SCENE
The scene shows the interior of the sitting room of a suite in a New York hotel of the class of the Hotel Astor or Claridge. In the back wall a door opens into what is the bedroom of the suite. The hinges of this door are on the right, the door knob on the left. On the wall on either side of the door is hung a framed copy of a picture by Gibson or Christy. In the left wall, half way down, is a door leading to the hall. Higher up against the wall is a writing desk on which are writing materials and a hand telephone. Above this pinned to the wall is a blue-print map. In front of the desk is a gilt chair without arms. Above and to the right of the gilt chair is a Morris chair facing the audience. In the seat of the chair is a valise; over the back hangs a man's coat.
In the right wall are two windows with practical blinds. Below them against the wall, stretches a leather sofa. On it is a suitcase, beside it on the floor a pair of men's boots. Below the sofa and slightly to the left stands a table, sufficiently heavy to bear the weight of a man leaning against it. On this table are magazines, a man's sombrero, a box of safety matches, a pitcher of ice water and a glass, and hanging over the edge of the table, in view of the audience, are two blue prints held down by pieces of ore. The light that comes through the two windows is of a sunny day in August.
WHEN THE CURTAIN RISES
RICHARD FALLON is discovered at table arranging the specimens of ore upon the blue prints. He is a young man of thirty-five, his face is deeply tanned, his manner is rough and breezy. He is without a coat, and his trousers are held up by a belt. He is smoking a cigar.
FALLON crosses to Morris chair, opens valise, turns over papers, clothing, fails to find that for which he is looking and closes the valise. He recrosses to suit case which is at lower end of the sofa. He breaks it open and searches through more papers, shirts, coats. Takes out another blue print, tightly rolled. Unrolls it, studies it, and apparently satisfied, with his left hand, places it on table.
In attempting to close the suit case the half nearer the audience slips over the foot of the sofa, and there falls from it to the floor, a heavy "bull dog" revolver. FALLON stares at it, puzzled, as though trying to recall when he placed it in his suit case. Picks it up. Looks at it. Throws it carelessly into suit case and shuts it. His manner shows he attaches no importance to the revolver. He now surveys the blue prints and the specimens of ore, as might a hostess, who is expecting guests, survey her dinner table. He crosses to hand telephone.
FALLON: (To 'phone.) Give me the room clerk, please. Hello? This is Mr. Fallon. I'm expecting two gentlemen at five o'clock. Send them right up. And, not now, but when they come, send me up a box of your best cigars and some rye and seltzer. Thank you. (Starts to leave telephone, but is recalled.) What? A lady? I don't know any. I don't know a soul in New York! What's her name? What—Mrs. Tom Howard? For heaven's sake! Tell her I'll be there in one second! What? Why certainly! Tell her to come right up. (He rises, muttering joyfully.) Well, well, well!
(Takes his coat from chair and puts it on. Lifts valise from chair and places it behind writing desk. Kicks boots under sofa. Places cigar on edge of table in view of audience. Looks about for mirror and finding none, brushes his hair with his hands, and arranges his tie. Goes to door L. and opens it, expectantly.)
MRS. HOWARD enters. She is a young woman of thirty. Her face is sweet, sad, innocent. She is dressed in white—well, but simply. Nothing about her suggests anything of the fast, or adventuress type.
Well, Helen! This is fine! God bless you, this is the best thing that's come my way since I left Alaska. And I never saw you looking better.
MRS. HOWARD: (Taking his hand.) And, it's good to see you, Dick. (She staggers and sways slightly as though about to faint.) Can I sit down? (She moves to Morris chair and sits back in it.)
FALLON: (In alarm.) What is it? Are you ill?
MRS. HOWARD: No, I'm—I'm so glad to find you—I was afraid! I was afraid I wouldn't find you, and I had to see you. (Leaning forward, in great distress.) I'm in trouble, Dick—terrible trouble.
FALLON: (Joyfully.) And you've come to me to help you?
MRS. HOWARD: Yes.
FALLON: That's fine! That's bully. I thought, maybe, you'd just come to talk over old times. (Eagerly.) And that would have been fine, too, understand—but if you've come to me because you're in trouble, then I know you're still my good friend, my dear old pal. (Briskly.) Now, listen, you say you're in trouble. Well, you knew me when I was down and out in San Francisco, living on free lunches and chop suey. Now, look at me, Helen, I'm a bloated capitalist. I'm a millionaire.
MRS. HOWARD: (Nervously.) I know, Dick, and I'm so glad! That's how I knew you were here, I read about you this morning in the papers.
FALLON: And half they said is true, too. See those blue prints? Each one of them means a gold mine, and at five, I'm to unload them on some of the biggest swells in Wall Street. (Gently.) Now, all that that means is this: I don't know what your trouble is, but, if money can cure it, you haven't got any trouble.
MRS. HOWARD: Dick, you're just as generous and kind. You haven't changed in any way.
FALLON: I haven't changed toward you. How's that husband of yours?
(Jokingly.) I'd ought to shot that fellow.
MRS. HOWARD: (In distress.) That's why I came, Dick. Oh, Dick—
FALLON: (Anxiously, incredulously.) Don't tell me there's any trouble between you and Tom? Why, old Tom he just worships you. He loves you like—
MRS. HOWARD: That's it. And I want to keep his love.
FALLON: (Laughingly.) Keep his love? Is that all you've got to worry about? (Throughout the following scene, Mrs. Howard speaks in a fateful voice, like a woman beaten and hopeless.)
MRS. HOWARD: Dick, did you ever guess why I didn't marry you?
FALLON: No, I knew. You didn't marry me because you didn't love me, and you did love Tom.
MRS. HOWARD: No, I didn't know Tom then. And I thought I loved you, until I met Tom. But I didn't marry you, because it wouldn't have been honest—because, three years before I met you, I had lived with a man—as his wife.
FALLON: Helen! (His tone is one of amazement, but not of reproach. In his astonishment, he picks the cigar from the table, puffs at it standing and partly seated on the table.)
MRS. HOWARD: (In the same dead level, hopeless voice.) I was seventeen years old. I was a waiter girl at one of Fred Harvey's restaurants on the Santa Fe. I was married to this man before a magistrate. (Fallon lifts his head.) Three months later, when he'd grown tired of me, he told me the magistrate who had married us was not a magistrate but a friend of his, a man named Louis Mohun, and he brought this man to live with us. I should have left him then, that was where I did wrong. That was all I did that was wrong. But, I couldn't leave him, I couldn't, because I was going to be a mother—and in spite of what he had done—I begged him to marry me.
FALLON: And—he wouldn't?
MRS. HOWARD: Maybe he would—but—he was killed.
FALLON: (Eagerly.) You?
MRS. HOWARD. (In horror.) God, no!
FALLON: It's a pity. That's what you should have done.
MRS. HOWARD: He was a gambler, one night he cheated—the man he cheated, shot him. Then—my baby—died! After two years I came to San Francisco and met you and Tom. Then you went to Klondike and I married Tom.
FALLON: And, you told Tom?
MRS. HOWARD: (Lowering her face.)
FALLON: Helen!
MRS. HOWARP: I know, but I was afraid. I loved him so, and I was afraid.
FALLON: But Tom would have understood. Why, you thought you were married.
MRS. HOWARD: I was afraid. I loved him too much. I was too happy, and I was afraid I'd lose him. (FALLON shakes his head.) But, we were leaving San Francisco forever—to live in the East—where I thought no one knew me.
FALLON: Well?
MRS. HOWARD: Well, one man knew me. Mohun, the man who played the magistrate. He came East, too. Three years ago he saw me one night with Tom in a theatre. He followed us and found out where I lived. The next morning he came to see me, and threatened to tell! And, I was terrified, I lost my head and gave him money. (Slowly.) And I have been giving him money ever since.
FALLON: Helen! You! Fall for blackmail? Why, that isn't you. You're no coward! You should have told the swine to go to Hell, and as soon as Tom came home, you should have told him the whole story.
MRS. HOWARD: (Fiercely.) My story, yes! But not a story Mohun threatens to tell! In a week he had it all backed up with letters, telegrams, God knows what he didn't make me out to be—a vile, degraded creature.
FALLON: And who'd have believed it?
MRS. HOWARD: Everybody! He proved it! And my children. He threatened to stop my children on the way to school and explain to them what kind of a woman their mother was. So, I paid and paid and paid. I robbed Tom, I robbed the children. I cheated them of food, and clothes, I've seen Tom look almost ashamed of us. And when I'd taken all I'd dared from Tom, I pretended I wanted to be more independent, and I learned typewriting, and needlework and decorating, and I worked at night, and when Tom was at the office—to earn money—to give to Mohun. And each time he said it was the last, and each time he came back demanding more. God knows what he does with it, he throws it away—on drink, on women, opium.
FALLON: Dope fiend, too, hey?
MRS. HOWARD: He's that, too; he's everything that's vile; inhuman, pitiless, degenerate. Sometimes, I wonder why God lets him live. (Her voice drops to a whisper.) Sometimes, I almost pray to God to let him die. (FALLON who already has determined to kill MOHUN, receives this speech with indifference, and continues grimly to puff on his cigar.) He's killed my happiness, he's killing me. In keeping him alive, I've grown ill and old. I see the children growing away from me, I see Tom drawing away from me. And now, after all my struggles, after all my torture, Tom must be told. Mohun is in some new trouble. He must have a thousand dollars! I can no more give him a thousand dollars than I can give him New York City. But, if I don't, he'll tell! What am I to do?
FALLON: (Unmoved.) When did you see this—this thing last?
MRS. HOWARD: This morning. He'd read about you in the papers. He knows I knew you in San Francisco. He said you'd "struck it rich," and that you'd give me the money. (Rises, and comes to him.) But, get this straight, Dick. I didn't come here for money. I don't want money. I won't take money. I came to you because you are my best friend, and Tom's best friend, and because I need a man's brain, a man's advice.
FALLON: (Contemptuously.) Advice! Hell! Am I the sort of man that gives girls—advice? (With rough tenderness.) Now, you go home to Tom, and tell him I'm coming to dinner. (Impressively.) And leave this leech to me. And, don't worry. This thing never happened, it's just a bad dream, a nightmare. Just throw it from your shoulders like a miner drops his pack. It's never coming back into your life again.
MRS. HOWARD: (Earnestly.) No! I won't let you pay that man! He'd hound you, as he's hounded me!
FALLON: (Indignantly.) Pay him? Me? I haven't got enough money to pay him!
MRS. HOWARD: What!
FALLON: No man on earth has money enough to pay blackmail. Helen, this is what I think of a blackmailer: The lowest thing that crawls, is a man that sends a woman into the streets to earn money for him. Here, in New York, you call them "cadets." Now, there's only one thing on earth lower than a cadet, and that's the blackmailer, the man who gets money from a woman—by threatening her good name—who uses her past as a club—who drags out some unhappy act of hers for which she's repented, in tears, on her knees, which the world has forgotten, which God has forgiven. And, for that past sin, that's forgotten and forgiven, this blackguard crucifies her. And the woman—to protect her husband and her children, as you have done—to protect her own good name, that she's worked for and won, starves herself to feed that leech. And, you ask me, if I'm going to feed him, too! Not me! Helen, down in lower California, there are black bats, the Mexican calls "Vampire" bats. They come at night and fasten on the sides of the horses and drink their blood. And, in the morning when you come to saddle up, you'll find the horses too weak to walk, and hanging to their flanks these vampires, swollen and bloated and drunk with blood. Now, I've just as much sympathy for Mr. Mohun, as I have for those vampires, and, I'm going to treat him just as I treat them! Where is he?
MRS. HOWARD: Downstairs. In the cafe.
FALLON: Here, in this hotel?
MRS. HOWARD: Yes.
FALLON: (Half to himself.) Good!
MRS. HOWARD: He said he'd wait until I telephoned him that you would pay. If you won't, he's going straight to Tom.
FALLON: He is, is he? Helen, I hate to have you speak to him
again, but, unless he hears your voice, he won't come upstairs.
(Motions towards telephone.) Tell him I'll see him in ten minutes.
Tell him I've agreed to make it all right.
MRS. HOWARD: But, how, Dick, how?
FALLON: Don't you worry about that. I'm going to send him away.
Out of the country. He won't trouble you any more.
MRS. HOWARD: But he won't go. He's promised me to go many times—
FALLON: Yes, but he's not dealing with a woman, now, he's dealing with a man, with boots on. Do as I tell you.
(MRS. HOWARD sits at writing desk and takes receiver off telephone. FALLON leans against table right, puffing quickly on his cigar, and glancing impatiently at the valise that holds his revolver.)
MRS. HOWARD: Give me the cafe, please. Is this the cafe? I want to speak to a Mr. Mohun, he is waiting to be called up—oh, thank you. (To FALLON.) He's coming. (To 'phone.) I have seen that man and he says he'll take up that debt, and pay it. Yes, now, at once. You're to wait for ten minutes, until he can get the money, and then, he'll telephone you to come up. I don't know, I'll ask. (To Fallon.) He says it must be in cash.
FALLON: (Sarcastically.) Why, certainly! That'll be all right.
(MRS. HOWARD Places her hand over the mouth piece.)
MRS. HOWARD: I'll not let you pay him!
FALLON: I'm not going to! I'm going to give him just what's coming to him. Tell him, it'll be all right.
MRS. HOWARD: (To 'phone.) He says to tell you, it'll be all right. The room is 210 on the third floor. In ten minutes, yes. (She rises.)
FALLON: Now, then, you go back to Tom and get dinner ready. Don't forget I'm coming to dinner. And the children must come to dinner, too. We'll have a happy, good old-time reunion.
MRS. HOWARD: (With hand on door knob of door left.) Dick, how can
I thank you?
FALLON: Don't let me catch you trying.
MRS. HOWARD: God bless you, Dick. (With a sudden hope.) And you really believe you can make him go?
FALLON: Don't worry! I'm sure of it.
MRS. HOWARD: And, you think he won't come back?
FALLON: (After a pause, gravely.) I know he won't come back.
MRS. HOWARD: God bless you, Dick!
FALLON: See you at dinner.
(MRS. HOWARD exits. FALLON stands considering, and chewing on his cigar. Then, he crosses room briskly and lowers the blind at each window. Opens valise and examines revolver. Places the revolver in his left hip pocket. Then, in a matter-of-course manner from his right hand pocket, he draws his automatic pistol. This, as though assured he would find loaded, he examines in a quick, perfunctory way, and replaces. He crosses left to desk, and taking from it a cheque book, writes out a cheque, which he tears from the book, and holds in his right hand. With left hand he removes the receiver from the telephone.)
Give me Murray Hill 2828. Hello, is this the Corn and Grain Bank? I want to speak to the cashier. Hello, is that the cashier? This is Richard Fallon, of San Francisco, speaking from the Hotel Wisteria. I opened an account with you day before yesterday, for two hundred thousand dollars. Yes, this is Mr. Fallon speaking. I made out a cheque yesterday payable to Louis Mohun (Glances at cheque.), dated August 4th, for two thousand dollars. I want to know if he's cashed it in yet? He hasn't, hey? Good! (He continues to look at cheque, to impress upon audience, that the cheque they have just seen him write, is the one which he is speaking about.) Well, I want to stop payment on that cheque. Yes, yes. I made it out under pressure, and I've decided not to stand for it. Yes, sort of a hold up! I guess that's why he was afraid to cash it. You'll attend to that, will you? Thank you. Good-bye. (He takes an envelope from desk, places cheque in it and puts envelope in his breast pocket. Again takes off receiver.) Hello, give me the cashier, please. Am I speaking to the cashier of the hotel? This is Mr. Fallon in room 210. Is your hotel detective in the lobby? He is? Good! What—what sort of a man is he, is he a man I can rely on? A Pinkerton, hey? That's good enough! Well, I wish you'd give him a thousand dollars for me in hundreds. Ten hundred-dollar bills, and before you send them up, I wish you'd mark them and take their numbers. What? No, there's no trouble. I just want to see that the right bills go to the right people, that's all. Thank you.
(He crosses to door centre, and taking key from the bedroom side, places it in keyhole on side of door in view of the audience. He turns the key several times. He takes the revolver from his left hip pocket and holding it in his right hand, rehearses shooting under his left arm through his coat which he holds from him by the fingers of his left hand. Shifting revolver to his left hand, he takes the automatic from his right hip pocket, and goes through the motions of firing with both guns in opposite directions. His pantomine must show he intends making use of both guns at the same time, using one apparently upon himself, and the other, in earnest, upon another person. He replaces the revolvers in his pockets. There is a knock at the door.)
Come in.
(KELLY enters. In his hand he carries an envelope. He is an elderly man with grey hair, neatly dressed and carrying a straw hat. He has an air of authority. His manner to FALLON is respectful.)
KELLY: Afternoon, Mr. Fallon. I am Kelly, the house detective.
FALLON: Yes, I know. I've seen you in the lobby.
KELLY: Mr. Parmelee said I was to give you this. (Gives envelope to FALLON. FALLON takes out ten yellow-back bills.) There ought to be a thousand dollars there in hundreds.
FALLON: That's right. Now, will you just sit over there, and as
I read the numbers, you write them down.
KELLY: Mr. Parmelee made a note of the numbers, Mr. Fallon.
FALLON: I know. I want you to identify them too.
KELLY: I can do that. I saw him mark them.
FALLON: Good. And if you saw these bills in the next five minutes you'd be able to swear they're the same bills you gave me?
KELLY: Sure. (Starts towards door.)
FALLON: Wait a minute. Sit down, Kelly. (KELLY seats himself in Morris chair, holding his hat between his knees.) Kelly, this hotel engages you from the Pinkertons to stay around the place, and—protect the guests?
KELLY: Yes, sir.
FALLON: Well, there's a man downstairs thinks he has a claim on this money. Now, I'd like you to wait in that bedroom and listen to what he says with a view to putting him in jail.
KELLY: Blackmail, Mr. Fallon?
FALLON: Yes, blackmail.
KELLY: (Eagerly.) And you're not going to stand for it?
FALLON: I am not!
KELLY: (Earnestly.) Good! That's the only way to treat those dogs.
Never give up, never give up!
FALLON: No, but yesterday, I had to give up. He put a gun at my head.
KELLY: (Excitedly.) Where? Not in this hotel?
FALLON: Yes, in this room. I gave him a cheque for two thousand dollars. That made him think I was easy, and he telephoned this morning that he's coming back for another thousand, and he wants it in cash. That's why I marked those bills.
KELLY: Why, we got him now! He's as good as dead.
FALLON: (Startled.) What?
KELLY: I say, we've got him nailed now.
FALLON: Oh, yes. (Pause.) He hasn't turned in the cheque yet—I've just called up the bank to find out. I guess he means to hold that over my head, hey?
KELLY: More likely he's afraid of it. (Eagerly.) We may get that back, too. We may find it on him.
FALLON: What? Yes, as you say, we may find it on him.
KELLY: (Eagerly.) And as soon as he gets those bills in his clothes, you give me the high sign (Fiercely.)—and we'll nail him!
FALLON: Yes, we'll nail him. And, if he puts his gun in my face today, he won't catch me empty-handed the second time. (Draws automatic from his pocket.) I'm ready for him, today!
KELLY: (Greatly concerned.) Here, none of that stuff, Mr. Fallon.
A gentleman like you can't take that chance.
FALLON: Chance? Kelly, I haven't always lived in a swell hotel. The man that gets the drop on me—when I've got a gun—has got to be damned quick.
KELLY: That's just what I mean! I'm not thinking of him, I'm thinking of you. Give me that gun.
FALLON: Certainly not.
KELLY: You don't want to go to jail for a rat like that.
FALLON: I don't mean to go to jail, and, I don't mean to die, either. For the last six years I've been living on melted ice and bacon. Now, I'm worth seven million dollars. I'm thirty-five years old and my life is in front of me. And, I don't mean to waste one hour of it in a jail, and I don't mean to let any blackmailer take it away from me.
KELLY: You don't want no judge to take it away from you, either!
You're not in the Klondike.
FALLON: I guess, I've got a right to defend myself, anywhere.
KELLY: Yes, but you'll get excited and—
FALLON: (Quietly.) I? Excited? I never get excited. The last time I was excited was when I was seven years old, and the circus came to town.
KELLY: Don't mix up in this. What am I here for?
FALLON: You won't be here. How can you help me in that room, when a fellow's pumping lead into my stomach in this one?
KELLY: He won't pump no lead.
FALLON: (Carelessly.) I hope not. But, if he does, he's got to do it awful quick. (Motions towards centre door.) Now, you go in there and shut the door, and I'll talk out here. And you tell me if you can hear what I say? (KELLY goes into bedroom and closes door. FALLON walks to door R. with his back turned towards KELLY.) Have you got the door shut tight?
KELLY: (From bedroom.) Yes.
FALLON: (Speaks in a loud tone, to an imaginary person.) No, not another penny. If I pay you, will you promise not to take the story to the newspapers? I give you this thousand dollars—(Turns towards centre door. KELLY opens door.) Could you hear me?
KELLY: Yes, I could hear you, but he won't talk that loud. You put him in that chair (Points to Morris chair.)—so that he'll sit facing me, and you stand over there (Points at safe.)—so then he'll have to speak up.
FALLON: I see. Are you all ready?
KELLY: Yes. (KELLY closes door. FALLON goes to desk. Lifts both guns from his pocket an inch or two, and then takes receiver from telephone. To 'phone.) Give me the cafe, please. Is this the cafe? There's a Mr. Mohun down there waiting to hear from Mr. Fallon—yes. All right. Tell him to come up. (KELLY opens door.)
KELLY: Hist. Listen, this guy knows what he's up against; he knows it might land him in Sing Sing and he'll be leery of this door being shut. So, if he insists on looking in here, you speak up loud, and say, "That's my bedroom. It's empty." Say it quick enough to give me time to get out into the hall.
FALLON: I see.
KELLY: Then, when he's had his look around, you slam the door shut again, and I'll come back into the bedroom. Have you got it?
FALLON: I understand. (In loud voice.) That's my bedroom. It's empty.
KELLY: That's the office for me to sneak into the hall. (In bedroom, he disappears right.)
FALLON: (At open door, rehearsing.) You see, the room is empty. (Closes the door with a bang. Pause, then he calls.) Are you there now, Kelly?
KELLY: Yes, I'm here.
(FALLON stands looking at the key in the door. For an instant his hand falters over it as though he would risk turning it. Then, he shakes his head, and walks to table right. There is a low knock at door left.)
FALLON: Come in.
(MOHUN enters door left. He is lean, keen faced, watchful. He is a head taller than FALLON. His manner always has an undercurrent of insolence.)
MOHUN: Afternoon. Am I speaking to Mr. Fallon?
FALLON: Yes. Lou Mohun?
MOHUN: Yes. (MOHUN stands warily at the door. Glances cautiously around the room. Bends over quite openly to look under the sofa. For some seconds his eyes rest with a smile on bedroom door. He speaks slowly, unemotionally.) A mutual friend of ours said you wanted to see me.
FALLON: (Sharply.) We've no mutual friend. No one's in this but you and me. You want to get that straight!
MOHUN: (Easily.) All right. That's all right. Well, what do you want to see me about?
(FALLON speaks in a loud voice. In the speeches that follow, it must be apparent that his loud tone and excited manner is assumed, and is intended only to convince KELLY.)
FALLON: I understand, you think you have a claim on me for a thousand dollars. And, I'm going to give it to you. But, first, I want a plain talk with you. (Sharply.) Are you listening to me?
MOHUN: No, not yet. Before there's any plain talking, I want to know where that door leads to.
FALLON: What door? That? (In a louder voice.) That's my bedroom.
It's empty. Is that what you want? Think I got someone in there?
Do you want to look for yourself? (Opens door.) Go on in, and look.
(MOHUN takes a step forward, and peers past FALLON into bedroom.)
Go on, search it. Look under the bed.
MOHUN: I guess that's all right.
FALLON: Don't you want to look?
MOHUN: (Falling back to door left.) Not now. No need to, if you're willing to let me. (Impatiently.) Go on. What is it you want with me? (FALLON closes door with a slam. Comes down to table.)
FALLON: What do I want? I want you to understand that this is the last time you come to me for money.
MOHUN: (Indifferently.) That's all right.
FALLON: No, its not all right. (Takes out bills.) Before I give you this, you've got to promise me to keep silent. I'll stand for no more blackmail.
MOHUN: Don't talk so loud. I'm not deaf. Look here, Mr. Fallon, I didn't come here to be shouted at, I came here to get the money you promised me.
FALLON: Well, here it is. (Gives him bills. MOHUN sticks them in his right-hand vest pocket.) No, you listen to me. (As soon as he obtains the money, MOHUN'S manner changes. He is amused, and insolent.)
MOHUN: No, not a bit like it. Now that I've got this, you'll have to listen to me. (Moves deliberately to Morris chair and seats himself) Mr. Fallon, I don't like your tone.
FALLON: (Slowly.) You—don't—like my tone? I don't think I understand you.
MOHUN: You talk like you had a whip over me. You don't seem to see that I got you dead to rights.
FALLON: (In pretended alarm.) Have you?
MOHUN: Have I? I got a mortgage on you for life. You got in wrong when you gave me that money. Don't you see that? Mr. Fallon, I've been taking out information about you. Some 'Frisco lads tell me you used to be pretty sweet on a certain party, but she chucked you and married the other fellow. But the first day you come back a millionaire she visits your rooms—and you give her a thousand dollars! Why? She can't tell. You can't tell. But I can tell. I can tell her husband. He's only got to ask the hotel clerk and the cashier and the bell hops, and when I've told my story as I'll tell it—he's liable to shoot you. (There is a pause during which FALLON stares at MOHUN incredulously.) Let it sink in, Mr. Fallon.
FALLON: (Quietly.) I am—letting it sink in.
MOHUN: Now, a thousand dollars is all well enough from a lady that has to scrape to find it, but a thousand dollars from a millionaire like you is a joke. And unless you want me to go to the husband, you'll come across with fifty thousand dollars, and until I get it, I'm not going to leave this room.
FALLON: (Solemnly.) Then, I don't believe you are going to leave this room.
MOHUN: (Impudently.) Oh, I'll go when I'm ready.
FALLON: (Going up close to centre door.) Let me understand you.
You are going to this husband with a lie that will wreck his faith
in his wife, that will wreck his faith in his best friend, unless
I give you a thousand dollars?
MOHUN: No! Fifty thousand dollars!
FALLON: Fifty thousand. It's the same thing. But, you'd keep quiet for ten dollars, wouldn't you, if that was all I had?
MOHUN: (Grinning at him.) If that was all you had.
FALLON: (In a whisper, slowly, impressively.) Then, Mr. Mohun (He raises his right arm.), may—God—have mercy—on your soul. (In loud, excited tones and purposely, so that MOHUN can see him, he turns his face towards the centre door.) I won't pay that fifty thousand. I won't stand for blackmail, you're robbing—(MOHUN leaps to his feet, and points at centre door.)
MOHUN: (Fiercely.) Here. What are you doing? You're trying to trap me? There is someone in that room. (FALLON laughs mockingly at MOHUN, but speaks for KELLY to hear.)
FALLON: Don't go near that room. (With his left hand he quickly turns the key in the door.) Don't lock that door! Don't lock that door! Kelly, he's locked the door. (He draws the revolver from his left pocket. KELLY is heard shaking the handle of the door, and beating upon the panel. FALLON speaks in a whisper.) I told you, you'd never leave this room, Mr. Mohun. (In a loud, excited tone.) Drop that gun. Drop that gun. Don't point that gun at me! (Still smiling mockingly at MOHUN, FALLON shoots twice through his own coat on the left side, throws the gun at MOHUN'S feet, and drawing his automatic pistol, shoves it against MOHUN'S stomach and fires. MOHUN falls back into the Morris chair dead.) (Shouts loudly.) Break in the door. Break in the door. (From his pocket he takes the envelope containing the cheque, and sticks it into the inside pocket of MOHUN'S coat. Then turns to table, right, as KELLY bursts open the door and sees MOHUN.)
KELLY: My God, Mr. Fallon. I told you to give me that gun!
FALLON: Have I hurt him?
KELLY: (Bending over body.) Hurt him? You've killed him! (FALLON with his face turned from KELLY, smiles. He speaks with pretended emotion.) Killed him? Here, you're an officer. (Throws gun on table.) I give myself up. (KELLY runs to hand telephone. FALLON picks up his cigar from the table and a box of matches. Starts to light cigar, but seeing KELLY at 'phone hesitates and listens eagerly.)
KELLY: (To 'phone.) Send the hotel doctor here. Quick! Mr. Fallon's wounded. (To FALLON.) Are you badly hurt? (FALLON places his left hand on his left hip under the coat and removes it showing the fingers covered with blood.)
FALLON: Only scratched.
KELLY: (To 'phone.) Some crank tried to shoot him up. Mr. Fallon fired back and killed him. (Pause.) No! Mr. Fallon killed him! (Pause.) Of course, in self-defense, you fool, of course, in self-defense! (KELLY slams back the receiver, and rising quickly, turns to the right and stands with hands on his hips, and back to audience, gazing down at MOHUN. He does not once look at FALLON.)
FALLON: (On hearing the words "in self-defense" sighs, smiles and striking the match, lights the cigar as)