Then I asked him if +he'd keep it in his shop and sell it for me on commission. Well, it +stuck in Bostock's shop--in his window and out of his window--for twelve +months and more, and then one day the landlord of the Reindeer saw it +and he bought it for six shillings, because his public-house was in it. +He was half-drunk. Mr. Bostock charged me eighteenpence commission, and +I bought you two neckties with the four and six, and I said nothing +because I didn't want your feelings to be hurt. And that reminds me, +last week but one they took the landlord of the Reindeer off to the +lunatic asylum.... So, you see! + +CARVE. (Serious, preoccupied.) And where's the picture now? + +JANET. I shouldn't be surprised if it's in the private bar of the +Reindeer. + +CARVE. I must get hold of it. + +JANET. Albert, you aren't vexed, are you? + +CARVE. (Forcing himself to adopt a light tone.) How could I be vexed +with two neckties to the good? But don't do it again, Jane. I shall go +round to the Reindeer this morning and have a drink. If that picture +ever found its way to a Bond Street expert's, the consequences might be +awkward--devilish awkward. Because it's dated, you see. + +JANET. No, I don't see. I shouldn't have said a word about it, only I +wanted to save you from being disappointed later on. + +CARVE. (In a new casual tone.) Just get me my cash-box, will you? + +(JANET at once produces the cash-box from a drawer.) + +JANET. And what now? I'm not broke yet, you great silly. (Laughs, but +is rather intimidated by CARVE'S air.) + +CARVE. (Having unlocked box and taken a bag from it.) You see that? +(He showers gold out of it.) Well, count it! + +JANET. Gracious! Ten--fifteen--eighteen--twenty?--two--four--twenty-six +pounds. These your savings? + +CARVE. That's what I've earned with painting, just at odd times. + +JANET. Really? (CARVE nods.) You could knock me down with a feather! + +CARVE. I'll tell you. You know the framemaker's next to Salmon and +Gluckstein's. I buy my colours and canvases and things there. They cost +money. I owed the chap two pounds once, and one morning, in the shop, +when I was opening my box to put some new tubes in, he saw one of my +pictures all wet. He offered of his own accord to take it for what I +owed him. I wouldn't let him have it. But I was rather hard up, so I +said I'd do him another instead, and I did him one in a different style +and not half as good, and of course he liked it even better. Since then, +I've done him quite a few. It isn't that I've needed the money; but it's +a margin, and colours and frames, etc. come to a dickens of a lot in a +year. + +JANET. (Staggered.) And whatever does he do with them? + +CARVE. With the pictures? Don't know. I've never seen one in his window. +I haven't been selling him any lately. + +JANET. Why? + +CARVE. Oh, I didn't feel like it. And the things were getting too good. +But, of course, I can start again any time. + +JANET. (Still staggered.) Two pounds a piece? (CARVE nods.) Would he +give you two pounds for that? (Pointing to portrait.) + +CARVE. You bet he would. + +JANET. Why! Two pounds would keep us for the best part of a week. How +long does it take you to do one? + + (Noise of motor car outside.) + +CARVE. Oh, three or four hours. I work pretty quickly. + +JANET. Well, it's like a fairy tale. Two pounds! I don't know whether +I'm standing on my head or my heels! + + (Violent ringing at front door bell.) + +CARVE. There's one of your tradesmen. + +JANET. It isn't. They know better than come to my front door. They know +I won't have it. + + (Exit, throwing off apron.) + + (CARVE examines the portrait of his wife with evident pleasure.) + +CARVE. (To himself.) That 'ud make 'em sit up in Bond Street. (Laughs +grimly.) + + (Voices off. Re-enter JANET, followed by EBAG carrying a + picture.) + +JANET. Well, it never rains but it pours. Here's a gentleman in a motor +car wants to know if you've got any pictures for sale. (She calmly +conceals her apron.) + +EBAG. (With diplomatic caution and much deference.) Good-morning. + +CARVE. (Whose entire demeanour has suddenly changed into hostility.) +Good-morning. + +EBAG. I've been buying some very delightful little things of yours from +a man that calls himself a picture-dealer and frame-maker (ironically) +in the High Street here. I persuaded him--not without difficulty--to +give me your address. And I've ventured to call just to see if by +chance you have anything for sale. + +CARVE. By chance I haven't! + +EBAG. Nothing at all? + +CARVE. Not a square inch. + +EBAG. (Catching sight of Janet's portrait.) Pardon me. May I look? + +JANET. Oh, do! + +EBAG. A brilliant likeness. + +JANET. Who of? + +EBAG. Why, madam--yourself? The attitude is extraordinarily expressive. +And if I may say so (glancing at CARVE) the placing of the high +lights--those white sleevelets--what d'you call them? + +JANET. Why! Those are my cooking-sleeves! + +EBAG. (Quietly.) Yes--well--it's genius--mere genius. + +JANET. (Looking at picture afresh) It is rather pretty when you come +to look at it. + +EBAG. It is a masterpiece, madam. (To CARVE.) Then I may not make an +offer for it? + +CARVE. No. + +JANET. Excuse me, Albert. Why shouldn't the gentleman make an offer for +it? + +EBAG. (Quickly seizing an opportunity) If you cared to consider, say, +five hundred pounds. + +JANET. Five hundred p---- + +EBAG. I came down quite prepared to spend--and to pay cash. (Fingers +his pocket-book.) + +JANET. (Sitting down.) And if it isn't a rude question--do you +generally go about with five hundred pounds in your pocket, as it were? + +EBAG. (Raising his hands.) In my business, madam-- + +CARVE. It's not for sale. (Turns it round.) + +JANET. (Vivaciously.) Oh yes, it is. Somebody in this house must +think about the future. (Cajolingly.) If this gentleman can show me +five hundred pounds it's for sale. After all, it's my picture. And you +can do me another one. I'd much sooner be done without the +cooking-sleeves. (Entreating.) Albert! + +CARVE. (Shy, nervous, and tongue-tied.) Well! + +JANET. (Endearingly.) That's right! That's all right! + +EBAG. (Putting down notes.) If you will kindly count these-- + +JANET. (Taking the notes.) Nay, I'm too dizzy to count them. (As if +giving up any attempt to realize the situation.) It fairly beats me! I +never did understand this art business, and I never shall....(To +EBAG.) Why are you so interested in my portrait? You've never seen me +before. + +EBAG. Madam, your portrait happens to be one of the very finest modern +paintings I ever saw. (To CARVE.) I have a picture here as to which I +should like to ask your opinion. (Exposing picture.) I bought it ten +years ago. + +CARVE. (After seeing picture.) Janet, would you mind leaving us a +minute. + +JANET. (Triumphant with her money.) Not a bit. + + (Exit, L.) + +EBAG. (Bowing to JANET. Then to CARVE.) It's signed "Ilam Carve." +Should you say it's a genuine Carve? + +CARVE. (More and more disturbed.) Yes. + +EBAG. Where was it painted? + +CARVE. Why do you ask me? + +EBAG. (Quietly dramatic.) Because you painted it. (Pause. He +approaches CARVE.) Master---- + +CARVE. What's that? + +EBAG. Master! + + (Pause.) + +CARVE. (Impulsively.) Look here! I never could stick being called +"master"! It's worse even than "maître." Have a cigarette? How did you +find out who I was? + +EBAG. (Pointing to Janet's portrait.) Isn't that proof enough? + +CARVE. Yes, but you knew before you saw that. + +EBAG. (After lighting-cigarette.) I did. I knew from the very first +picture I bought from our friend the "picture-dealer and frame-maker" in +the early part of last year. + +CARVE. But I'd completely altered my style. I altered it on purpose. + +EBAG. (Shaking his head.) My dear sir, there was once a well-known man +who stood six feet ten inches high. He shaved off his beard and dyed his +hair, and invented a very ingenious costume, and went to a Fancy Dress +Ball as Tom Thumb. Strange to say, his disguise was penetrated +immediately. + +CARVE. Who are you? + +EBAG. My name is Ebag--New Bond Street. + +CARVE. What! You're my old dealer! + +EBAG. And I'm delighted at last to make your acquaintance, sir. It +wasn't until I'd bought several of those small canvases from the Putney +man that I began to inquire closely into their origin. As a general rule +it's a mistake for a dealer to be too curious. But my curiosity got the +better of me. And when I found out that the pictures were being produced +week by week, fresh, then I knew I was on the edge of some mystery. + +CARVE. (Awkwardly.) The fact is, perhaps, I ought to explain. + +EBAG. Pardon me. I ask nothing. It isn't my affair. I felt certain, +solely from the evidence of what I was buying, that the great painter +who was supposed to be buried in Westminster Abbey, and whose somewhat +premature funeral I attended, must be alive and painting vigorously. I +wanted the assurance from your lips. I have it. The rest does not +concern me--at any rate, for the moment. + +CARVE. I'll say this--you know a picture when you see it. + +EBAG. (Proudly.) I am an expert, nothing else. + +CARVE. All right! Well, I'll only ask you to persevere in your +discretion. As you say, it isn't your affair. Thank goodness, I didn't +put a date on any of these things. I won't sell any more. I'd take an +oath never to paint again, only I know I should go and break it next +week. I shall rely on this famous discretion of yours to say +nothing--nothing whatever. + +EBAG. I'm afraid it's too late. + +CARVE. How too late? + +EBAG. I'm afraid I shall have to ask you to state publicly that you are +Ilam Carve, and that there must have been--er--some misapprehension, +somewhere, over that funeral. + +CARVE. (Aghast.) Publicly? Why? + +EBAG. It's like this, I've been selling those pictures to Texel in New +York. You remember, he's always been one of your principal collectors. +He's getting old, and he's half-blind, but he still buys. Now, I rely on +my judgment, and I guaranteed those pictures to be genuine Carves. +Well, somebody over there must have had suspicions. + +CARVE. What does that matter? There isn't a date on any of them. + +EBAG. Just so. But in one of those pictures there's most distinctly a +taxi-cab. It isn't a private motor car. It's a taxi. + +CARVE. And if there is? No law against painting a taxi, I hope! + +EBAG. (Again quietly dramatic.) No. But at the date of your funeral +there wasn't a single taxi on the streets of London. + +CARVE. The devil! + +EBAG. Exactly. Texel is bringing an action against me for +misrepresentation. I shall have to ask you to give evidence and say who +you are. + +CARVE. (Angrily.) But I won't give evidence! You've brought this on +yourself. How much did you sell those little pictures for? + +EBAG. Oh, an average of between four and five hundred. + +CARVE. And what did you pay for them? I ask you, what did you pay for +them? + +EBAG. (Smoothly.) Four pounds a piece. The fact is--I did rather well +out of them. + +CARVE. Damned Jew! + +EBAG. (Smoothly.) Damned--possibly. Jew--most decidedly. But in this +particular instance I behaved just like a Christian. I paid a little +less than I was asked, and sold for the highest I could get. I am +perfectly innocent, and my reputation is at stake. + +CARVE. I don't care. + +EBAG. But I do. It's the reputation of the greatest expert in Europe. +And I shall have to insist on you going into the witness-box. + +CARVE. (Horrified.) Me in the witness-box! Me cross-examined! No. +That's always been my nightmare! + +EBAG. Nevertheless-- + +CARVE. Please go. (Commandingly.) Please go. + + (EBAG, intimidated by CARVE'S demeanour, picks up his pictures + to depart.) + +EBAG. (At door.) Your wife will perhaps be good enough to post me a +receipt for that trifle. (Very respectfully.) Good-morning. + + (Exit, R.) + + (CARVE goes to door, L., and opens it. JANET is standing + behind it.) + + (Enter JANET.) + +CARVE. You've been listening? + +JANET. (Counting her banknotes.) Well, naturally! (Putting notes in +her purse.) + +CARVE. Here's a perfect Hades of a mess. + +JANET. And it all comes of this painting. Art as it's called. (She +finds her apron and puts it on.) + +CARVE. (With an air of discovery.) Your faculty for keeping calm +really is most singular. + +JANET. Somebody has to keep calm. + + (Voice off: "Butcher.") + +CARVE. Anybody would say you didn't care a cent whether I'm Ilam Carve +or whether I'm somebody else. + +JANET. What does it matter to me who you are, so long as you're you? +Men are so unpractical. You can be the Shah of Persia if you like--I +don't mind. + +CARVE. But aren't you convinced now? + + (Voice off: "Butcher.") + +JANET. (With an enigmatic smile at CARVE.) Coming! Coming! + + (Exit.) + + (The stage is darkened to indicate the passage of several + months.) + + + + + +SCENE 2 + + +TIME.--Before daylight on a morning in February. Fire burning in grate. +Also a speck of gas. Otherwise it is dark. + + CARVE is discovered reposing-in an easy-chair. Enter JANET with + a candle. + +JANET. (Stiffly.) So you've not been to sleep either? + +CARVE. (Stiffly.) Oh yes; had an excellent night in this chair. + +JANET. (Going to fire.) Now, you're only boasting. If you've had such +an excellent night (imitating him), who's kept up such an excellent +fire? + +CARVE. (Lamely.) Well, of course I looked after it now and then. I +didn't want to perish in my solitude. + +JANET. Then why didn't you come to bed, great baby? + +CARVE. (Sitting up with solemnity.) Janet, we are a pair of great +babies to have quarrelled like that,--especially at bedtime. + +JANET. (Simply.) Quarrelled? + +CARVE. Well, didn't we? + +JANET. I didn't. I agreed with everything you said. + +CARVE. What did you agree with? I should like to know. + +JANET. You said I didn't really believe after all that you are Ilam +Carve, and I assured you in the most soothing manner that I did believe +you are Ilam Carve! + +CARVE. And do you call that agreeing with me? I know perfectly well from +your tone that in spite of all my explanations and reiterations during +the last three months you don't believe I'm Ilam Carve. You only say +you do in order to soothe me. I hate being soothed. You're as convinced +as ever that Ebag is a rascal, and that I've got a bee in my bonnet. + +JANET. But what does it matter? + +CARVE. (Cold and hard.) Well, I like that! + +JANET. (Weeping.) It's not my fault if I don't believe you're Ilam +Carve. I would if I could, but I can't! You're very cruel. + +CARVE. (Jumping up and embracing her.) Hush, hush! There! +(Cajolingly.) Who's being an infant now? + +JANET. I don't pretend to understand this art. + +CARVE. I hope you never will. One of the chief charms of existence in +your wigwam, my child, is that I never hear any confounded chatter about +art. Now--are we pals? + +JANET. (Smiling reconciliation.) Darling, do turn the gas up. + +CARVE. (Obeying, struck by her attire.) Why--what are you dressed +like that for? + +JANET. I was thinking of going away. + + (Exit, L.) + + (She re-enters immediately with kettle and puts it on fire.) + +CARVE. Going away? + +JANET. (Smiling.) Now do listen, darling. Let's go away. We can't stop +here. This Ebag case is getting more and more on your nerves, and on +mine too. I'm sure that's what's the matter with us. What it'll be next +week when the trial comes on, I don't know--upon my soul I don't. It's +all very well for you to refuse to see callers and never go out. But I +can tell you one thing--we shall have those newspaper people on the roof +in a day or two, and looking down the chimney to see how I lay the fire. +Lawyers are nothing to them. Do you know--no you don't, because I didn't +want you to be upset--last night's milk was brought by a +journalist--with a camera. They're beginning to bribe the tradesmen. I +tremble to think what will be in this morning's papers. + +CARVE. (Trying to make light of it.) Oh, nothing will upset me now. +But you might let me know at once if the editor of the Spectator calls +round with the bread. + +JANET. And I'll tell you another thing. That Mr. Horning--you know the +breathless man on the Evening Courier that came to the Grand +Babylon--he's taken lodgings opposite--arrived last night. + +CARVE. Oh, for a machine gun--one simple little machine gun! + + (Exit JANET, L.) + + She immediately returns with a tray containing bread, etc., and a + toasting-fork. + +JANET. So I thought if we just vanished-- + +CARVE. It's too late--I've had the subpoena. If I hooked it, everybody +would say I was an adventurer. + +JANET. We could come back for the trial. + +CARVE. We should be followed. + +JANET. Not if we start now. + +CARVE. Now? + +JANET. Yes, now! The back door. Before it gets light. + +CARVE. Creep away in the dark! No! I'll go through with the thing. + +JANET. Well, I shall travel alone, then. Here's my bunch of keys. I'll +just explain to you where everything is. I daresay Mrs. Simpson will +come in and clean up. She's not bad, as charwomen go. + +CARVE. Jane! + +JANET. Well! + +CARVE. You're taking an unfair advantage of me. + +JANET. (Putting tea leaves in teapot.) What if I am? + +CARVE. You're only a woman after all.... And I'd thought so highly of +you! + +JANET. (Sweetly.) Then you'll come. Better brush yourself up first. + +CARVE. What time is it? + +JANET. (Looking at clock.) Seven o'clock. + +CARVE. Where do you mean to drag me to? + +JANET. Well, what about this Continent of yours that I've heard so much +of? + +CARVE. There's a train from Victoria at 8.30. + +JANET. Very well then. We'll have another breakfast at Victoria. + +CARVE. And the cab? + +JANET. There isn't going to be any cab--nor luggage--rousing the whole +street! (CARVE goes to window.) For goodness' sake don't draw those +curtains--with the gas flaring up! + +CARVE. Why not? + +JANET. (Conspiratorial.) Supposing there's some journalist on the +watch outside! + +CARVE. I wanted to look at the weather. + +JANET. Well, go to the front door, and mind you open it quietly. + + (Exit CARVE, R.) + + (JANET pours water on tea.) + + (Exit, L.) + + (Re-enter CARVE quickly.) + +CARVE. I say, here's a curate pushed himself in at the front door! + + (Re-enter JANET, L.) + +JANET. No, he's come in at the back. + +CARVE. But I tell you he's here! + + (Enter JAMES SHAWN, L. Then enter JOHN SHAWN, R. Pause.) + +JAMES. Now let me entreat everybody to remain perfectly calm. + +JANET. Oh, don't worry about that. Nothing startles us now. A few +curates more or less.... + +CARVE. (Sinking into chair.) I suppose this is the very newest +journalism. Would you mind me asking a question? + +JAMES. What is it? + + (JANET makes the tea.) + +CARVE. Why did you wait till the door was opened? Seems a pity to stand +on ceremony. Why not have broken a window or so and climbed right in? + +JAMES. John, is mother there? + +JOHN. (At door, R.) Mother, how often shall I have to ask you to keep +close to me? + + (Enter MRS. SHAWN, R.) + +MRS. S. I'm all of a tremble. + +JOHN. (Firmly.) Come now, you mustn't give way. This is he (pointing +to CARVE). Do you recognise him as our father? (JANET, who is cutting +a slice of bread, stops and looks from one to the other.) + +MRS. S. (To CARVE.) Albert, don't you know me? To think that next +Tuesday it'll be six and twenty years since you walked out o' the house +casual like and--and--(Stops from emotion.) + +CARVE. Go on. Go on.... To think that I was once shy! + +JANET. (To MRS. SHAWN.) Here, you'd better come and sit a bit nearer +the fire. (Very kindly.) Come along now! + +MRS. S. (Obeying.) Thank you, m'm. + +JANET. (To JOHN.) And which of you boys was it that had the idea of +keeping a middle-aged woman perishing on a doorstep before daylight in +February? + +JOHN. How else could we-- + +JAMES. (Interrupting him.) Excuse me, John. + +JOHN. (Subsiding.) I beg your pardon, James. + +JAMES. (To JANET.) All questions should be addressed to me. My brother +John is here solely to take charge of our mother. We have done our +best, by careful forethought, to ensure that this painful interview +shall be as brief and as dignified as possible. + +JANET. And couldn't you think of anything cleverer than to give your +poor mother her death of cold for a start? + +JAMES. How else could we have arranged it? I myself rang at your door +for a quarter of an hour yesterday afternoon. + +JANET. We never heard you. + +JAMES. Strange! + +JANET. No, it isn't. We took the bell off three days ago. + +JAMES. I was told that it was impossible to effect an entrance in the +ordinary way. Hence, we had to use craft. I argued that food must come +into the house, and that it probably came in early. + +JANET. Well, it's a good thing for you I happened to hear the cat +mewing, or you might have had another couple of hours in my back yard. +You're the eldest, I suppose. + +JAMES. We are twins. + +JANET. Really! + +CARVE. As you say--really! + +JAMES. I am the older, but the difference between us is not +considerable. + +JOHN. Now, mother, please don't cry. + +JANET. (Having poured out a cup of tea, holds it before MRS. SHAWN.) +Sugar? (MRS. SHAWN signifies an affirmative--JANET drops sugar into +cup, which MRS. SHAWN takes.) You'll drink it easier if you lift your +veil. + +JAMES. Now, mother--you are sure you recognise this gentleman? + +MRS. S. (Not very positively.) Yes--yes. It's a rare long while.... + +JAMES. He is your husband and our father? + +MRS. S. (More positively.) Yes. And sorry I am to say it. (JANET eyes +her carefully.) + +JAMES. I think that suffices. (To JANET.) Madam, you are in a most +unfortunate position. You supposed yourself to be a married woman, +whereas you are nothing of the kind. I needn't say that as the victim of +a heartless bigamist you have our deepest.... + +JANET. (Handing him a slice of bread on toasting-fork.) Just toast +this for your mother, will you, and mind the bars. I'll get another cup +or two. (Goes to sideboard and gets crockery.) + +CARVE. And so these are my two sons! They show little emotion in +beholding the author of their being for the first time. As for me, I +hardly recognise them. + +MRS. S. And is it likely, seeing they were born six months after you +deserted me, Albert? + +CARVE. I see. If it isn't indiscreet, am I a grandfather? + +JAMES. (Toasting.) No, sir. + +CARVE. I only wanted to know the worst. Silly joke about the fertility +of curates--you've met with it, no doubt! + +JAMES. Your tone is simply lamentable, sir. + +JANET. (To JAMES.) Mind! You can do the other side. Now, take care; +the fire's very hot. (In the same mild tone to MRS. SHAWN.) Twenty-six +years, you say? + +MRS. S. Yes. Albert was twenty-two then, weren't you, Albert? + +CARVE. Undoubtedly. + +JANET. And how did you come to find us out at last? + +MRS. S. It was through an advertisement put in the paper by that Mr. +Texel--him that's in this law case--offering a reward for information +about a Mr. Albert Shawn who'd been valet to that artist man that died. + +JANET. Oh! So Mr. Texel has been advertising, has he? (Giving a cup of +tea to JOHN SHAWN.) + +MRS. S. Yes, for anybody that knew Albert Shawn when he was young. +"Albert Shawn," I says, "that's my husband's name." I'd been told he'd +gone off in service with a painter or something of that kind. I married +him as a valet. + +JANET. (Pouring out tea.) A valet? + +MRS. S. A valet, ma'am.... And the struggle I've had to bring up my +children. (Whimpering.) + +JAMES. Now, mother! + +JANET. (Stopping JAMES.) That will do now! Give it me. (Taking toast +and fork.) Here's some tea. Now don't pretend you've never seen a cup +of tea before--you a curate! + + (JAMES accepts tea.) + +MRS. S. Yes, they would go into the church, both of them! I don't know +how we've managed it, but managed it we have, surplices and all. And +very happy they were, I'm sure. And now there's this dreadful scandal. +Oh, Albert, you might at least have changed your name! I--I---- +(Partially breaks down.) + +JOHN. Mother, I beg----(MRS. SHAWN breaks down entirely.) Mother, I +absolutely insist. You know you promised not to speak at all except in +answer to questions. + +JAMES. I think, mother, you really might try---- + +JOHN. Leave her to me! Now, mother! + + (Loud double knock off.) + +JANET. (To JOHN SHAWN.) There's the post! Just go and bring me the +letters in, will you? (JOHN hesitates?) You'll find them scattered +about the floor in the hall. Don't miss any. + + (Exit JOHN SHAWN, R.) + + (MRS. SHAWN recovers.) + +JAMES. And what do you propose to do, madam? + +JANET. (Who has been soothing MRS. SHAWN.) Me? What about? + +JAMES. About this--this bigamy. + +JANET. Oh, nothing. What are you thinking of doing? + + (Re-enter JOHN SHAWN with post, which CARVE takes and begins + to read.) + +JAMES. Well, I suppose you're aware that bigamy is a criminal offence? + +JANET. There's a police-station in the Upper Richmond Road. Better call +there. It'll be so nice for you two, when you're flourishing about in +the pulpit, to think of your father in prison--won't it now? + +JAMES. We, of course, should not prosecute. If you are prepared to go on +living with this gentleman as though nothing had happened-- + +JANET. Oh, I don't mind. + +JAMES. Well, then, I doubt if we should interfere. But Mr. Texel's +lawyers are already in communication with the police. + +JANET. (Stiffly.) I see. (An awkward pause during which everybody +except CARVE, who is reading his post, looks at everybody else.) +Well, then, I think that's about all, isn't it? (A shorter pause.) +Good-morning. (She bows to the curates, and shakes hands with MRS. +SHAWN.) (To MRS. SHAWN.) Now do take care of yourself. + +MRS. S. (Weakly.) Thank you. + +JOHN. Good-morning. Mother, take my arm, please. + +JAMES. Good-morning. + +JANET. Albert, they're going. + +CARVE. (Looking up absently and only half rising, perfunctorily and +quickly) Good-morning. Good-morning. (Sits down.) + +JANET. (To JAMES SHAWN, who is hovering near door L, uncertain of his +way out.) This way, this time! + + (Exeunt the SHAWNS followed by JANET.) + + (CARVE rises and draws curtains of window apart) + + (Re-enter JANET.) + +JANET. (Cheerfully) Oh, it's quite light! (Turns out gas.) + +CARVE. (Gazing at her.) Incomparable woman! + +JANET. So it's true after all! + +CARVE. What? + +JANET. All that rigmarole about you being Ilam Carve? + +CARVE. You're beginning to come round at last? + +JANET. Well, I think they were quite honest people--those three. There's +no doubt the poor creature once had a husband who did run off. And it +seems fairly clear his name was Albert Shawn, and he went away as valet +to an artist. But then, on the other hand, if there is one thing certain +in this world, it is that you were never married before you married me. +That I will swear to. + +CARVE. And yet she identified me. She was positive. + +JANET. Positive? That's just what she wasn't! And didn't you notice the +queer way she looked at you as they went out? As much as to say, "I +wonder now whether it is him--after all?" + +CARVE. Then you really think she could be mistaken on such a point? + +JANET. Pooh! After twenty-six years. Besides, all men of forty-seven +look more or less alike.... And so I'm the wife of Ilam Carve that's +supposed to be buried in Westminster Abbey and royalty went to his +funeral! We'll have some tea ourselves. I say, why did you do it? +(Pours out tea.) + +CARVE. (Casually.) I don't know. It was to save worry to begin with, +and then it went on by itself and somehow I couldn't stop it.... I don't +know! + +JANET. (Endearingly.) Well, I've always told you frankly you've got a +bee in your bonnet. (Drinking tea and turning over the post.) More +letters from these newspaper people! What's this lovely crest on this +envelope? + +CARVE. It's from Lord Leonard Alcar. He says if we'll go up and see him +to-morrow afternoon he'll be very much obliged indeed, and he may be +able to be of assistance to us. + +JANET. (Deeply impressed.) Lord Leonard Al ... Where's the letter? +(Searches for it hurriedly. As she reads it.) Well I never! +(Reading) "And Mrs. Shawn." I've got nothing to go in. + +CARVE. Oh, I shan't go! + +JANET. Why not? + +CARVE. Well, what about this trip to the Continent? + +JANET. Continent fiddlesticks. I've never been asked to go and see a +Lord before.... + +CARVE. Now listen, Jane. What earthly good can it do? I shan't go. + +JANET. I shall. So there! Six Dukes in the family! I wouldn't miss it +for anything. + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT IV + +SCENE I + + +LORD LEONARD ALCAR'S study, Grosvenor Gardens. Door, back centre. +Door, L. JANET'S portrait is conspicuous on a wall. + +TIME.--The next afternoon. + + LORD LEONARD ALCAR and MR. TEXEL are coming into the room from + door at back. + +ALCAR. You still go on collecting, Mr. Texel? + +TEXEL. (Uncertain of his steps.) Well, yes. I've been amusing myself +with pictures for pretty nigh forty years. Why should I deprive myself +of this pleasure merely because my eyesight's gone? + +ALCAR. Why, indeed! You have the true collecting spirit. Permit me +(directs Texel's hand to chair). + +TEXEL. Thanks, I'm on to it (Sitting down.) My sight's going steadily +worse, but there are still a few things that I can make out pretty +clearly, Lord Leonard. Motor omnibuses, cathedrals, English +easy-chairs.... + +ALCAR. Well, I'm charmed to find you in such good spirits, and really I +feel very grateful to you for accepting my invitation. + +TEXEL. Delighted to make your acquaintance, sir. Two old collectors like +us--rivals at Christie's. I wonder how many times I've cabled over +instructions to my agent to smash you at any cost. Delighted to meet +you, Lord Leonard. + +ALCAR. We ought to have met earlier, Mr. Texel. Now I've got you here, I +must tell you I've ventured to invite one or two--er--kindred spirits to +meet you. + + (Enter SERVANT.) + +SERVANT. Mr. Ebag. + + (Enter EBAG.) + + (Exit SERVANT). + +ALCAR. How d'you do, Ebag? + +EBAG. My lord. + +ALCAR. Let me introduce you to Mr. Texel. Mr. Texel, this is Mr. Ebag. + +TEXEL. (Surprised--aside to LORD LEONARD ALCAR.) This one of your +kindred spirits? + +EBAG. (Also surprised?) Mr. Texel! + +TEXEL. (Holding out his hand towards EBAG, who takes it.) Well, Mr. +Ebag, I've made a special journey to Europe to get a verdict from an +English court that you've done me up for about thirty thousand dollars, +and if I get it I'll do my level best afterwards to see you safe into +prison; but in the meantime I'm very glad to meet you. I feel sure +you're one of the right sort, whatever you are. + +EBAG. You flatter me, Mr. Texel. The gladness is mutual. + + (Enter SERVANT.) + +SERVANT. Mr. Cyrus Carve. Mr. and Mrs. X. + + (Enter JANET. She hesitates in doorway. LORD LEONARD ALCAR + goes to meet her.) + +JANET. You Lord Alcar? + +ALCAR. I am Lord Leonard Alcar? + +JANET. My mistake! (They shake hands.) But why does this young man +call me Mrs. X. I told him Carve, plain enough. + +ALCAR. Did he? A slip--a slip! You've brought your husband? + +JANET. Yes, but not so easily as all that. I'm afraid he's quarrelling +out there with Mr. Cyrus Carve. They get across one another on the +stairs. + +ALCAR. Tut-tut. Excuse me one moment. + + (Exit hurriedly.) + + (Exit SERVANT.) + +JANET. Mr. Ebag! So you're here too! Why, it's a family party. + +EBAG. (Astounded.) How do you do, Mrs. Shawn? I beg pardon, Mrs. +Carve. + +JANET. It seems I'm Mrs. X now--didn't you hear? + +EBAG. I expect the servant had received instructions. His lordship has a +great reputation for wit, you know. + +JANET. (Looking round.) And what's this room supposed to be? + +EBAG. Oh, the study, probably. + +JANET. Really! Not what you'd call 'homely,' is it? Rather like being on +the stage. + + (Enter LORD LEONARD ALCAR, leading CARVE on his right and + CYRUS on his left. Servant closes door from without.) + +ALCAR. Now we're all safely here, and I fancy there will be enough +easy-chairs to go round. Mr. Texel, you already know Mr. Cyrus Carve, +and you will be pleased to meet the talented artist who painted the +pictures which you have been buying from Mr. Ebag. He has most kindly +consented to be called Mr. X for the moment. This is Mrs. X, Mr. Texel. + + (They bow--CYRUS shakes hands with TEXEL.) + +EBAG. (To CYRUS.) How d'you do? + +CYRUS. How d'you do? + +CARVE. How d'you do? + +ALCAR. (Observing that these three are already acquainted.) Good! +Excellent! Now, Mrs.--er--X, will you have this chair near the fire? +(Fixes chair for her.) + +TEXEL. (Indicating JANET, aside to EBAG.) Good looking? + +EBAG. (Aside to TEXEL.) Very agreeable little thing! + +TEXEL. Excellent! Excellent! + +ALCAR. (Interrupting a gesture from CARVE.) You have all done me a +signal favour by coming here. In thanking you, I wonder if I may ask +another favour. May I? + +TEXEL. Certainly. Among kindred spirits. + +EBAG. Assuredly, my lord. + +ALCAR. I would merely request you to control so far as possible any +expression of your astonishment at meeting one another here. That is to +say, any violent expression. + +CARVE. (Gaily and carelessly.) Oh, very well! Very well! + +(LORD LEONARD ALCAR waves the rest of the company into chairs, +tactfully separating CYRUS and CARVE as much as possible. He remains +standing himself.) + +JANET. I suppose what you really want is to stop this funny trial from +coming on. + +ALCAR. (Slightly taken aback.) Mrs. X, I congratulate myself on your +presence here. Yes, my ambition is to be peacemaker. Of course a +peacemaker always runs the risk of a broken head, but I shall entrust my +head to your good nature. As a proof that I really mean business, I need +only point out that I haven't invited a single lawyer. + +EBAG. (After slight pause.) This is exceedingly good of your lordship. + +TEXEL. For myself I'm rather looking forward to next week. I've spared +no expense to get up a first-class show. Half the papers in New York and +Chicago are sending over special correspondents. I've even secured your +champion humorous judge; and altogether I reckon this trial will be +about the greatest judicial proposition the British public's seen in +years. Still, I'm always ready to oblige--and I'll shake hands right +now, on terms--my terms. + +ALCAR. We are making progress. + +TEXEL. But what I don't understand is--where you come in, Lord +Leonard. + +ALCAR. Where I come in? + +TEXEL. Well, I don't want to be personal, but is this Hague Conference +merely your hobby, or are you standing in with somebody? + +ALCAR. I quite appreciate your delicacy. Let me assure you that, though +it gives me the greatest pleasure to see you all, I have not selected +you as the victims of a hobby. Nor have I anything whatever to gain by +stopping the trial. The reverse. At the trial I should probably have a +seat on the bench next to a delightful actress, and I should enjoy the +case very much indeed. I have no doubt that even now the learned judge +is strenuously preparing his inimitable flashes of humour, and that, +like the rest of the world, I should allow myself to be convulsed by +them. I like to think of four K.C.'s toiling hard for a miserable +hundred guineas a day each. I like to think of the solicitors, good, +honest fellows, striving their best to keep the costs as low as +possible. I even like to think of the jury with their powerful +intellects who, when we are dead and gone, Mr. Texel, will tell their +grandchildren proudly how they decided the famous case of Texel v. +Ebag. Above all, I like to think of the witnesses revelling in their +cross-examination. Nobody will be more sorry than I to miss this grand +spectacle of the greatest possible number of the greatest possible +brains employed for the greatest possible length of time in settling a +question that an average grocer's assistant could settle in five +minutes. I am human. But, I have been approached--I have been +flattered by the suggestion--that I might persuade you two gentlemen to +abandon the trial, and I may whisper to you that the abandonment of the +trial would afford satisfaction in--er--influential quarters. + +TEXEL. Then are we up against the British Government? Well, go ahead. + +ALCAR. (Protesting with a very courteous air of extreme astonishment.) +My dear Mr. Texel, how can I have been so clumsy as to convey such an +idea? The Government? Not in the least--not in the least. On behalf of +nobody whatever. (Confidentially.) I am merely in a position to inform +you positively that an amicable settlement of the case would be viewed +with satisfaction in influential quarters. + +JANET. Well, I can tell you it would be viewed with satisfaction in a +certain street in Putney. But influential quarters--what's it got to do +with them? + +ALCAR. I shall be quite frank with you. The dignity of Westminster Abbey +is involved in this case, and nothing in all England is more sacred to +us than Westminster Abbey. One has only to pronounce the word "the +Abbey"--to realize that. We know what a modern trial is; we know what +the modern press is; and, unhappily, we know what the modern bench is. +It is impossible to contemplate with equanimity the prospect of +Westminster Abbey and its solemnities being given up to the tender +mercy of the evening papers and a joking judge surrounded by millinery. +Such an exhibition would be unseemly. It would soil our national +existence. In a word, it would have a bad effect. + +CARVE. (Meditatively--bland.) How English! (He gets up and walks +unobtrusively about the room, examining the pictures.) + +ALCAR. Undoubtedly. But this is England. It is perhaps a disadvantage +that we are not in Russia nor in Prussia. But we must make the best of +our miserable country. (In a new tone, showing the orator skilled in +changes of voice.) Can't we discuss our little affair in a friendly way +entirely without prejudice? We are together here, among gentlemen-- + +JANET. I'm afraid you're forgetting me. + +ALCAR. (Recovering himself.) Madam, I am convinced that none of us can +be more gentlemanly than yourself.... Can we not find a way of +settlement? (With luxurious enjoyment of the idea.) Imagine the fury +of all those lawyers and journalists when they learn that we--er--if I +may so express it--have done them in the eye! + +TEXEL. If I wasn't going to come out on top, I could understand you +worrying about your old Abbey. But I'm taking the part of your Abbey. +When I win it wins, and I'm certain to win. + +ALCAR. I do not doubt---- + +EBAG. (With suave assurance.) But I do. + +ALCAR. (Continuing.) I do not doubt your conviction, Mr. Texel. It +merely proves that you have never seen a British Jury exercising itself +upon a question relating to the fine arts. If you had you would not be +certain, for you would know that twelve tradesmen so occupied are +capable of accomplishing the most incredible marvels. Supposing you +don't win--supposing Mr. Ebag wins---- + +EBAG. As I assuredly shall. + +ALCAR. Then we should have the whole world saying, "Well, they haven't +given a national funeral to a really great artist for about a century, +and when at last they do try they only succeed in burying a valet." + +CARVE. (Looking round casually.) England all over! + +ALCAR. The effect would be lamentable--utterly lamentable. You will +realize that in influential quarters---- + +TEXEL. But do you reckon this policy of hushing up things ever does any +good? + +ALCAR. My dear sir, it is the corner-stone of England's greatness. It is +the policy that has made her what she is! + +CARVE. (Looking round again.) True! What she is! + +ALCAR. (Turning sharply to CARVE behind him.) Mr. X, your interest +in my picture flatters me immensely---- + +CARVE. (Interrupting him.) I see you've bought my latest portrait of +my wife. + +ALCAR. Yes. + +JANET. (Starting up.) What's that? (She goes to inspect picture.) + +CARVE. I suppose it would be abusing your hospitality to inquire how +much you paid our excellent dealer for it? + +ALCAR. Not in the least. But the fact is we haven't yet settled the +price. The exact price is to depend on the result of our gathering. + +JANET. Well, if anybody had told me I should find my own +portrait--cooking-sleeves and all---- + + (Inarticulate--she returns to her chair.) + +ALCAR. And now that we have got so far, Mr. X, I should like to +centralize the attention of this quite friendly gathering on yourself. + +CARVE. (Approaching airily.) Really! (He sits.) + +ALCAR. There are several questions we might discuss. For example, we +might argue the artistic value of the pictures admittedly the work of +Mr. X. That would probably occupy us for about ten years. Or we might +ask ourselves how it happened that that exceedingly astute dealer, Mr. +Ebag, came to sell as a genuine Ilam Carve, without offering any +explanation, a picture which, on the face of it, was painted some time +after that great painter had received a national funeral in Westminster +Abbey. + +EBAG. Sheer carelessness, my lord. + +ALCAR. Or we might ask ourselves why a valet should try to pass himself +off as a world-renowned artist. Or, on the other hand, why a +world-renowned artist should pass himself off as a valet. + +CARVE. Sheer carelessness, my lord. + +ALCAR. But these details of psychology are beside the main point. And +the main point is (to CARVE)--Are you Ilam Carve or are you Albert +Shawn? (To the others.) Surely with a little goodwill and +unembarrassed by the assistance of experts, lawyers, and wigs generally, +we can settle that! And once it is settled the need for a trial ceases. +(CARVE assumes an elaborately uninterested air.) The main point does +not seem to interest you, Mr. X. + +CARVE. (Seeming to start.) I beg your pardon. No, not profoundly. Why +should it? + +ALCAR. Yet you claim---- + +CARVE. Excuse me. I claim nothing except to be let alone. Certainly I do +not ask to be accepted as Ilam Carve. I was leading a placid and +agreeable existence in a place called Putney, an ideal existence with a +pearl among women, when my tranquillity was disturbed and my life +transformed into a perfect nightmare by a quarrel between a retail +trades-man (indicating EBAG) and a wholesale ink-dealer (indicating +TEXEL) about one of my pictures. It does not concern me. My role is and +will be passive. If I am forced into the witness-box I shall answer +questions to the worst of my ability, and I shall do no more. I am not +cross. I am not sulking; but I consider that I have a grievance. If I am +here, it is solely because my wife does what she likes with me. + +TEXEL. Bravo! This is as good as the trial. + +ALCAR. (Good-humouredly.) Will you answer questions here? + +CARVE. (Good-humouredly.) It depends. + +ALCAR. Do you assert that you are Ilam Carve? + +CARVE. I assert nothing. + +ALCAR. Are you Ilam Carve? + +CARVE. Yes, but I don't want to be. + +ALCAR. Might I inquire why you allowed your servant to be buried in your +name? + +CARVE. Well, he always did everything for me--a most useful man.... But +I didn't 'allow' him to be buried in my name. On the contrary, I told +various people that I was not dead--but strange to say, nobody would +believe me. My handsome, fascinating cousin here wouldn't even let me +begin to tell him. Even my wife wouldn't believe me, so I gave it up. + + (TEXEL does not conceal his enjoyment of the scene.) + +CYRUS. (Grimly.) Which wife? + + (CARVE twiddles his thumbs.) + +ALCAR. But do you mean---- + +TEXEL. May I interrupt, Lord Leonard? I could listen for hours to this +absolutely stupendous gentleman. A circus is nothing to it. But aren't +we jumping the track? I've got two witnesses. Mr. Cyrus Carve will swear +that your Mr. X is not his cousin. And the original Mrs. Albert Shawn +will swear that he is her husband. That's my case. How is my esteemed +opponent going to answer it? + +EBAG. In the first place, have you cross-examined this very original +Mrs. Albert Shawn? + +TEXEL. Come. You don't mean to argue that a woman could mistake another +man for her own husband--even after twenty-five years or so? + +EBAG. (Smiling apologetically for his freedom.) According to the +divorce reports, they're constantly doing it after one year, to say +nothing of twenty-five. + +TEXEL. (Appreciative.) Good! That's good! Well, I may tell you right +here that I had an interview with this gentleman's (indicating CARVE) +ecclesiastical twins only yesterday afternoon, and they assure me that +their mother is positive on the point. + +JANET. (Meditatively.) Simpletons! + +ALCAR. I beg pardon. + +JANET. I daresay they preach very nicely, but out of the pulpit they +don't what I should call shine, poor boys! Anybody could see she wasn't +positive. Why, it wasn't until the old lady dropped in to have a cup of +tea with us that I felt sure my husband's name really was Carve. + +ALCAR. Then you hadn't credited his story before? + +JANET. Well, it wanted some crediting, didn't it? + +CYRUS. (With intention.) You only began to credit it after Mr. Ebag +had called and paid you the sum of £500 in cash. + +JANET. (After a slight pause, calmly.) Oh! So you know about that, do +you? + +CARVE. (To CYRUS, genially.) Cousin, if you continue in that strain +I shall have to take you out on to the doormat and assault you. + +EBAG. I should like to say---- + +CYRUS. (Interrupting grimly.) Lord Leonard, isn't it time that this +ceased? + +TEXEL. (Heartily amused.) But why? I'm enjoying every minute of it. + +ALCAR. I should be sorry to interfere with Mr. Texel's amusement, but I +think the moment has now come for me to make a disclosure. When I was +approached as to this affair I consulted Mr. Cyrus Carve first, he being +the sole surviving relative of his cousin. That seemed to me to be the +natural and proper course to adopt. Mr. Cyrus Carve gave me a very +important piece of information, and it is solely on the strength of that +information that I have invited you all to come here this afternoon. +(He looks at CYRUS.) + +CYRUS. (Clearing his throat, to EBAG and CARVE.) Of course, you'll +argue that after thirty-five years absence it's a wise man that can +recognize his own cousin. I'm absolutely convinced in my own mind that +you (scorn-fully to CARVE) are not my cousin. But then, you'll tell me +that men have been hung before now on the strength of sworn +identification that proved afterwards to be mistaken. I admit it. I +admit that in theory I may be wrong. (With increased grim sarcasm.) I +admit that in theory the original Mrs. Shawn may be wrong. Everything's +possible, especially with a bully of a K.C. cross-examining you, and a +judge turning you into 'copy' for Punch. But I've got something up my +sleeve that will settle the whole affair instantly, to the absolute +satisfaction of both plaintiff and defendant. + +CARVE. My dear fellow, why not have told us this exciting news earlier? + +CYRUS. Why not? (Glowering at CARVE.) Because I wanted you to commit +yourself completely beyond any withdrawing. I decided what sort of man +you were the moment I first set eyes on you, and when I heard of this +law case, I said to myself that I'd come forward as a witness, but I +shouldn't give any evidence away in advance. I said to myself I'd show +you up once and for all in full court. However, his lordship prevailed +on me. + +CARVE. Well? + +CYRUS. When my cousin and I were boys I've seen him with his shirt off. + +CARVE. True. And he's seen you with yours off. + +CYRUS. Now just here (pointing to left front neck below collar), just +below his collar, my cousin Ilam Carve had two moles close together--one +was hairy and the other wasn't. My cousin was very proud of them. + +CARVE. Oh! + +CYRUS. (Ferociously sarcastic.) I suppose you'll say you've had them +removed? + +CARVE. (Casually.) No. Not precisely. + +CYRUS. Can you show them? + +CARVE. (Very casually.) Of course. + +TEXEL. (Slapping his knee.) Great! Great! + +CYRUS. (Staggered but obstinate.) Well, let's have a look at them. + +ALCAR. (To JANET.) Then doubtless you are familiar with this double +phenomenon, Mrs. X? + +JANET. Yes. But he isn't so proud of his moles now as he used to be when +he was a boy. + +ALCAR. Now, gentlemen, you see how beautifully clear the situation is. +By one simple act we shall arrive at a definite and final result, and we +shall have avoided all the noise and scandal of a public trial. Mr. X, +will you oblige us very much by taking your collar off? + +JANET. (Jumping up.) Please, there's just one little thing. (To +CARVE.) Wait a moment, dear. (To EBAG.) Mr. Ebag, how many of those +pictures did you sell to Mr. Texel? + +EBAG. Fifteen. + +JANET. And you made a profit of over four hundred pounds on each? + +TEXEL. (Boisterously--laughing to EBAG.) You did? + +JANET. Fifteen times four hundred--that makes--how much does it make? + +TEXEL. Six thousand, madam. Thirty thousand dollars. Great! + +JANET. (To EBAG.) Don't you think we deserve some of that, as it were? + +EBAG. Madam, I shall be delighted to pay you five thousand four hundred +pounds. That will be equivalent to charging you a nominal commission of +ten per cent. + +JANET. Thank you. + +CARVE. I won't touch a penny of their wretched money. + +JANET. (Sweetly.) I wouldn't dream of asking you to, dearest. I +shall touch it. Goodness knows what street we shall be in after this +affair--and with my brewery shares gone simply all to pieces! Now, +dearest, you can take it off. (She resumes her seat.) + +CARVE. (Lightly.) I'm hanged if I do! + +ALCAR. But, my dear Mr. X! + +CARVE. (Lightly.) I'm dashed if I take my collar off. + +CYRUS. (Triumphant.) Ha! I knew it. + +CARVE. Why should I offer my skin to the inspection of two individuals +in whom I haven't the slightest interest? They've quarrelled about me, +but is that a reason why I should undress myself? Let me say again, I've +no desire whatever to prove that I am Ilam Carve. + +ALCAR. But surely to oblige us immensely, Mr. X, you will consent to +give just one extra performance of an operation which, in fact, you +accomplish three hundred and sixty-five times every year without any +disastrous results. + +CARVE. I don't look at it like that. Already my fellow-citizens, +expressing their conviction that I was a great artist, have buried me in +Westminster Abbey--not because I was a great artist, but because I +left a couple of hundred thousand pounds for a public object. And now my +fellow-citizens, here assembled, want me to convince them that I am a +great artist by taking my collar off. I won't do it. I simply will not +do it. It's too English. If any person wishes to be convinced that I'm +an artist and not a mountebank, let him look at my work (pointing +vaguely to a picture), because that's all the proof that I mean to +offer. If he is blind or shortsighted I regret it, but my neck isn't +going to help him. + +TEXEL. Brilliant! Then we shall have the trial after all. + +CYRUS. Yes, but your brilliant friend will be on his way to South +America before then. + +JANET. (Sweetly to CYRUS.) I assure you it's quite true about those +moles. That's why he wears those collars. + +CYRUS. (Grimly.) No doubt.... (Repeating.) Nevertheless he'll be on +his way to South America. + +CARVE. (Gaily.) Or Timbuctoo. + +CYRUS. (Significantly.) Unless you're stopped. + +CARVE. And who's going to stop me? All the laws of this country added +together can't make me take my collar off if I don't want to. + +CYRUS. What about arresting you for bigamy? What about Holloway? I fancy +at Holloway they have a short method with people who won't take their +collars off. + +CARVE. Well, that will only be another proof that the name of this +island is England. It will be telegraphed to the Continent that in order +to prove to herself that she possessed a great artist, England had to +arrest him for bigamy and shove him into prison.... Characteristic! +Characteristic! + +ALCAR. (Who has moved across to JANET.) Mrs. X, can you-- + +JANET. (Rising to CARVE, winningly.) Now--Ilam. You're only laying +up trouble for yourself, and for me too. Do please think of the trial. +You know how shy you are, and how you tremble at the mere thought of a +witness-box. + +CYRUS. I can believe it. + +CARVE. (Smiling at JANET.) I've got past shyness. I think it was the +visit of my fine stalwart sons yesterday that cured me of shyness. I +doubt if I shall ever be shy any more. + +JANET. (Appealingly.) Dearest, to please me! + +CARVE. (Curt now for the first time, with a flash of resentment.) No. + +JANET. (After a slight pause; hurt and startled; with absolute +conviction, to LORD LEONARD ALCAR.) It's no use. He's made up his mind. + +EBAG. I have an idea that I can persuade-- + +JANET. (Hotly.) Excuse me. You can't. + +EBAG. I have an idea I can. But (hesitates) the fact is, not in the +presence of ladies. + +JANET. Oh. If that's all--(walks away in a huff.) + +EBAG. (To JANET.) My deepest apologies. + + (LORD LEONARD ALCAR shows JANET out) + +TEXEL. Well, well! What now? + +EBAG. (To CARVE.) You remember Lady Alice Rowfant? + +CARVE. (Taken aback.) That doesn't concern you. + +EBAG. (Ignoring this answer.) Pardon me if I speak plainly. You were +once engaged to marry Lady Alice Rowfant. But a few days before your +valet died you changed your mind and left her in the lurch in Spain. +Lady Alice Rowfant is now in England. She has been served with a +subpoena to give evidence at the trial. And if the trial comes on she +will have to identify you and tell her story in court. (Pause.) Are +you going to put her to this humiliation? + + (CARVE walks about. Then he gives a gesture of surrender.) + +CARVE. The artist is always beaten! (With an abrupt movement he pulls +undone the bow of his necktie.) + + (The stage is darkened to indicate the passage of a few minutes.) + + + + +SCENE 2 + + + (CARVE is attempting to re-tie his necktie. LORD LEONARD ALCAR + is coming away from door back. JANET enters from door, L.) + +JANET. (Under emotion, to CARVE.) Then you've done it! (CARVE ignores +her.) + +ALCAR. Yes, and I feel like a dentist. + +JANET. You've sent them all away. + +ALCAR. I thought you'd like me to. Mr. Ebag took charge of Mr. Texel. +Your cousin Cyrus was extremely upset. + +JANET. What did she say? + +ALCAR. Who say? + +JANET. Lady Alice Rowfant, of course. Oh! You needn't pretend! As soon +as Mr. Ebag asked me to go out I knew he'd got her up his sleeve. +(Weeps slightly.) + +ALCAR. (Very sympathetically.) My dear young lady, what is the matter? + +JANET. (Her utterance disturbed by sobs--indicating CARVE.) He'd do it +for her, but he wouldn't do it for me! + +ALCAR. I assure you, Lady Alice Rowfant has not been here. + +JANET. Honest? + +ALCAR. No. The mere mention of her name was sufficient. + +JANET. That's even worse! (Rushing across to CARVE and pettishly +seizing his necktie. CARVE submits.) Here! Let me do it--for goodness +sake! Great clumsy! (Still tearful--to LORD LEONARD ALCAR as she ties +the necktie.) Somehow I don't mind crying in front of you, because +you're so nice and fatherly. + +ALCAR. Well, if I'm so fatherly, may I venture on a little advice to you +two? (To CARVE.) You said you didn't want to be Ilam Carve. Don't +be Ilam Carve. Let Ilam Carve continue his theoretical repose in the +Abbey and you continue to be somebody else. It will save a vast amount +of trouble, and nobody will be a penny the worse. Leave +England--unobtrusively. If you feel homesick, arrange to come back +during a general election, and you will be absolutely unnoticed. You +have money. If you need more, I can dispose of as many new pictures as +you like to send. + +JANET. I don't want him to paint any more pictures. + +ALCAR. But he will. + +JANET. I suppose he will. Why is it? As if we hadn't had enough bother +already through this art business! + +ALCAR. Yes. But artists are like that, you know. + +JANET. (Affectionately reproachful to CARVE.) Child! Look how nicely +I've tied it for you. (Shakes him.) Whatever are you dreaming about? + +CARVE. (After glancing in mirror reflectively.) There's only one +question. Last time they buried me in the Abbey,--what will they do with +me next time? + + + + +CURTAIN. + + + + + WORKS BY ARNOLD BENNETT + + NOVELS + + A MAN FROM THE NORTH + ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS + LEONORA + A GREAT MAN + SACRED AND PROFANE LOVE + WHOM GOD HATH JOINED + BURIED ALIVE + THE OLD WIVES' TALE + THE GLIMPSE + HELEN WITH THE HIGH HAND + CLAYHANGER + THE CARD + HILDA LESSWAYS + + FANTASIAS + + THE GRAND BABYLON HOTEL + THE GATES OF WRATH + TERESA OF WATLING STREET + THE LOOT OF CITIES + HUGO + THE GHOST + THE CITY OF PLEASURE + + SHORT STORIES + + TALES OF THE FIVE TOWNS + THE GRIM SMILE OF THE FIVE TOWNS + THE MATADOR OF THE FIVE TOWNS + + BELLES-LETTRES + + JOURNALISM FOR WOMEN + FAME AND FICTION + HOW TO BECOME AN AUTHOR + THE TRUTH ABOUT AN AUTHOR + THE REASONABLE LIFE + HOW TO LIVE ON TWENTY-FOUR HOURS A DAY + THE HUMAN MACHINE + LITERARY TASTE + THE FEAST OF ST. FRIEND + THOSE UNITED STATES + + DRAMA + + POLITE FARCES + CUPID AND COMMON SENSE + WHAT THE PUBLIC WANTS + THE HONEYMOON + + MILESTONES (In collaboration with EDWARD KNOBLAUCH) + + * * * * * + + (In collaboration with EDEN PHILLPOTTS) + + THE SINEWS OF WAR: A ROMANCE + THE STATUE: A ROMANCE + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT ADVENTURE*** + + +******* This file should be named 13894-8.txt or 13894-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/3/8/9/13894 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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