Act III.
About a Couple of months later than Act II.
The Duchess of Rainshire’s drawing-room, London. The fore-part of the stage represents an alcove of the big drawing-room; the back of the stage opens out so as to suggest a large room beyond. Heavy curtains hang on either side of back of alcove. Left second entrance, a door leading direct from alcove to outer hall. Left front, up against wall and projecting into room, a grand piano, closed. Right front, a large Chesterfield placed at convenient angle. One or two small chairs, big pictures, a palm or two, etc., as in a first class house.
The Duchess of Rainshire, Loveday and Gordon discovered in the foreground. Back of stage occasional guests pass to and fro in the big drawing-room, and faint sounds of music in the distance are heard.
The Duchess is a middle-aged, smart woman of the world, with a commanding manner and quick way of speaking, but kindly.
Gordon.
(Standing, speaking earnestly declaiming as though concluding a long argument.) I fear I have bored you, there is so much to say, but perhaps the chief point is that there shall not only be international law, but adequate force behind that law to enforce it.
Duchess.
(Stifling a yawn.) Well, Mr. Hyde, I’m sure I wish you the success you deserve, and not what I fear you are likely to get. London simply swarms with panaceas and their parents.
Loveday.
(Appealing.) But they haven’t all got you to help them!
Duchess.
Oh yes, most of them have! But mercifully the schemes counteract each other on the whole, or where should I be?
Loveday.
You must not allow anything to counteract this.
Duchess.
(To Mr. Hyde.) Well, young man, remember! It’s neither for yourself nor for your ideas I’m launching you on the defenceless man at the helm, but simply because Loveday used to have fascinating freckles on her nose when she was six years old.
Gordon.
I know I owe her an awful lot. And you too. I’m ever so grateful, I can’t say how grateful. Posterity will—
Duchess.
(Interrupting.) You are going to say that I’ll go down to history as the patron of genius, of course—I’m glad to hear it. It may help to counteract the other way I shall go down to history. No one who has had two successive husbands, both Dukes, could fail to find posterity as critical as the present generation is spiteful.
(Gordon looks bewildered.)
Loveday.
Don’t believe her, Gordon. Everybody’s awfully fond of her.
Duchess.
Go and think that over somewhere by yourself, young man. I haven’t seen Loveday since her escapade into Greater Britain and I want to hear from her how this little island looks in true prospective.
(Gordon bows and goes toward back of stage and mingles with other quests, strolling out of sight. Meanwhile a guest or two stroll partly round the alcove, but seeing the Duchess talking, retire.)
Duchess.
(Taking Loveday’s arm and pushing her down on to sofa, sits beside her.) Now, Miss, your confessions.
Loveday.
He is really wonderful.
Duchess.
Though New Zealand is British my experience of home Britons tells me it is not peopled by geniuses. He is exceptional. Naturally.
Loveday.
Not at all naturally.
Duchess.
Hoity-toity.—I’m not old enough to say that properly, but it is so effective, I’m beginning young, so as to get enough practice before my public use of it. So—hoity-toity!
(Loveday smiles, says nothing.)
Duchess.
What’s wrong, don’t I say it properly? It ought to elicit some retort from you which should reveal your secret more completely than ever.
Loveday.
I haven’t got a secret.
Duchess.
Hoity-toity!—I think I did it rather better that time—
Loveday.
(Earnestly.) I haven’t a secret really!
Duchess.
I must have done it better: you retorted, telling me that you have a secret.
Loveday.
(Laughing.) I haven’t, really and truly I haven’t.
Duchess.
Hoit—no. I’ll vary it. Fiddlesticks! Who is it?
Loveday.
Who is what?
Duchess.
Whom are you in love with?
Loveday.
Nobody.
Duchess.
Is he in love with you?
Loveday.
Who? Nobody? Yes. Nobody is in love with me.
Duchess.
He. (Points with her fan through opening of alcove.) Your New Zealand Genius.
Loveday.
(A shade despondently, but unconscious of it.) No, he is not.
Duchess.
(Pouncing.) Ha! that’s it, is it?
Loveday.
That’s what? Oh, dear! Why is it I always talk such bad English when I am with you?
Duchess.
Tush. Tell me about him!
Loveday.
(Brightening.) Oh, how nice of you. I did so want you to take an interest in his ideas. They are so wonderful. They will make—
Duchess.
I don’t care one Jellicoed submarine about his ideas. Tell me about himself.
Loveday.
He is a little lame, poor boy—
Duchess.
So I have observed.
Loveday.
But it isn’t fundamental. He got a stake through his thigh when he was a lad and it healed badly. It must have been dreadful for him.
Duchess.
Are you going to marry him?
Loveday.
Oh, how can you say such things? It has never entered his head!
Duchess.
Hoity-toity.
Loveday.
Oh, it hasn’t!
Duchess.
Well, here is a personable young man for whom you feel pity, and you are twenty-seven to his thirty. I only ask, are you going to marry him?
Loveday.
(Rising indignantly.) How can you say such things. I never thought of it! Why he—he loves someone else!
Duchess.
Oh, that’s the trouble, is it? Where is she?
Loveday.
In New Zealand.
Duchess.
(Patting Loveday’s hand.) Then that’s all right, my dear. You can have him if you want.
Loveday.
But I don’t want, that way.—Oh, I don’t want any way! Oh, why do you have such dreadful conversations?
Duchess.
That’s it. Quarrel with your benefactor! Are you going to flounce out of the house before the Prime Minister comes?
Loveday.
I can’t now—but I’m not going to take anything back because you promised to help us.
Duchess.
(Laughing delightedly and pulling Loveday down again beside her.) Oh, so it is us?
Loveday.
Only for this piece of work, till his idea is launched, of course. What do you suppose I came across from New Zealand for?
Duchess.
(Chuckling.) I wondered.
Loveday.
Don’t you care a bit for a big idea that will help the world? Can’t you imagine a woman gladly crossing the world to have even a small share in helping it forward?
Duchess.
I could imagine it; but I have never yet observed it.
Loveday.
Well, you can now. Look at me.
Duchess.
I do, my child, and I see a young woman in love.
Loveday.
(Shaking herself.) Ooh!
Duchess.
Never mind, my dear. He is a personable young man enough. There are no available Dukes, Earls or Marquises I can recommend at present and I believe in people marrying for love. I have seen too much of the other thing. So what can I do for you?
Loveday.
You know quite well. I only asked you, begged you, to make the Prime Minister listen to him.
Duchess.
Oh, the poor man! When he comes here for an hour it is for relaxation and quiet. He looks to me to protect him from Cranks, not to stuff them down his throat.
Loveday.
(Emphatically.) Gordon is not a crank.
Duchess.
All cranks have emphatic relatives who testify ardently to their sanity.
Loveday.
I’m not his relative.
Duchess.
Hoity-toity.
Loveday.
(Smiling.) That doesn’t react with me any longer. (Coaxing.) Come now, be an angel and introduce Gordon to the Prime Minister. Don’t say anything about your suspicions that he is a crank. Just say he is a nice young man from New Zealand.
Duchess.
And what am I to say about you? Or are you dying to be sacrificed on the altar of friendship and have nothing said about you?
Loveday.
Oh, yes.
Duchess.
You don’t insist on an introduction too?
Loveday.
No. I ask only one introduction. Promise that.
Duchess.
Very well.
Loveday.
You darling!
Duchess.
But I will use the introduction for you, not the man. The Prime Minister likes young girls if they are at all good looking, and I think one may call you that.
Loveday.
Oh, you mustn’t! I won’t be introduced.
Duchess.
What! You refuse to be introduced to the Prime Minister?
Loveday.
(Punching a cushion.) I do. I do absolutely. That one introduction is for Gordon. You promised one; and Gordon is to have it.
(The Rev. Dr. Varlie, separating himself from the guests, has strolled into the alcove.)
Duchess.
Well, I suppose it must be.
Loveday.
You are a dear.
Duchess.
But for your purpose, it is not the Prime Minister you want first of all. There is another Cabinet Minister whose word in the Prime Minister’s ear would be priceless.
Loveday.
Oh! Then please introduce Gordon to him first!
Duchess.
He’s very amiable.
Loveday.
Splendid. Is he here to-night?
Duchess.
Yes. Go and fetch your phenomenon. If you two are to be found here when wanted. I’ll either send for you or stroll this way with him if I can.
Loveday.
Thanks awfully! (Goes through curtains, to drawing-room beyond.)
(The Rev. Dr. Varlie advances. He has a considerable beard, and wears clerical garb. He politely presents himself to the Duchess. She greets him without enthusiasm.)
Duchess.
Oh, Dr. Chapman, I’m glad you found time to come for a little relaxation.
Varlie.
Oh, dear lady. I take no relaxation in these sad times. But I wanted a word with you before your next Committee for the relief of the homeless Serbians. As you know, the American people have been stirred to the depths, and out of the fulness of their hearts they have sent me to join my ministrations with yours. As you well know, these weeks past I have put my back into it.
Duchess.
Very good of you I’m sure. We can’t have too much help. Practical help.
Varlie.
At the last Committee Meeting I opined that a cheque would not be out of place in your hands, Duchess.
Duchess.
Never.
Varlie.
(Taking out his pocket book.) Waal, my flock answered my prayers, and sent this to me for you. If you could sign the receipt yourself, Duchess, it would be like placing seed in fertile ground. I know your secretary does such routine work for you, Duchess, and that’s why I took this chance of handing it to you myself.
Duchess.
Of course I’ll sign the receipt if you like. Is that all?
Varlie.
Waal, the other business will do when we meet at the next Committee.
Duchess.
(Moving off, back of stage.) Then come along with me, and I’ll find you an interesting girl or two to entertain you. You just missed one as you came in.
Varlie.
So I divined from her earnestness. A lovely type.
(They go out together. In a moment Loveday and Gordon return.)
Loveday.
So we are to sit here till she comes or sends for you.
Gordon.
(Gratefully.) I say. You do work miracles.
Loveday.
It is the Duchess who will do that. Isn’t she a dear?
Gordon.
She terrifies me rather.
Loveday.
For moments, just at times, she terrifies me. But all the safe times in between I know she is a dear.
Gordon.
I say, I’m nervous you know.
Loveday.
Oh, don’t be! You will only have a few minutes this time: just to make a good impression. If you do that then the Minister may give you a serious interview later.
Gordon.
I’m wretchedly nervous. Is he, is he short with people?
Loveday.
He likes people to be short with him! He is dreadfully bored by long-winded cranks of course.
Gordon.
I say, what do you think? (Pulls out some papers from his pocket.) I thought of wording Clause 29 of the suggested constitution as follows: “The Super-Parliament is to have the power of prohibiting the manufacture of anything which in its opinion constitutes a menace to the Peace of the world: with power to inflict the death penalty on all concerned in any infringement of its prohibition in any country.”
Loveday.
Yes. I think that is good. Coupled with the other clauses that makes it safer.
Gordon.
I hope the Prime Minister will see that. I must learn this clause off by heart now. Teach it to me, will you?
Loveday.
You don’t know the other clauses off by heart, do you?
Gordon.
Yes, of course I learnt them. I couldn’t read them to the Prime Minister, could I? And I’m so nervous, I’d muddle them up unless I just learn them off.
Loveday.
(Horrified.) You don’t intend to say off all the thirty-three clauses of the suggested constitution to the Prime Minister at this first meeting, do you?
Gordon.
(Simply surprised.) Why, yes! I’m to tell him the ideas, aren’t I?
Loveday.
Good heavens! not in a block like that though. After you have made an impression on him you must give him these all typed out so that his secretaries and colleagues and everybody can make marginal notes on them and hash them up.
Gordon.
If I’m not to say the clauses I have learnt, what on earth am I to say?
Loveday.
Say you have an idea worth his serious attention—say—oh—whatever he makes you feel will reach his attention!
Gordon.
Good heavens. What a gamble!
Loveday.
Not a bit. The inspiration will come.
Gordon.
You have been my inspiration for so much of this.
Loveday.
No, no. I have only suggested a word here and there.
Gordon.
I owe you so much. How strange it is I should have met you the same day that the vision came to me. Next to my vision-spirit, you are the source of all the ideas worth anything in it.
Loveday.
Nonsense. Absolute nonsense. I simply had nothing concrete in my mind at first! It is you, you, you who have put all the ideas into practical, living, useful shape.
Gordon.
But I had no concrete ideas at first!
Loveday.
Well, you evolved them out of your inner consciousness.
Gordon.
(Obstinately.) The vision, and you, gave me the ideas to work out.
Loveday.
(Almost irritably.) It’s sheer nonsense, that old vision! The thoughts were yours, yours, yours! She only mumbled a little vague tosh!
Gordon.
(Astonished.) Loveday!
Loveday.
Well, I’m tired of seeing you being so humble, and failing to realise how splendid you are, and how the credit of it is all your own.
Gordon.
Loveday.—You don’t really think that?
Loveday.
I do.
Gordon.
(Whimsically.) I’m so accustomed to women thinking poorly of me—Nora—
Loveday.
(After a pause.) Does she—does she still hurt you, Gordon?
Gordon.
No I have waked from my foolish dream of love for her. She, she was too cruel—and besides—she, you know, you heard—she loved Robert.
Loveday.
(Joy showing in her face, which she tries to conceal.) Then you feel free.
Gordon.
Yes. Thank God I’m free from love of any earthly woman.
(Loveday’s face falls.)
Gordon.
You make most women look small, and then—then—anyway, I’m not the type of man such a woman as I could love now, would look at. Thank God, no mortal woman can rack my heart. My vision Queen has my heart and my dreams.
(Loveday looks bright—then a little mischievous. Varlie returns, strolling round the room, unnoticed by them. He starts somewhat at seeing them talking together so deeply and nods as if recognising something and saying “ha ha” to himself. He studies the angle of the room and places himself back of the piano, turning towards the wall and pretending to examine a picture. Meanwhile Loveday and Gordon continue, unaware, to talk.)
Loveday.
Spirits don’t appear. She must have been a real woman.
Gordon.
Impossible.
Loveday.
But a spirit is more impossible! (triumphantly). So you see, every single bit of credit for it is yours.
Gordon.
Yours.
(Both laughing say together “yours.”)
(From back of stage, enter Cabinet Minister with the Duchess. The Minister is old, benign and white haired, with a long white beard. A plain clothes detective [Smithers] in evening dress follows him at a little distance and hovers near the curtains at the back.)
Minister.
Ah! I remembered that this alcove is generally nice and quiet. You are a good hostess, my dear.
(The Duchess throws a comical look at the back of the sofa where Gordon and Loveday are sitting.)
Duchess.
I’m glad you think so! It isn’t easy to satisfy different people at the same time.
Minister.
All I ask is a quiet cup of coffee with you, my dear. Can we have some coffee here, by the way?
Duchess.
Of course. (Slips quickly to wall and rings.) It will be here directly.
Minister.
And your coffee is good. Ah, it reminds me of Paris in the late seventies—when I was a young man. But you didn’t know Paris in the late seventies I expect? No, no, of course not.
(Maid in smart uniform, waistcoat, brass buttons, enters from entrance right, going quickly up to the Duchess, who whispers “coffee at once, here.” Maid goes out.)
Minister.
Paris in the seventies was an adventure.
Duchess.
Any city is an adventure to the right man.
(Maid enters with coffee, Minister helps himself to sugar and cream, stands centre of stage holding it in his hand.)
Minister.
That’s true. You are a witty woman, my dear. And that’s a thing not often come by now-a-days.
Duchess.
Modern women are all clever, and cleverness kills wit as a magnifying glass kills a complexion.
Minister.
Good, good.
(Loveday and Gordon, observing their nearness, rise and stand a little way off. The Duchess signals imperiously to Loveday, but she makes a determined grimace and slips round the left side of the sofa. As she leaves Gordon she whispers “The great moment is coming—Good Luck.” Gordon stands hesitating. The Duchess signs to him to come forward.)
Duchess.
Ah, here is the young man of whom I spoke to you. May I introduce Mr. Hyde? You said you could endure a chat with him. He wants your influence with the Prime Minister you know. I tell him you are even more important.
Minister.
Flatterer!
(Loveday behind the group waves her hand joyously. Hyde looks relieved and very pleased.)
Duchess.
The power behind the throne, Mr. Hyde.
Minister.
(Kindly.) Ah, how do you do, Mr. Hyde.
(Shakes hands after carefully turning and laying down his coffee cup on the corner of the piano behind him, placing the cup so that it is on the audience side of the piano. Varlie, who is still standing with his back to the group, looking at the picture above the piano, notes this quickly and keenly. He is seen by the audience to be listening intently.)
Minister.
How do you do. You come from Australia I believe?
Gordon.
New Zealand, Sir.
Minister.
New Zealand, yes, yes. A thousand miles by sea from the nearest port in Australia.
Gordon.
Yes, Sir.
Minister.
I remember that because I was there myself when I was a young man and very much it surprised me to be sure. I had always pictured New Zealand as being to Australia like England to the Continent. Yes, yes. A thousand miles away. Just think what a difference it would make, if England were a thousand miles from France at this present moment.
Gordon.
Yes indeed, Sir.
Minister.
So it is very fine of you young New Zealanders to join in with us all the way you do. Very fine.
(Loveday crosses to right of stage and looks curiously at Varlie but without recognition.)
Gordon.
We are Britons all, Sir.
Minister.
Yes, yes. We are all fighting shoulder to shoulder, though I expect the realisation of it has hardly touched you yet.
Gordon.
My only brother was killed a few weeks ago in Gallipoli, Sir.
Minister.
Dear, dear. A sad business that. I’m sorry for that, my lad.
Gordon.
(Beginning to be desperate.) And that is one reason why, Sir, I am so anxious to ask your help for my scheme of international—
(Varlie meanwhile has very quietly slipped round so as to be on the front of the piano, within reach of coffee cup.)
Minister.
(Putting up his hand and gently interrupting.) Now don’t talk about schemes, young man. This is my recreation hour. Seeing you carries me back to when I was a young chap myself. My father was one of the old school and sent me round the world to finish my education.
(Varlie’s right cheek now faces Loveday, she gazes at it, starts with amazed half recognition, for the top half of the scar is visible.)
Minister.
I remember very well going to New Zealand—and seeing its pink and white terraces. Ah! They were wonderful, wonderful.
Gordon.
They must have been, Sir (his heart beginning to sink into his boots).
Minister.
Yes, of course. They were destroyed before you could have seen them. A terrible volcanic outburst that! Incredible. Why those great pink and white terraces looked as though no power on earth could destroy them. So beautiful they were too! So beautiful. Like coloured marble that had been spun into lace cascades by magicians. Well, well, sic transit gloria mundi! (He shakes Gordon’s hand.) I’m glad to have had this little talk with you, Mr. Hyde. These pleasant meetings help to link up the Empire. Good-bye. Good Luck.
(Meanwhile, through the last part of this conversation, Varlie has taken out the Green Jade Carving, seen in Act II., from his pocket. Loveday recognises it and shows tense anxiety and suppressed excitement. Varlie glances stealthily round the room, and sees that no one is looking at him, for Loveday pretends not to see him; she then turns her head just in time to see him drop a drop of the poison into the coffee cup on the piano, and quickly to turn away, his back to the group, and go to another picture, hanging down right front of the piano. Varlie calmly pretends to be absorbed in examining the picture. Loveday is for a moment weak with amazement and anxiety, and is evidently hesitating as to what course to follow, by the time the Minister says, “Good-bye, good luck.”)
Gordon.
Good-bye, Sir, thank you. (Desperate.) And may I come and see you in office hours about my scheme? It is very important, it—is a series of clauses for an international arrangement which will wipe German Militarism and all other militarism off the earth—it—
Minister.
If you must send it—and I really ask you not to, I am deluged with other people’s ideas—if you must send it, my secretary will attend to it. Good-bye.
(Gordon steps back very dejected. The Minister turns, takes up his coffee cup and says a word to the Duchess.)
Minister.
And now for our chat, my dear.
(He raises the coffee cup, about to drink slowly. Loveday springs forward and dashes the cup from his hand, spilling the coffee. [Note.—Better have a brown carpet so that the successive stains of a long run won’t show.] The Duchess and Minister look amazed.)
Loveday.
(Panting but quietly.) That man, that man there!
(Points at Varlie, who is now in the corner between the footlights, the piano, and the Minister’s group. Very unostentatiously he digs the jade piece into the earth of pot and has barely covered it by this time.)
Hold him, Gordon, hold him.
(Gordon literally hurls himself on Varlie and, before he has time to turn, has his two arms pinned from behind. The two men struggle. The Minister looks bewildered. Hearing the struggle the evening-dress-clad detective near the curtains comes forward hurriedly and helps Gordon. They succeed in holding Varlie.)
Duchess.
For God’s sake don’t have a scene in public.
(She runs across room and rings repeatedly. Maid comes in by door right.)
Duchess.
(To Maid.) Draw those curtains instantly and stand by them. Don’t let anyone in, not anyone unless I tell you.
(The Maid hurries to obey and draws the heavy velvet curtains, shutting off the alcove from the main drawing room and stations herself by them.)
Minister.
Dear, dear, what is this all about! Why it is a clergyman! isn’t it? What on earth are they handling a clergyman in this fashion for? Why, Smithers man, you are to guard me, not to assist a young ruffian in mauling a reverend gentleman.
Smithers.
(Puzzled, half relaxing hold on Varlie) I’m sure, Sir, I don’t know—
Loveday.
Don’t, don’t leave him! For God’s sake hold him.
Duchess.
What on earth is this outrageous fracas about? Loveday, I’m amazed! The Rev. Dr. Chapman is an American whom I know and respect. Let him go at once, Smithers. And you, Mr. Hyde, you outrageous humbug!
Loveday.
Don’t! (She goes quickly up to Varlie, pulls his beard with one hand, and it comes off.)
(Amazement and consternation of all.)
Loveday.
Yes, I thought so! Look, Gordon, see that scar on his cheek, that little triangular red scar! But anyway you must know his face now, it is Varlie!
Varlie.
How the devil—What does all this mean! You attack the Minister of Peace! I am the Rev. Dr. Chapman, as you well know, Duchess. If I choose to wear a false beard till my own grows because I desire to follow John the Baptist’s example, though alas late in life, is that any crime? Why don’t you go round among your guests and arrest the ladies with false hair. They intend to attract and deceive while I but symbolise my belief in the Nazarene vows.
(He seems to be making an impression on the Duchess and the Minister.)
Loveday.
No! Hold him, he’s dangerous. Hold him till I can tell you all!
Gordon.
Sure, Loveday, I’ll hold him, even if Mr. Smithers won’t.
Loveday.
Oh, but you both must. Listen. The reason I spilt the coffee was that he had put poison in it!
Minister. Duchess.
(Incredulous.) Poison? Poison!
Loveday.
Yes, poison. A deadly, secret poison, made from the karaka nut. It would never have been detected, never! A few hours later you would just have had a stroke and died! Of course he knows how dreadfully important you are.
Minister. Duchess.
Bless my soul. Are you raving or am I dreaming, young lady. How do you know this—this amazing thing? Fiddlesticks—tush—but, good God.
Loveday.
I saw him do it.
Varlie-Chapman.
(Putting on a superior air.) Can you really even listen to such an absurd charge against one of my cloth?
Loveday.
I can prove it. You will find on him a green carved jade hei-tiki, it has a secret recess in which the poison was. It must be on him. He couldn’t swallow it, it’s too big. Search him!
Varlie-Chapman.
(Calmly.) Search me, officer—if you are an officer—to satisfy the hysterical young lady and settle this absurd business once and for all.
Loveday.
Don’t trust him. Have another man in to help. I charge him with attempted murder you know, murder of the most important Cabinet Minister.
Duchess.
Oh, Loveday, this is too awful (She sits.)
Minister.
I feel a bit shaken, perhaps I may sit too.
Smithers.
This is serious you know. It had better be looked into if you’ll excuse me, sir. I have some of my men outside. If you would ring three times quickly, and then twice more, my men will come in. (Loveday rushes to the bell and does so.) Thank you, Miss.
Varlie.
Waal, if this isn’t high comedy! But most unseemly! And to think that it is in your house, Duchess, that I should be served up with this nice little surprise party.
(Enter two stalwart plain clothes men from door on right.)
Smithers.
Hold this gentleman firmly while we search his pockets. Excuse me, sir, but I think I ought to satisfy myself.
Duchess.
I’m terribly distressed. I don’t know what to think. I have known Loveday since she was six and had freckles on her nose, and she has never been hysterical.
Loveday.
(Quietly.) I’m not hysterical now there are two such nice strong men to hold Mr. Varlie.
Minister.
(Pathetically.) Could I have some coffee do you think, my dear? I was really needing it before——
Duchess.
Of course. This awful fracas must have exhausted you.
Minister.
(Shaking his finger playfully at her.) No fancy cakes now!
Duchess.
There are none in my house, not even to-night. I may not be clever, but I can see the obvious as well as most people, and it is glaringly obvious that anyone whose hands are steady enough to decorate foodstuffs can handle tools of more use to the country. (To Maid by curtains.) Go and fetch some hot coffee at once. I will stay by the curtains while you are gone. Don’t say one word to anyone, mind!
(She goes out quickly through door right. Meanwhile Smithers systematically searches all Varlie’s pockets. He finds a revolver, which he lays out with an accusing look.)
Smithers.
That don’t look like a clergyman, sir!
Varlie.
All Americans have those little pets on them. In the backwoods I have had to have it cocked on to my congregation so as to hold their attention!
(Meanwhile Loveday is quite quietly and unobtrusively looking round the corner, front right, where Varlie had been standing before his arrest. The coffee comes in, the Minister drinks it, the Duchess returns from the curtains and the Maid takes up her place there again.)
Minister.
This is very painful, my dear, very painful. I’m sure I don’t know what to think.
Duchess.
We must wait and see.
Varlie.
Waal, Duchess, in a time like the present I quite understand your young girls getting hysterical. Don’t let my position make you feel bad. I bear no malice. It is my duty and my pleasure to turn the other cheek!
(Loveday stands gazing curiously at the palm, down right, near where Varlie was. The smooth green moss is broken through in one place, and rough earth shows.)
Smithers.
(Rising.) There is no jade ornament too large for him to swallow on him that I can see.
Varlie.
Naturally! It grieves me that you should be so inured to deception, young man, that you should doubt my word.
Minister.
There, there. It was all a fancy. But you and I and the Duchess can forgive a pretty girl more than this, can’t we, Mr., Mr.——
Varlie.
Dr. Chapman, sir. Now your myrmidons can unhand me, I reckon.
(Smithers hesitates to give the order.)
Loveday.
Don’t! It’s not settled. Look at this.
(Smithers comes forward and looks at pot as she indicates.)
Smithers.
I see nothing there, Miss.
Loveday.
The earth has been disturbed here—look, the rest of the pot is covered with moss.
Duchess.
Oh, Loveday, Loveday. The gardener has pulled up a weed, I suppose. Pulling up weeds always does disturb the moss. Even the Government knows that.
Loveday.
Gordon, Mr. Smithers—haven’t you a penknife one of you? Dig just there for me, please do.
Varlie.
(Gets suddenly restive in his keepers’ hands.) This is the limit! This beats everything. She put it there herself.
Smithers.
(Looking at him keenly.) Put it there? You said there wasn’t anything just now.
Varlie.
I have had enough of this. (To the two holding him.) Let me go, you monkey-faced jumbos. (To Smithers.) I’m due at our Embassy. You can do your agricultural work as well when I’ve gone.
Smithers.
(Now suspicious of him.) We’ll just see first if there is anything in this plant.
Varlie.
She did it herself. She simply put something in herself!
Loveday.
(Spreading out her hands.) Look! I’ve got white kid gloves on! I couldn’t have done it without leaving earth on them! and there isn’t a grain!
Minister.
(Leans forward intently interested.) She is a bright girl that. I call that clever.
Duchess.
Clever, yes. But not witty! She lost an opportunity of saying, “I have the proof at my finger tips.”
Minister.
(Chuckling.) No case! The white gloves of a Judge on circuit!
Duchess.
Good! Ha, ha!
Loveday.
Look at his hands. Look!
(Varlie closes his hands [which are gloveless] and clenches his nails in.)
Varlie.
By gum, you don’t insult me like this!
Smithers.
Please open your hands, sir.
Varlie.
I won’t, damn you.
Smithers.
You had better, sir.
Varlie.
I dropped a coin in a flower bed this afternoon! I have some earth in my nails anyway. (He half opens his hands reluctantly.)
(All lean forward to see. Two fingers are stained and there is earth in two or three of the nails.)
Smithers.
You’d have washed your hands if what you say about dropping a coin is true before coming here, sir. Hold him well, men. Yes, Miss. I’ll dig this pot up for you.
(He digs with his penknife, all wait breathlessly, in a minute the green jade ornament appears. He wipes it with his handkerchief, holds it out to Loveday.)
Smithers.
Is that it, Miss.
Loveday.
(Eager.) Yes, yes, that is it!
Minister. Duchess.
(Coming forward to look at it.) Dear, dear! Fancy! I said Loveday wasn’t hysterical.
Smithers.
That looks as though the young lady was right. You’ve had a narrow escape, sir!
Varlie.
That don’t amount to shucks! What does that prove. There is only wild talk. I tell you I’m known at the American Embassy, I’m known to the Duchess here. You can’t begin to prove I ever saw that green trumpery. The only thing you’ve got against me is that I wore a false beard! (Sneers.) Bring that up against an American citizen and a minister of religion and you would look queer in the Law Courts!
Loveday.
And you are known to me—to us. To both Mr. Hyde and me. You were Mr. Varlie in New Zealand.
Gordon.
Yes, Varlie, there’s no mistaking you! You bought the freehold of my Station and all my sheep and I’m not likely to forget it.
Loveday.
And you travelled all over New Zealand, selling things under the name of Varlie, and you wouldn’t be pretending to be somebody else and a clergyman too, if you were honest. Besides (scornfully), I saw you buy that special secret poison from Roto, the old Maori, and you made very special enquiries about its use, too!
Smithers.
(As though recollecting something.) Varlie—Varlie—New Zealand. The secret service particular warned me against a man called Varlie who has been hauling in a lot of freehold in New Zealand under various names, and travelling for German American firms. We had lost track of him. (Joy spreading over his face.) You don’t mean to say he is John Varlie! Not John Varlie, Miss?
Loveday.
Yes, yes.
Gordon.
That’s the name I’ve known him under in New Zealand for months.
Smithers.
My, men! We have got a haul. Well, ladies, the man is safe now, anyway. There is no need to bother you any more to-night.
Duchess.
Cleverness seems to get an appropriately solid result, Loveday?
Smithers.
You are staying here, Miss? No? Your address, please.
(He takes out a note book, she tells her address )
And yours, sir? (Gordon does the same.)
(Meanwhile the Minister looks from one to the other, turns to Duchess.)
Minister.
He is evidently really a dangerous man! But a clergyman too! What an outrage to the cloth. That’s the kind of thing to make atheists.
Smithers.
(Snapping his note book and turning quickly.) He is no clergyman. A very dangerous man, sir. It is all a pretence too about his being an American. He is an out and out German, sir, and I make no doubt the young lady was right about his attempt on your life, sir. I expect you have had a narrow escape. We won’t trouble you any further to-night. Take him off, men. I’ve got all the addresses. Good-night, ladies—good-night, sir, good-night, sir. (Goes out after Varlie, led by the men, unresisting now.)
(Loveday and Gordon look at each other. Duchess subsides into sofa by the Minister.)
Duchess.
As I said, even London is an adventure for the right man. (Fans herself.) Loveday, come here.
Minister.
(Rises and shakes her hand, keeps it and pats it.) My dear young lady, my dear young lady. The service you have done me is too great for thanks. You may command me—always. And I hope I may often have the happiness of serving you. But please give me something to do at once. What can I do for you?
Loveday.
Oh, there is one thing you can do for me, if only you will! Will you!
Minister.
An-y-thing you like to ask, my dear, if it is humanly possible. What is it?
Loveday.
Please, oh please, let Mr. Hyde tell you about his wonderful International plan.
Minister.
Of course, of course! So he is a friend of yours, is he?
Gordon.
(Coming forward.) I have that great honour, sir.
Gordon.
(Takes out sheaf of papers.) If there was a Super-Parliament constituted as I suggest Prussian Militarism, all Militarism, is not only defeated now, but for ever! It is plucked out by the roots, but not at the ruinous cost of imposing militarism on all other nations. Oh, there’s so much. (Hesitates.)
Loveday.
(Breaking in, her voice almost chanting, like one inspired, its notes resembling those used by her at the close of Act I.) And Militarism is met, not by the weakness of a too trusting idealism but by force controlled by intelligence. Law is devised with behind it international force, which shall protect the nations, as law backed by civil force protects each man and woman in Britain.
(Hyde starts, gazing intently at her set inspired face and seems to recognise her voice. He stretches out a hand, withdraws it, and whispers in awed voice.)
Hyde.
My queen! My vision. It is she! (Sits as though entranced.)
Loveday.
(Does not notice him, but continues uninterruptedly.) And the nation which will not come into this council of nations proclaims itself an outlaw, an aggressor, a planner of evil, and it inscribes its own doom, for law that is outraged takes vengeance implacable.
(There is a pause, she relaxes—smiles.)
Minister.
My dear—I must think.
Loveday.
(Holding out her hands to him appealingly.) You are the most powerful man in England, it is for you to initiate this new era, of international safety and peace. Whatever the terms of an ordinary peace, militarism will spring up again to ravage the world. Let Britain lead in this new enlargement of law and freedom, for this is the only way to bring security to the world.
Minister.
(Very seriously.) I will think about it, my dear.
Duchess.
(Returning to her normal.) If that is cleverness it makes me a little dissatisfied with mere wit.
Minister.
(To Hyde.) Have your suggested constitution typed out, young man, and bring it to Downing Street the day after to-morrow. I’ll send you a card with the hour. Your address? (Hyde hands him a card.) I’ll try to get the Prime Minister interested. Good-night.
Loveday.
How splendid.
Minister.
Good-night, my dear, good-night. If you leave it very long before I see you again, I’ll have to send for you. Heaven guard you, my dear.
(To Duchess.) I must say good-night. I have long outstayed my time.
Duchess.
Let me see you off my premises. I only pray there are no more adventures for you on them. I hope exterminated dangers leave rest behind them. (They go off back centre together, the Footman pulls curtain apart to let them out and follows them. Faint strains of music are heard from distant room.)
Loveday.
(Sits on sofa, looks at Gordon with a rapt gaze.) Your chance, the world’s chance, has come!
Gordon.
(In awe-struck voice, tenderly. He stands half stooping before her.) And you, you are not only my friend but my Goddess, my vision! Your look just now—your wonderful voice when you were speaking to the Minister a little ago. It was you that night in the woods—you I have been adoring, and from you I have been drawing my inspiration!
Loveday.
(Softly.) It was I in the woods. Chance gave me a moment’s inspiration! which you worked into reality.
Gordon.
(Half kneels before her.) I know my love can be nothing at all to you—I am not a fit mate for you. But let me go on kneeling to you! Don’t spurn me.
Loveday.
(Slowly.) Why are you so sure your love is nothing to me?
Gordon.
(As though blinded by a sudden shaft of light in the darkness.) Oh! It can’t be that it is anything to you?
Loveday.
Your love is everything to me.
(Slowly he advances, with almost incredulous rapture. They kiss.)
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.