THE SECOND ACT
The scene is a supper-room at the Hotel des Princes, Meek Street, with two doors—the one leading into an adjoining room, the other into a passage—and a window opening on to a balcony.
Isidore, a French waiter, is showing in Cis and Mr. Posket.
Cis.
Come on, Guv—come on. How are you, Isidore?
Isidore.
I beg your pardon—I am quite well, and so are you, zank you.
Cis.
I want a pretty little light supper for myself and my friend, Mr. Skinner.
Isidore.
Mr. Skinner.
Mr. Posket.
[To Cis.] Skinner! Is some one else coming?
Cis.
No, no. You’re Skinner.
Mr. Posket.
Oh!
[Wanders round the room.
Cis.
Mr. Skinner, of the Stock Exchange. What have you ready?
Isidore.
[In an undertone to Cis.] I beg your pardon—very good—but Monsieur Blond he say to me, “Isidore, listen now; if Mr. Farringdon he come here, you say, I beg your pardon, you are a nice gentleman, but will you pay your little account when it is quite convenient, before you leave the house at once.”
Cis.
Quite so, there’s no difficulty about that. What’s the bill?
Isidore.
[Gives the bill.] I beg your pardon. Eight pounds four shillings.
Cis.
Phew! Here go my winnings from old Bullamy and the Guv. [Counting out money.] Two pounds short. [Turning to Mr. Posket, who is carefully examining the scratches on the mirrors.] Skinner! Skinner!
Mr. Posket.
Visitors evidently scratch their names on the mirrors. Dear me! Surely this is a spurious title—“Lottie, Duchess of Fulham!” How very curious!
Cis.
Skinner, got any money with you?
Mr. Posket.
Yes, Cis, my boy.
[Feels for his money.
Cis.
You always keep it in that pocket, Skinner.
Mr. Posket.
[Taking out money.] Oh, yes.
[Cis takes two sovereigns from Mr. Posket and gives the amount of his bill to Isidore, who goes to the sideboard to count out change.
Cis.
No putting the change to bed, Isidore,
Mr. Posket.
What’s that?
Cis.
Putting the change to bed! Isidore will show you. [To Isidore, who comes to them with the change and the bill on a plate.] Isidore, show Mr. Skinner how you put silver to bed.
Isidore.
Oh, Mr. Farringdon, I beg your pardon—no, no!
Mr. Posket.
It would be most instructive.
Isidore.
Very good. [Goes to the table, upon which he puts plate.] Say I have to give you change sixteen shillings.
Mr. Posket.
Certainly.
Isidore.
Very good. Before I bring it to you I slip a little half-crown under the bill—so. Then I put what is left on the top of the bill, and I say, “I beg your pardon, your change.” You take it, you give me two shillings for myself, and all is right.
Mr. Posket.
[Counting the silver on the bill with the end of his glasses.] Yes, but suppose I count the silver, it is half-a-crown short!
Isidore.
Then I say, “I beg your pardon, how dare you say that?” Then I do so. [He pulls the bill from the plate.] Then I say, “The bill is eight pounds four shillings [handing the plate], count again.”
Mr. Posket.
Ah, of course, it’s all right now.
Isidore.
Very good, then you give me five shillings for doubting me. Do it; do it.
Mr. Posket.
[In a daze, giving him the five shillings.] Like this?
Isidore.
Yes, like that. [Slipping the money into his pocket.] I beg your pardon—thank you. [Handing Cis the rest of the change.] Your change, Mr. Farringdon.
Cis.
Oh, I say, Isidore.
Blond, a fat, middle-aged French hotel-keeper, enters with a letter in his hand.
Isidore.
Monsieur Blond.
Blond.
Good evening, Mr. Farringdon.
Isidore.
[Quietly to Blond.] Ze bill is all right.
Cis.
Good evening. [Introducing Mr. Posket.] My friend, Mr. Harvey Skinner, of the Stock Exchange.
Blond.
Very pleased to see you. [To Cis.] Are you going to enjoy yourselves?
Cis.
Rather.
Blond.
You usually eat in this room, but you don’t mind giving it up for to-night—now, do you?
Cis.
Oh, Achille!
Blond.
Come, come, to please me. A cab has just brought a letter from an old customer of mine, a gentleman I haven’t seen for over twenty years, who wants to sup with a friend in this room to-night. It’s quite true. [Giving Cis a letter.]
Cis.
[Reading to himself.] “19A, Cork Street. Dear Blond,—Fresh, or rather, stale from India—want to sup with my friend, Captain Vale, to-night, at my old table in my old room. Must do this for Auld Lang Syne. Yours, Alexander Lukyn.” [To Blond.] Oh, let him have it. Where will you put us?
Blond.
You shall have the best room in the house, the one next to this. This room—pah! Come with me. [To Mr. Posket.] Have you known Mr. Farringdon for a long time?
Mr. Posket.
No, no. Not very long.
Blond.
Ah, he is a fine fellow—Mr. Farringdon. Now, if you please. You can go through this door.
[Wheels sofa away and unlocks the door.
Cis.
[To Mr. Posket.] You’ll look better after a glass or two of Pommery, Guv.
Mr. Posket.
No, no, Cis—now, no champagne.
Cis.
No champagne, not for my friend, Harvey Skinner! Come, Guv—dig me in the ribs—like this. [Digging him in the ribs.] Chuck!
Mr. Posket.
[Shrinking.] Oh, don’t!
Cis.
And say, Hey! Go on, Guv.
Mr. Posket.
I can’t—I can’t. I don’t know what it may mean.
Cis.
[Digging him in the ribs again.] Go on—ch-uck!
Mr. Posket.
What, like this? [Returning the dig.] Ch-uck.
Cis.
That’s it, that’s it. Ha, ha! You are going it, Guv.
Mr. Posket.
Am I, Cis? Am I? [Waving his arm.] Hey!
Cis and Mr. Posket.
Hey!
Cis.
Ha, ha! Come on! Serve the supper, Achille.
Blond.
Ah! he is a grand fellow, Mr. Farringdon. [Cis and Mr. Posket go into the other room.] [To Isidore.] Replace the canapé.
[There is a sharp knock at the other door. Blond follows Cis and Mr. Posket into the other room, then locks the door on the inside.
Isidore.
Come in, please.
Colonel Lukyn and Captain Vale enter the room. Lukyn is a portly, grey-haired, good-looking military man; Vale is pale-faced and heavy-eyed, while his manner is languid and dejected.
Lukyn.
This is the room. Come in, Vale. This is my old supper-room—I haven’t set foot here for over twenty years. By George, I hope to sup here for another twenty.
Vale.
[Dejectedly.] Do you? In less than that, unless I am lucky enough to fall in some foreign set-to, I shall be in Kensal Green.
Lukyn.
[Looking round the room sentimentally.] Twenty years ago! Confound ’em, they’ve painted it.
Vale.
My people have eight shelves in the Catacombs at Kensal Green.
Lukyn.
Nonsense, man, nonsense. You’re a little low. Waiter, take our coats.
Vale.
Don’t check me, Lukyn. My shelf is four from the bottom.
Lukyn.
You’ll forget the number of your shelf before you’re half way through your oysters.
Vale.
[Shaking his head.] An oyster merely reminds me of my own particular shell.
[Isidore begins to remove Vale’s coat.
Lukyn.
Ha, ha! Ha, ha!
Vale.
Don’t, Lukyn, don’t. [In an undertone to Lukyn.] It’s very good of you, but, by Jove, my heart is broken. [To Isidore.] Mind my flower, waiter, confound you.
[He adjusts flower in his button-hole.
Isidore.
You have ordered supper, sir?
Lukyn.
Yes, on the back of my note to Mr. Blond. Serve it at once.
Isidore.
I beg your pardon, sir, at once.
[He goes out.
Lukyn.
So, you’ve been badly treated by a woman, eh, Vale?
Vale.
Shockingly. Between man and man, a Miss Verrinder—Charlotte. [Turning away.] Excuse me, Lukyn.
[Produces a folded silk handkerchief, shakes it out, and gently blows his nose.
Lukyn.
[Lighting a cigarette.] Certainly—certainly—does you great credit. Pretty woman?
Vale.
Oh, lovely! A most magnificent set of teeth. All real, as far as I can ascertain.
Lukyn.
No?
Vale.
Fact.
Lukyn.
Great loss;—have a cigarette.
Vale.
[Taking case from Lukyn.] Parascho’s?
Lukyn.
Yes. Was she—full grown?
Vale.
[Lighting his cigarette.] Just perfection. She rides eight-stone fifteen, and I have lost her, Lukyn. Beautiful tobacco.
Lukyn.
What finished it?
Vale.
She gave a man a pair of worked slippers three days after our engagement.
Lukyn.
No?
Vale.
Fact. You remember Bristow—Gordon Bristow?
Lukyn.
Perfectly. Best fellow in the world.
Vale.
He wears them.
Lukyn.
Villain! Will you begin with a light wine, or go right on to the champagne?
Vale.
By Jove, it’s broken my heart, old fellow. I’ll go right on to the champagne, please. Lukyn, I shall make you my executor.
Lukyn.
Pooh! You’ll outlive me! Why don’t they bring the supper? My heart has been broken like yours. It was broken first in Ireland in ’55. It was broken again in London in ’61, but in 1870 it was smashed in Calcutta, by a married lady that time.
Vale.
A married lady?
Lukyn.
Yes, my late wife. Talk about broken hearts, my boy, when you’ve won your lady, not when you’ve lost her. [Enter Isidore with a tray of supper things.] The supper. [To Vale.] Hungry?
Vale.
[Mournfully.] Very.
Enter Blond, with an envelope.
Blond.
Colonel Lukyn.
Lukyn.
Ah, Blond, how are you? Not a day older. What have you got there?
Blond.
[Quietly to Lukyn in an undertone.] Two ladies, Colonel, downstairs in a cab, must see you for a few minutes alone.
Lukyn.
Good gracious! Excuse me, Vale. [Takes the envelope from Blond, and opens it: reading the enclosed card.] Mrs. Posket—Mrs. Posket! “Mrs. Posket entreats Colonel Lukyn to see her for five minutes upon a matter of urgent necessity, and free from observation.” By George! Posket must be ill in bed—I thought he looked seedy last night. [To Blond.] Of course—of course. Say I’ll come down.
Blond.
It is raining outside. I had better ask them up.
Lukyn.
Do—do. I’ll get Captain Vale to step into another room. Be quick. Tell ’em I am quite alone.
Blond.
Yes, Colonel.
[Hurries out.
Cis.
[In the next room rattling glasses and calling.] Waiter! Waiter! Waiter-r-r! Where the deuce are you?
Isidore.
Coming, sir, coming. I beg your pardon.
[Bustles out.
Lukyn.
My dear Vale, I am dreadfully sorry to bother you. Two ladies, one the wife of a very old friend of mine, have followed me here and want half a dozen words with me alone. I am in your hands—how can I manage it?
Vale.
My dear fellow, don’t mention it. Let me go into another room.
Lukyn.
Thank you, very much. You’re so hungry too. Where’s the waiter? Confound him, he’s gone!
Vale.
All right. I’ll pop in here.
[He passes behind sofa and tries the door leading into the other room.
Cis.
[Within.] What do you want? Who’s there?
Vale.
Occupied—never mind—I’ll find my way somewhere.
[There is a knock; Vale draws back.
Blond.
[Without.] Colonel, are you alone? The ladies.
Lukyn.
One moment. Deuce take it, Vale! The ladies don’t want to be seen. By George—I remember. There’s a little balcony to that window; step out for a few moments—keep quiet—I shan’t detain you—it’s nothing important—husband must have had a fit or something.
Vale.
Oh, certainly!
Lukyn.
Good fellow—here’s your hat.
[In his haste he fetches his own hat.
Blond.
[Outside, knocking.] Colonel, Colonel!
Lukyn.
One moment. [Giving his hat to Vale.] Awfully sorry. You’re so hungry too. [Vale puts on the hat, which is much too large for him.] Ah, that’s my hat.
Vale.
My dear Lukyn—don’t mention it.
[Opening the window and going out.
Lukyn.
[Drawing the curtain over the recess.] Just room for him to stand like a man in a sentry-box. Come in, Blond.
Blond shows in Agatha and Charlotte, both wearing veils.
Agatha Posket.
[Agitated.] Oh, Colonel Lukyn!
Lukyn.
Pray compose yourself, pray compose yourself!
Agatha Posket.
What will you think?
Lukyn.
That I am perfectly enchanted.
Agatha Posket.
Thank you. [Pointing to Charlotte.] My sister.
[Lukyn and Charlotte bow.
Lukyn.
Be seated. Blond? [Softly to him.] Keep the waiter out till I ring—that’s all.
[The loud pattering of rain is heard.
Blond.
Yes, Colonel.
Lukyn.
Good gracious, Blond! What’s that?
Blond.
The rain outside. It is cats and dogs.
Lukyn.
[Horrified.] By George, is it? [To himself, looking towards window.] Poor devil! [To Blond.] There isn’t any method of getting off that balcony, is there?
Blond.
No—unless by getting on to it.
Lukyn.
What do you mean?
Blond.
It is not at all safe. Don’t use it.
[Lukyn stands horror-stricken; Blond goes out. Heavy rain is heard.
Lukyn.
[After some nervous glances at the window, wiping perspiration from his forehead.] I am honoured, Mrs. Posket, by this visit—though for a moment—I can’t imagine——
Agatha Posket.
Colonel Lukyn, we drove to Cork Street to your lodgings, and there your servant told us you were supping at the Hotel des Princes, with a friend. No one will be shown into this room while we are here?
Lukyn.
No—we—ah—shall not be disturbed. [To himself.] Good heavens, suppose I never see him alive again!
Agatha Posket.
[Sighing wearily.] Ah!
Lukyn.
I’m afraid you’ve come to tell me Posket is ill.
Agatha Posket.
I—no—my husband is at home.
[A sharp gust of wind is heard with the rain.
Lukyn.
Lord forgive me! I’ve killed him.
Agatha Posket.
[With horror.] Colonel Lukyn!
Lukyn.
Madam!
Agatha Posket.
Indeed Mr. Posket is at home.
Lukyn.
[Glancing at the window.] Is he? I wish we all were.
Agatha Posket.
[To herself.] Sunstroke evidently. Poor fellow! [To Lukyn.] I assure you my husband is at home, quite well, and by this time sleeping soundly.
[Cis and Mr. Posket are heard laughing in the next room.
Isidore.
[Within.] You are two funny gentlemen, I beg your pardon.
Agatha Posket.
[Startled.] What is that?
Lukyn.
In the next room. [Raps at the door.] Hush—hush, hush!
Charlotte.
Get it over, Aggy, and let us go home. I am so awfully hungry.
Lukyn.
[Peering through the curtains.] It is still bearing him. What’s his weight? Surely he can’t scale over ten stone. Lord, how wet he is!
Agatha Posket.
Colonel Lukyn!
Lukyn.
[Leaving the window sharply.] Madam, command me!
Agatha Posket.
Colonel Lukyn, we knew each other at Baroda twenty years ago.
Lukyn.
When I look at you, impossible.
Agatha Posket.
Ah, then you mustn’t look at me.
Lukyn.
Equally impossible.
Charlotte.
[To herself.] Oh, I feel quite out of this.
Agatha Posket.
You were at my little boy’s christening.
Lukyn.
[Absently.] Yes—yes—certainly.
Agatha Posket.
You remember what a fine little fellow he was.
Lukyn.
[Thoughtfully.] Not a pound over ten stone.
Agatha Posket.
Colonel Lukyn!
Lukyn.
I beg your pardon, yes—I was at the christening of your boy.
Agatha Posket.
[To herself.] One of the worst cases of sunstroke I have ever known.
Lukyn.
I remember the child very well. Has he still got that absurd mug?
Agatha Posket.
Colonel Lukyn!
Lukyn.
Madam!
Agatha Posket.
My child is, and always was—perfect.
Lukyn.
You misunderstand me! I was his godfather; I gave him a silver cup.
Agatha Posket.
Oh, do excuse me. How did I become acquainted with such a vulgar expression? I don’t know where I pick up my slang. It must be through loitering at shop windows. Oh, oh, oh!
Lukyn.
Pray compose yourself. I’ll leave you for a moment.
[Going to the window.
Agatha Posket.
[To Charlotte.] How shall I begin, Charley?
Charlotte.
Make a bold plunge, do! The odour of cooking here, to a hungry woman, is maddening.
[Vale softly opens the window and comes into the recess, but remains concealed by the curtain.
Vale.
[To himself.] This is too bad of Lukyn! I’m wet to the skin and frightfully hungry! Who the deuce are these women?
Agatha Posket.
Colonel Lukyn!
Lukyn.
Madam. [Listening.] No crash yet.
Agatha Posket.
[Impulsively laying her hand upon his arm.] Friend of twenty years! I will be quite candid with you. You are going to dine with us, to-morrow?
Lukyn.
Madam, I will repay your candour as it deserves. I am.
Agatha Posket.
My husband knows of your acquaintance with the circumstances of my first marriage. I know what men are. When the women leave the dinner-table, men become retrospective. Now, to-morrow night, over dessert, I beg you not to give my husband dates.
Lukyn.
Eh?
Agatha Posket.
Keep anything like dates from him.
Lukyn.
Mustn’t eat stone fruit?
Agatha Posket.
No, I mean years, months, days, dates connected with my marriage with Mr. Farringdon.
Lukyn.
Dear me, sore subject!
Agatha Posket.
I will be more than candid with you. My present husband, having a very short vacation in the discharge of his public duties, wooed me but for three weeks; you, who have in your time courted and married, know the material of which that happy period is made up. The future is all-engrossing to the man; the presents—I mean the present, a joyous dream to the woman. But in dealing with my past I met with more than ordinary difficulties.
Lukyn.
Don’t see why—late husband died a natural death—wasn’t stood on a balcony or anything.
Agatha Posket.
Colonel Lukyn, you know I was six-and-thirty at the time of my recent marriage!
Lukyn.
You surprise me!
Agatha Posket.
You know it! Be frank, Lukyn! Am I not six-and-thirty?
Lukyn.
You are.
Agatha Posket.
Very well, then. In a three weeks’ engagement how was it possible for me to deal with the various episodes of six-and-thirty years? The past may be pleasant, golden, beautiful—but one may have too much of a good thing.
Lukyn.
[To himself.] I am in that position now.
Agatha Posket.
The man who was courting me was seeking relaxation from the discharge of multifarious responsibilities. How could I tax an already wearied attention with the recital of the events of thirty-six years?
Lukyn.
What did you do?
Agatha Posket.
Out of consideration for the man I loved, I sacrificed five years of happy girlhood—told him I was but one-and-thirty—that I had been married only fifteen years previously—that my boy was but fourteen!
Lukyn.
By George, madam, and am I to subscribe to all this?
Agatha Posket.
I only ask you to avoid the question of dates.
Lukyn.
But, at a man’s dinner-table——
Agatha Posket.
You need not spoil a man’s dinner. Not only a man’s—but a woman’s! Lukyn, Lukyn! Promise!
Lukyn.
Give me a second to think.
[Lukyn, turning away, discovers Charlotte in the act of lifting the covers from the dishes and inspecting the contents.
Lukyn.
Ah, devilled oysters!
Charlotte.
Oh!
[Drops dish-cover with a crash, and runs over to the table and speaks to Agatha Posket.
Lukyn.
Don’t go—pray look at ’em again—wish I could persuade you to taste them. What am I to do? Shall I promise? Poor Posket! If I don’t promise she’ll cry and won’t go home. The oysters are nearly cold—cold! What must he be! [Drawing aside the curtain, and not seeing Vale, he staggers back.] Gone—and without a cry—brave fellow, brave fellow!
Agatha Posket.
Colonel Lukyn.
Lukyn.
Decay of stamina in the army—pah! The young ’uns are worthy of our best days.
Agatha Posket.
Colonel Lukyn, will you promise?
Lukyn.
Promise? Anything, my dear madam, anything.
Agatha Posket.
Ah, thank you! May I ask you to see us to our cab?
Lukyn.
Certainly! Thank heaven, they’re going!
Agatha Posket.
[To Charlotte.] It’s all right; come along!
Charlotte.
[To Agatha Posket.] Oh, those oysters look so nice.
Lukyn.
[To himself.] Stop! In my trouble, I am forgetting even the commonest courtesies to these ladies. [To Agatha Posket.] You have a long journey before you. I am sure your husband would not forgive me for letting you face such weather unprepared. Let me recommend an oyster or two and a thimbleful of champagne.
Agatha Posket.
No, thank you, Colonel Lukyn.
Charlotte.
[To Agatha Posket.] Say yes. I’m starving.
Lukyn.
As you please. [To himself.] I knew they’d refuse. I’ve done my duty.
Charlotte.
[To Agatha Posket.] I was in the train till seven o’clock. Wait till you’re a boná-fide traveller—accept.
Agatha Posket.
Ahem! Colonel, the fact is my poor sister has been travelling all day and is a little exhausted.
Lukyn.
[Horrified.] You don’t mean to say you’re going to give me the inestimable pleasure. [Charlotte looks across at him, nodding and smiling.] I am delighted.
[Charlotte sits hungrily at table; Lukyn fetches a bottle of champagne from the sideboard.
Agatha Posket.
[To Charlotte.] Charlotte, I am surprised.
Charlotte.
[To Agatha Posket.] Nonsense, the best people come here. Some of them have left their names on the mirrors.
Vale.
[Behind the curtain.] This is much too bad of Lukyn. What are they doing now? [Lukyn draws the cork.] Confound it, they’re having my supper!
[Lukyn pours out wine.
Charlotte.
Why doesn’t he give me something to eat?
[There is a clatter of knives and forks heard from the other room, then a burst of laughter from Cis.
Agatha Posket.
[Starting.] Charley, hark! How strange!
Charlotte.
Very. This bread is beautiful.
[Cis is heard singing the chorus of a comic song boisterously.
Agatha Posket.
Don’t you recognise that voice?
Charlotte.
[Munching.] The only voice I recognise is the voice of hunger.
Agatha Posket.
I am overwrought, I suppose.
[Lukyn, with his head drooping, fetches the dish of oysters from the sideboard.
Vale.
[Behind the curtains.] He has taken the oysters. I’ve seen him do it.
Lukyn.
The oysters.
[Lukyn sinks into his chair at the table and leans his head upon his hand; the two women look at each other.
Charlotte.
[To Agatha Posket.] Anything wrong?
Agatha Posket.
Sunstroke—bad case!
Charlotte.
Oh—poor fellow. [She gently lifts the corner of the dish, sniffs, then replaces cover.] No plates.
Agatha Posket.
Ask for them.
Charlotte.
You ask.
Agatha Posket.
You’re hungry.
Charlotte.
You’re married. Comes better from you.
Vale.
[Behind curtains.] This silence is terrible.
Agatha Posket.
[To Lukyn.] Ahem! Ahem!
Lukyn.
[Looking up suddenly.] Eh?
Agatha Posket.
There are no plates.
Lukyn.
No plates? No plates? It’s my fault. Pardon me. Where are the plates?
[Vale, still invisible, stretches out his hand through the curtain, takes up the plates and presents them to Lukyn, who recoils.
Vale.
[In a whisper.] Here are the plates. Look sharp, Lukyn.
Lukyn.
Vale! safe and sound! [He takes the plates, then grasps Vale’s extended hand.] Bless you, old fellow. I’m myself again. [Going gaily to the table with the plates.] My dear ladies, I blush—I positively blush—I am the worst host in the world.
Vale.
[To himself.] By Jove, that’s true.
Agatha Posket.
Not at all—not at all.
Lukyn.
[Helping the ladies.] I’ll make amends, by George! You may have noticed I’ve been confoundedly out of sorts. That’s my temperament—now up, now down. I’ve just taken a turn, ha, ha! Oysters.
[Handing plate to Agatha Posket.
Agatha Posket.
Thank you.
Lukyn.
Ah! I’ve passed many a happy hour in this room. The present is not the least happy.
Charlotte.
[Trying to attract his attention.] Ahem! Ahem!
Lukyn.
[Gazing up at the ceiling.] My first visit to the Hotel des Princes was in the year—the year—let me think.
Charlotte.
[Whispering to Agatha Posket.] Isn’t he going to help me?
Lukyn.
Was it in ’55?
Agatha Posket.
[Quickly passing her plate over to Charlotte.] I’m not hungry.
Charlotte.
You’re a dear.
Lukyn.
[Emphatically.] It was in ’55. I’m forgetful again—pardon me. [He hands plate of oysters to Charlotte, and is surprised to find her eating vigorously.] Why, I thought I—— [To Agatha Posket.] My dear madam, a thousand apologies. [He helps her and then himself.] Pah! they’re cold—icy—you could skate on ’em. There’s a dish of something else over there.
[He goes to the sideboard; Vale’s hand is again stretched forth with the other covered dish.
Vale.
I say, Lukyn.
Lukyn.
[Taking the dish.] Thanks, old fellow. [He returns to the table and lifts the cover.] Soles—they look tempting. If there are only some lemons! Surely they are not so brutal as to have forgotten the lemons. Where are they? [He returns to the sideboard.] Where are they? [In an undertone to Vale.] Have you seen any lemons?
Agatha Posket.
Pray, think less of us, Colonel Lukyn. Let me take care of you.
Lukyn.
You’re very kind. I wish you would let me ring for some lemons.
[Vale’s hand comes as before from behind the curtain to the sideboard, finds the dish of lemons, and holds it out at arm’s length.
Vale.
[In a whisper.] Lemons.
[Agatha Posket is helping Lukyn, when suddenly Charlotte, with her fork in the air, leans back open-mouthed, staring wildly at Vale’s arm extended with the dish.
Charlotte.
[In terror.] Agatha! Agatha!
Agatha Posket.
Charlotte! what’s the matter, Charley?
Charlotte.
Agatha!
Agatha Posket.
You’re ill, Charlotte! Surely you are not choking?
Charlotte.
[Pointing to the curtains.] Look, look!
[They both scream.
Lukyn.
Don’t be alarmed—I——
Charlotte. }
What’s that? }
}[Together.]
Agatha Posket. }
Who’s that? }
Lukyn.
I can explain. Don’t condemn till you’ve heard. I—I—— Damn it, sir, put these lemons down!
Charlotte.
He calls him “Sir”—it must be a man.
Lukyn.
It is a man. I am not in a position to deny that.
Agatha Posket.
Really, Colonel Lukyn!
Lukyn.
It is my friend. He—he—he’s merely waiting for his supper.
Agatha Posket.
Your friend. [To Charlotte.] Come home, dear.
Lukyn.
Do, do hear me! To avoid the embarrassment of your encountering a stranger, he retreated to the balcony.
Agatha Posket.
To the balcony? You have shamefully compromised two trusting women, Colonel Lukyn.
Lukyn.
I would have laid down my life rather than have done so. I did lay down my friend’s life.
Agatha Posket.
He has overheard every confidential word I have spoken to you.
Lukyn.
Hear his explanation. Why the devil don’t you corroborate me, sir?
Vale.
[From behind the curtain.] Certainly, I assure you I heard next to nothing.
Charlotte.
[Grasping Agatha Posket’s arm.] Oh, Agatha!
Vale.
I didn’t come in till I was exceedingly wet.
Lukyn.
[To Agatha Posket.] You hear that?
Vale.
And when I did come in——
Charlotte.
[Hysterically.] Horace!
Vale.
I beg your pardon.
Charlotte.
It’s Horace, Captain Vale.
Vale.
[Coming from behind the curtain, looking terribly wet.] Charlotte—Miss Verrinder.
Charlotte.
What are you doing here? What a fright you look.
Vale.
What am I doing here, Miss Verrinder? Really, Lukyn, your conduct calls for some little explanation.
Lukyn.
My conduct, sir?
Vale.
You make some paltry excuse to turn me out in the rain while you entertain a lady who you know has very recently broken my heart.
Lukyn.
I didn’t know anything of the kind.
Vale.
I told you, Colonel Lukyn—this isn’t the conduct of an officer and a gentleman.
Lukyn.
Whose isn’t, yours or mine?
Vale.
Mine. I mean yours.
Lukyn.
You are in the presence of ladies, sir; take off my hat.
Vale.
I beg your pardon. I didn’t know I had it on.
[He throws the hat away, and the two men exchange angry words.
Charlotte.
He’s a very good-looking fellow; you don’t see a man at his best when he’s wet through.
Agatha Posket.
[To Lukyn.] Colonel Lukyn, do you ever intend to send for a cab?
Lukyn.
Certainly, madam.
Vale.
One moment. I have some personal explanation to exchange with Miss Verrinder.
Charlotte.
[To Agatha Posket.] The slippers. [To Vale.] I am quite ready, Captain Vale.
Vale.
Thank you. Colonel Lukyn, will you oblige me by stepping out on to that balcony?
Lukyn.
Certainly not, sir.
Vale.
You’re afraid of the wet, Colonel Lukyn; you are no soldier.
Lukyn.
You know better, sir. As a matter of fact, that balcony can’t bear a man like me.
Vale.
Which shows that inanimate objects have a great deal of common-sense, sir.
Lukyn.
You don’t prove it in your own instance, Captain Vale.
Vale.
That’s a verbal quibble, sir.
[They talk angrily.
Agatha Posket.
[To Charlotte.] It’s frightfully late. Tell him to write to you.
Charlotte.
I must speak to him to-night; life is too short for letters.
Agatha Posket.
Then he can telegraph.
Charlotte.
Half-penny a word and he has nothing but his pay.
Agatha Posket.
Very well, then, Lady Jenkins has a telephone. I’ll take you there to tea to-morrow. If he loves you, tell him to ring up 1338091.
Charlotte.
You thoughtful angel!
Lukyn.
Mrs. Posket—Miss Verrinder—ahem—we——
Vale.
Colonel Lukyn and myself——
Lukyn.
Captain Vale and I fear that we have been betrayed, in a moment of——
Vale.
Natural irritation.
Lukyn.
Natural irritation, into the atrocious impropriety of differing——
Vale.
Before ladies.
Lukyn.
Charming ladies——
Vale.
We beg your pardon—Lukyn!
Lukyn.
Vale. [They grasp hands.] Mrs. Posket, I am now going out to hail a cab.
Agatha Posket.
Pray do.
Lukyn.
Miss Verrinder, the process will occupy five minutes.
Vale.
[Giving his hat to Lukyn.] Lukyn, I return your kindness—my hat.
Lukyn.
Thank you, my boy.
[Lukyn puts on Vale’s hat, which is much too small for him. As he is going out there is a knock at the door; he opens it; Blond is outside.
Blond.
Colonel, it is ten minutes past the time of closing, may I ask you to dismiss your party?
Lukyn.
Pooh! Isn’t this a free country?
[He goes out.
Blond.
Yes, you are free to go home, Colonel. I shall get into trouble.
[Following him out.
Charlotte.
[To Agatha Posket.] I’ll have the first word. Really, Captain Vale, I’m surprised at you.
Vale.
There was a happy time, Miss Verrinder, when I might have been surprised at you.
Charlotte.
A few hours ago it was—“By Jove, all is over.” Now I find you with a bosom friend enjoying devilled oysters.
Vale.
I beg your pardon, I find you enjoying devilled oysters.
Charlotte.
Horace Vale, you forget you have forfeited the right to exercise any control over my diet.
Vale.
One would think I had broken off our engagement.
Charlotte.
If you have not, who has? I have your letter saying all is over between us. [Putting her handkerchief to her eyes.] That letter will be stamped tomorrow at Somerset House. I know how to protect myself.
Vale.
Charlotte, can you explain your conduct with Gordon Bristow?
Charlotte.
I could if I chose; a young lady can explain anything.
Vale.
But he is showing your gift to our fellows all over the place.
Charlotte.
It was a debt of honour. He laid me a box of gloves to a pair of slippers about “Forked Lightning” for the Regimental Cup, and “Forked Lightning” went tender at the heel. I couldn’t come to you with debts hanging over me. [Crying.] I’m too conscientious.
Vale.
By Jove, I’ve been a brute.
Charlotte.
Y-y-yes.
Vale.
Can you forget I ever wrote that letter?
Charlotte.
That must be a question of time. [She lays her head on his shoulder and then removes it.] How damp you are. [She puts her handkerchief upon his shoulder, and replaces her head. She moves his arm gradually up and arranges it round her shoulder.] If you went on anyhow every time I discharged an obligation, we should be most unhappy.
Vale.
I promise you I won’t mention Bristow’s slippers again. By Jove, I won’t—there.
Charlotte.
Very well, then, if you do that I’ll give you my word I won’t pay any more debts before our marriage.
Vale.
My darling!
[About to embrace him, but remembering that he is wet.
Charlotte.
No—no—you are too damp.
Isidore.
[Outside.] I beg your pardon, it is a quarter of an hour over our time.
[Agatha Posket has been sitting on the sofa; suddenly she starts, listening intently.
Mr. Posket.
[Outside.] I know—I know. I’m going directly I can get the boy away.
Agatha Posket.
[To herself.] Æneas!
Cis.
[Outside.] All right, Guv, you finish your bottle.
Agatha Posket.
My boy.
Isidore.
[Outside.] Gentlemen, come—come.
Agatha Posket.
[To herself.] Miserable deceiver! This, then, is the club, and the wretched man conspires to drag my boy down to his own awful level. What shall I do? I daren’t make myself known here. I know; I’ll hurry home, and if I reach there before Æneas, which I shall do, I’ll sit up for him.
Lukyn returns.
Agatha Posket.
Is the cab at the door?
Lukyn.
It is.
Agatha Posket.
Charlotte! Charlotte!
[Drawing her veil down.
Charlotte.
I’m ready, dear. [To Vale.] Married sisters are always a little thoughtless.
Vale.
[Offering his arm.] Permit me.
Lukyn.
[Offering his arm to Agatha Posket.] My dear madam.
They are all four about to leave when Blond enters hurriedly.
Blond.
[Holding up his hand for silence.] Hush! Hush!
Lukyn.
What’s the matter?
Blond.
The police!
All.
[In a whisper.] The police!
Blond.
[Quietly.] The police are downstairs at the door. I told you so.
Charlotte.
[Clinging to Vale.] Oh, dear! Oh, dear!
Agatha Posket.
Gracious powers!
Blond.
Keep quiet, please. They may be satisfied with Madame Blond’s assurances. I must put you in darkness; they can see the light here if they go round to the back.
[Blows out candles, and turns down the other lights.
Agatha Posket and Charlotte.
Oh!
Blond.
Keep quiet, please! My licence is once marked already. Colonel Lukyn, thank you for this.
[He goes out.
Agatha Posket.
[Whimpering.] Miserable men! What have you done? Are you criminals?
Charlotte.
You haven’t deserted or anything on my account, have you, Horace?
Lukyn.
Hush! Don’t be alarmed. Our time has passed so agreeably that we have overstepped the prescribed hour for closing the hotel. That’s all.
Agatha Posket.
What can they do to us?
Lukyn.
At the worst, take our names and addresses, and summon us for being here during prohibited hours.
Agatha Posket.
Oh!
Charlotte.
[To Vale.] Horace, can’t you speak?
Vale.
By Jove, I very much regret this.
Isidore enters.
Lukyn.
Well, well?
Isidore.
I beg your pardon, the police have come in.
Lukyn.
The devil! [To Agatha Posket.] My dear lady, don’t faint at such a moment.
Blond enters quickly, carrying a rug.
Blond.
They are going over the house! Hide!
Agatha Posket and Charlotte.
Oh!
[There is a general commotion.
Blond.
They have put a man at the back. Keep away from the window. [They are all bustling, and everybody is talking in whispers; Lukyn places Agatha Posket under the table, where she is concealed by the cover; he gets behind the overcoats hanging from the pegs; Vale and Charlotte crouch down behind sofa.] Thank you very much. I am going to put Isidore to bed on the sofa. That will explain the light which has just gone out. [Isidore quietly places himself upon the sofa; Blond covering him with the rug.] Thank you very much.
[He goes out.
Agatha Posket.
[In a stifled voice.] Charley! Charley!
Charlotte.
Yes.
Agatha Posket.
Where are you?
Charlotte.
Here.
Agatha Posket.
Oh, where is Captain Vale?
Charlotte.
I think he’s near me.
Vale.
By Jove, Charlotte, I am!
Agatha Posket.
Colonel Lukyn!
Lukyn.
[From behind the coats.] Here, madam!
Agatha Posket.
Don’t leave us.
Lukyn.
Madam, I am a soldier.
Charlotte.
[To Vale.] Oh, Horace, at such a moment what a comfort we must be to each other.
Vale.
My dear Charlotte, it’s incalculable.
[Isidore gently raises himself and looks over the back of sofa.
Charlotte.
[In terror.] What’s that?
Isidore.
[Softly.] I beg your pardon.
Blond enters quietly, followed by Cis and Mr. Posket on tip-toe, Mr. Posket holding on to Cis.
Blond.
This way; be quick. Excuse me, the police are just entering the room in which these gentlemen were having supper. One of them is anxious not to be asked any questions. Please to hide him and his friend somewhere. They are both very nice gentlemen.
[He goes out, leaving Cis and Mr. Posket.
Mr. Posket.
Cis, Cis. Advise me, my boy, advise me.
Cis.
It’s all right, Guv, it’s all right. Get behind something.
[Agatha Posket peeps from under the table-cloth.
Agatha Posket.
Æneas, and my child!
[Mr. Posket and Cis wander about, looking for hiding-places.
Vale.
[To Cis.] Go away.
Cis.
Oh!
Lukyn.
[To Mr. Posket, who is fumbling at the coats.] No, no.
Blond.
[Popping his head in.] The police—coming.
[Cis disappears behind the window-curtain. Mr. Posket dives under the table.
Agatha Posket.
Oh!
Mr. Posket.
[To Agatha Posket in a whisper.] I beg your pardon. I think I am addressing a lady. I am entirely the victim of circumstances. Accept my apologies for this apparent intrusion. [No answer.] Madam, I applaud your reticence, though any statement made under the present circumstances would not be used against you. Where is that boy? Oh! Madam, it may be acute nervousness on your part, but you are certainly pinching my arm.
[There is the sound of heavy feet outside, then Messiter, a gruff matter-of-fact Inspector of Police, enters, followed by Harris, a constable, and Achille Blond.
Blond.
You need not trouble yourself—take my word for it.
Messiter.
No trouble, Mr. Blond, thank you. [Sniffing.] Candles—blown out—lately. This is where the light was.
Blond.
Perhaps. My servant, Isidore, sleeps here; he has only just gone to bed.
Messiter.
Oh! [Taking a bull’s-eye lantern from Harris and throwing the light on Isidore, who is apparently sleeping soundly.] Dead tired, I suppose?
Blond.
I suppose so.
Messiter.
[Slightly turning down the covering.] He sleeps in his clothes?
Blond.
Oh yes.
Messiter.
Always?
Blond.
Always—it is a rule of the hotel.
Messiter.
Oh!—why’s that?
Blond.
To be ready for the morning.
Messiter.
All right—all right. [Throwing the rug and blanket aside.] Isidore, go downstairs and give your full name and particulars to Sergeant Jarvis.
Isidore.
[Rising instantly.] Yes, sir—very good.
Blond.
[To Isidore.] Why do you wake up so soon? Devil take you!
Isidore.
I beg your pardon.
[He goes out.
Messiter.
What is underneath that window, Mr. Blond?
Blond.
The skylight over the kitchen—devil take it!
Messiter.
Thank you—you can go down to the sergeant now, Mr. Blond.
Blond.
With pleasure—devil take me!
[He goes out.
Messiter.
Now then, Harris.
Harris.
Yes, sir.
Messiter.
Keep perfectly still and hold your breath as long as you can.
Harris.
Hold my breath, sir?
Messiter.
Yes—I want to hear how many people are breathing in this room. Are you ready?
Harris.
Yes, sir.
Messiter.
Go! [Harris stands still, tightly compressing his lips; Messiter quickly examines his face by the light of the lantern, then walks round the room, listening, and nodding his head with satisfaction as he passes the various hiding-places. Harris writhes in agony; in the end he gives it up and breathes heavily.] Harris!
Harris.
[Exhausted.] Yes, sir!
Messiter.
You’re breathing.
Harris.
Oh lor’, yes, sir!
Messiter.
You’ll report yourself to-night!
Harris.
I held on till I nearly went off, sir.
Messiter.
[Giving him the bull’s-eye.] Don’t argue, but light up. There are half a dozen people concealed in this room. [There is a cry from the women. Charlotte and Vale rise; Lukyn steps from behind the coats.] I thought so. [As Messiter turns, Agatha Posket and Mr. Posket rise, Cis comes quickly, catches hold of Mr. Posket, and drags him across to the window.]
Cis.
[To Mr. Posket.] Come on, Guv. Come on!
[They disappear through the curtain as Harris turns up the lights. Then then is a cry and the sound of a crash.
Agatha Posket.
They’re killed!
[Messiter looks through the window.
Messiter.
No, they’re not; they’ve gone into the kitchen and the balcony with them. Look sharp, Harris.
[Harris goes out quickly.
Lukyn.
[To Messiter.] I shall report you for this, sir.
Messiter.
[Taking out his note-book.] Very sorry, sir; it’s my duty.
Lukyn.
Duty, sir! Coming your confounded detective tricks on ladies and gentlemen! How dare you make ladies and gentlemen suspend their breathing till they nearly have apoplexy? Do you know I’m a short-necked man, sir?
Messiter.
I didn’t want you to leave off breathing, sir. I wanted you to breathe louder. Your name and address, sir.
Lukyn.
Gur-r-r-h!
Messiter.
Army gentleman, sir?
Lukyn.
How do you know that?
Messiter.
Short style of speaking, sir. Army gentlemen run a bit brusquish when on in years.
Lukyn.
Oh! Alexander Lukyn—Colonel—Her Majesty’s Cheshire Light Infantry, late 41st Foot, 3rd Battalion—Bengal—Retired.
Messiter.
[Writing.] Hotel or club, Colonel?
Lukyn.
Neither. 19A, Cork Street—lodgings.
Messiter.
[Writing.] Very nice part, Colonel. Thank you.
Lukyn.
Bah!
Messiter.
Other gentleman?
Vale.
[With languid hauteur.] Horace Edmund Cholmeley Clive Napier Vale. Captain—Shropshire Fusiliers—Stark’s Hotel, Conduit Street.
Messiter.
[Writing.] Retired, sir?
Vale.
No, confound you—active!
Messiter.
Thank you, Captain. Ahem! Beg pardon. The—the ladies.
[Charlotte clings to Vale, Agatha Posket to Lukyn.
Charlotte and Agatha Posket.
No—no! No—no!
Lukyn.
[To Agatha Posket.] All right—all right—trust to me! [To Messiter.] Well, sir?
Messiter.
Names and addresses, please.
Lukyn.
Officer—my good fellow—tell me now—er—um—at the present moment, what are you most in want of?
Messiter.
These two ladies’ names and addresses, please. Be quick, Colonel. [Pointing to Agatha Posket.] That lady first.
Lukyn.
Christian names—er—ah—er—Alice Emmeline.
Messiter.
[Writing.] Alice Emmeline. Surname?
Lukyn.
Er—um—Fitzgerald—101, Wilton Street, Piccadilly.
Messiter.
Single lady?
Lukyn.
Quite.
Messiter.
Very good, sir.
Agatha Posket.
[To Lukyn, tearfully.] Oh, thank you, such a nice address too.
Messiter.
[To Vale.] Now, Captain, please—that lady.
Vale.
[Who has been re-assuring Charlotte.] Haw! ha! this lady is—ah—um—the other lady’s sister.
Messiter.
Single lady, sir?
Vale.
Certainly.
Messiter.
[Writing.] Christian name, Captain?
Vale.
Ah—um—Harriett.
Messiter.
[Writing.] Surname.
Vale.
Er—Macnamara.
Messiter.
[With a grim smile.] Quite so. Lives with her sister, of course, sir?
Vale.
Of course.
Messiter.
Where at, sir?
Vale.
Albert Mansions, Victoria Street.
Charlotte.
[To Vale.] Oh, thank you, I always fancied that spot.
Messiter.
Very much obliged, gentlemen,
Lukyn.
[Who has listened to Vale’s answers in helpless horror.] By George, well out of it!
[Charlotte totters across to Agatha Posket, who embraces her.
Lukyn.
[Taking down the overcoats and throwing one to Vale.] Vale, your coat.
Harris enters.
Harris.
[To Messiter.] Very sorry, sir; the two other gentlemen got clean off, through the back scullery door—old hands, to all appearance.
[Messiter stamps his foot, with an exclamation.
Agatha Posket.
[To herself.] My boy—saved!
Lukyn.
[To Harris, who stands before the door.] Constable, get out of the way.
Messiter.
[Sharply.] Harris!
Harris.
[Without moving.] Yes, sir.
Messiter.
You will leave the hotel with these ladies, and not lose sight of them till you’ve ascertained what their names are, and where they do live.
Lukyn and Vale.
What!
Agatha Posket and Charlotte.
Oh!
Messiter.
Your own fault, gentlemen; it’s my duty.
Lukyn.
And it is my duty to save these helpless women from the protecting laws of my confounded country! Vale!
Vale.
[Putting his coat on the sofa.] Active!
Lukyn.
[To Harris.] Let these ladies pass! [He takes Harris by the collar and flings him over to Vale, who throws him over towards the ladies, who push him away. Messiter puts a whistle to his mouth and blows; there is an immediate answer from without.] More of your fellows outside?
Messiter.
Yes, sir, at your service. Very sorry, gentlemen, but you and your party are in my custody.
Lukyn and Vale.
What?
Agatha Posket and Charlotte.
Oh!
Messiter.
For assaulting this man in the execution of his duty.
Lukyn.
You’ll dare to lock us up all night?
Messiter.
It’s one o’clock now, Colonel—you’ll come on first thing in the morning.
Lukyn.
Come on? At what Court?
Messiter.
Mulberry Street.
Agatha Posket.
Ah! The magistrate?
Messiter.
Mr. Posket, mum.
[Agatha Posket sinks into a chair, Charlotte at her feet; Lukyn, overcome, falls on Vale’s shoulders.
END OF THE SECOND ACT.