AT THE PLAY.
"THE MAN WHO WENT ABROAD."
The authors of The Man Who Stayed at Home (I preserve their modest anonymity) have contrived a sequel to that exciting and veracious stage account of secret service activities. The Man Who Went Abroad on one of those famous State-paper chases, in which conspirators conspire in the least likely places, such as the promenade decks of liners, is the man who spent his time in chimneys at home in the earlier part of the War—Kit Brent.
THE MAN WHO STAYED IN HIS TENT.
Christopher Brent. MR. KENNETH DOUGLAS.
Ani Kiraly. MISS IRIS HOEY.
He had a cousin, Lord Goring, Cabinet Minister, bound on a mission to Washington; and Kit, who was as like his cousin as clean-shaven KENNETH DOUGLAS was like KENNETH DOUGLAS with a toothbrush moustache, took his cabin while the important peer preceded him in another boat. On board Kit disports himself as a fatuous ass, of the kind that hyphenated Americans (in plays) would naturally assume to be the staple of a British Cabinet. Not that Goring really was such an ass; but it was Kit's plan to be so guileless as to induce the enemy agents to think they had a sitter. And I must say they were pretty easily induced. Their general schema was to get those inevitable papers, copy and return them, and delay Goring's visit to Washington, while the late lamented BERNSTORFF put in a suggestion which would make the British schemes, whatever they were—it was secret service, so we, rightly, never knew—look foolish. And they had the Hunnish idea of compromising the silly peer with an irresistible Austrian danseuse (Ani Kiraly), so that fear of exposure (by Hidden-Hand Press) of intrigue with enemy aliens would make him hand over the "papers." Brent played up to all this. But the lady of the ballet fell really in love with him, and besides was actually a Dalmatian and on the right side, a fact which she proclaimed at the top of her voice on the promenade dock, though, as she added, it meant death if discovered. In New York the Kiraly appears in Kit's bed-bathroom in the early morning, for devilment; to our loud enjoyment, for the great bath joke has an assured immortality. The Kiraly's husband appears too. Fat in fire. When Kit goes to the hyphenated's flat to exchange fake papers in his belt for letter acknowledging Kiraly's innocence, an agitated Hun appears with the news that the real Goring is in Washington, and the papers all spoof; which was annoying, as a reading-glass had already disclosed to the chief spy the British Government watermark, which obviously proved they were genuine.
Nothing for it but to clear out (through a portrait of the All-Highest), leaving Kit in the safe to suffocate. Enter police (comic). Where is Kit? Brain-wave. In the safe, behind secret panel. Problem: how to open it. The service was evidently so secret that it had never told one of its brightest young men about combination letter-locks. But the dancer remembers that the chief spy had carefully explained to her the letters of the combination. Release of Kit and a curtain which suggested that the initiative remained with the Kiraly.
The authors are to be congratulated. They provided a good unpretentious evening's entertainment. No dull and pedantic realism for them. The dialogue was bright, occasionally to the sparkling point. The players were competent and zealous. Mr. KENNETH DOUGLAS gave the right variety to his three parts, Goring as he was, Goring as he was assumed to be for purpose of bluffing the enemy, and Kit Brent; and he played his great bathroom scene with humour and complete discretion. Miss IRIS HOEY was a charming innocent adventuress with heart of gold and eye of gladness; Mr. HIGNETT, as Kit's self-possessed man Cosens, quite admirable, with just the right mixture of friendliness without impertinence and restraint without servility. Mr. WENMAN as a superabundant gum-chewing impresario, and Mr. EILLE NORWOOD as head villain, were quite plausible in the interesting and unlikely situation. I must say I like this kind of nonsense immensely. T.
