Chapter III: Act III: Lady Frederick's Dressing-Room (3)

You don't for a moment suppose I should have let you into those horrible mysteries of my toilette if I'd had any intention of marrying you? Give me credit for a certain amount of intelligence and good feeling. I should have kept up the illusion, at all events till after the honeymoon.

MERESTON.

Are you going to refuse me?

LADY FREDERICK.

Aren't you rather glad?

MERESTON.

No, no, no.

LADY FREDERICK.

[_Putting her arm through his._] Now let us talk it over sensibly. You're a very nice boy, and I'm awfully fond of you. But you're twenty-two, and heaven only knows my age. You see, the church in which I was baptized was burnt down the year I was born, so I don't know how old I am.

MERESTON.

[_Smiling._] Where was it burnt?

LADY FREDERICK.

In Ireland.

MERESTON.

I thought so.

LADY FREDERICK.

Just at present I can make a decent enough show by taking infinite pains; and my hand is not so heavy that the innocent eyes of your sex can discover how much of me is due to art. But in ten years you'll only be thirty-two, and then, if I married you, my whole life would be a mortal struggle to preserve some semblance of youth. Haven't you seen those old hags who've never surrendered to Anno Domini, with their poor, thin, wrinkled cheeks covered with paint, and the dreadful wigs that hide a hairless pate? Rather cock-eyed, don't you know, and invariably flaxen. You've laughed at their ridiculous graces, and you've been disgusted too. Oh, I'm so sorry for them, poor things. And I should become just like that, for I should never have the courage to let my hair be white so long as yours was brown. But if I don't marry you, I can look forward to the white hairs fairly happily. The first I shall pluck out, and the second I shall pluck out. But when the third comes I'll give in, and I'll throw my rouge and my poudre de riz and my pencils into the fire.

MERESTON.

But d'you think I should ever change?

LADY FREDERICK.

My dear boy, I'm sure of it. Can't you imagine what it would be to be tied to a woman who was always bound to sit with her back to the light? And sometimes you might want to kiss me.

MERESTON.

I think it very probable.

LADY FREDERICK.

Well, you couldn't--in case you disarranged my complexion. [MERESTON _sighs deeply._] Don't sigh, Charlie. I daresay I was horrid to let you fall in love with me, but I'm only human, and I was desperately flattered.

MERESTON.

Was that all?

LADY FREDERICK.

And rather touched. That is why I want to give a cure with my refusal.

MERESTON.

But you break my heart.

LADY FREDERICK.

My dear, men have said that to me ever since I was fifteen, but I've never noticed that in consequence they ate their dinner less heartily.

MERESTON.

I suppose you think it was only calf-love?

LADY FREDERICK.

I'm not such a fool as to imagine a boy can love any less than a man. If I'd thought your affection ridiculous I shouldn't have been so flattered.

MERESTON.

It doesn't hurt any the less because the wounds you make are clean cut.

LADY FREDERICK.

But they'll soon heal. And you'll fall in love with a nice girl of your own age, whose cheeks flush with youth and not with rouge, and whose eyes sparkle because they love you, and not because they're carefully made up.

MERESTON.

But I wanted to help you. You're in such an awful scrape, and if you'll only marry me it can all be set right.

LADY FREDERICK.

Oh, my dear, don't go in for self-sacrifice. You must leave that to women. They're so much more used to it.

MERESTON.

Isn't there anything I can do for you?

LADY FREDERICK.

No, dear. I shall get out of the mess somehow. I always do. You really need not worry about me.

MERESTON.

You know, you _are_ a brick.

LADY FREDERICK.

Then it's all settled, isn't it? And you're not going to be unhappy?

MERESTON.

I'll try not to be.

LADY FREDERICK.

I'd like to imprint a chaste kiss on your forehead, only I'm afraid it would leave a mark.

[_The_ FOOTMAN _comes in and announces_ PARADINE
FOULDES.

FOOTMAN.

Mr. Paradine Fouldes.

[_Exit._

FOULDES.

Do I disturb?

LADY FREDERICK.

Not at all. We've just finished our conversation.

FOULDES.

Well?

MERESTON.

If any one wants to know who the best woman in the world is send 'em to me, and I'll tell them.

LADY FREDERICK.

[_Taking his hand._] You dear! Good-bye.

MERESTON.

Good-bye. And thanks for being so kind to me.

[_He goes out._

FOULDES.

Do I see in front of me my prospective niece?

LADY FREDERICK.

Why d'you ask, Uncle Paradine?

FOULDES.

Singularly enough because I want to know.

LADY FREDERICK.

Well, it so happens--you don't.

FOULDES.

You've refused him?

LADY FREDERICK.

I have.

FOULDES.

Then will you tell me why you've been leading us all such a devil of a dance?

LADY FREDERICK.

Because you interfered with me, and I allow no one to do that.

FOULDES.

Hoity-toity.

LADY FREDERICK.

You weren't really so foolish as to imagine I should marry a boy who set me up on a pedestal and vowed he was unworthy to kiss the hem of my garment?

FOULDES.

Why not?

LADY FREDERICK.

My dear Paradine, I don't want to commit suicide by sheer boredom. There's only one thing in the world more insufferable than being in love.

FOULDES.

And what is that, pray?

LADY FREDERICK.

Why, having some one in love with you.

FOULDES.

I've suffered from it all my life.

LADY FREDERICK.

Think of living up to the ideal Charlie has of me. My hair would turn a hydrogen yellow in a week. And then to be so desperately adored as all that--oh, it's so dull! I should have to wear a mask all day long. I could never venture to be natural in case I shocked him. And notwithstanding all my efforts I should see the illusions tumbling about his ears one by one till he realised I was no ethereal goddess, but a very ordinary human woman neither better nor worse than anybody else.

FOULDES.

Your maxim appears to be, marry any one you like except the man that's in love with you.

LADY FREDERICK.

Ah, but don't you think I might find a man who loved me though he knew me through and through? I'd far rather that he saw my faults and forgave them than that he thought me perfect.

FOULDES.

But how d'you know you've choked the boy off for good?

LADY FREDERICK.

I took good care. I wanted to cure him. If it had been possible I would have shown him my naked soul. But I couldn't do that, so I let him see....

FOULDES.

[_Interrupting._] What!

LADY FREDERICK.

[_Laughing._] No, not quite. I had a dressing-gown on and other paraphernalia. But I made him come here when I wasn't made up, and he sat by while I rouged my cheeks.

FOULDES.

And the young fool thought there was nothing more in you than a carefully prepared complexion?

LADY FREDERICK.

He was very nice about it. But I think he was rather relieved when I refused him.

[_There is a knock at the door._]

GERALD.

[_Outside._] May we come in?

LADY FREDERICK.

Yes do.

_Enter_ GERALD _and_ ROSE _and the_ ADMIRAL.

GERALD.

[_Excitedly._] I say, it's all right. The Admiral's come down like a real brick. I've told him everything.

LADY FREDERICK.

What do you mean? Good-morning, dear Admiral.

ADMIRAL.

Good-morning.

GERALD.

I've made a clean breast of it. I talked it over with Rosie.

ROSE.

And we went to papa together.

GERALD.

And told him that I owed Montgomerie nine hundred pounds.

ROSE.

And we thought papa would make an awful scene.

GERALD.

Raise Cain, don't you know.

ROSE.

But he never said a word.

GERALD.

He was simply ripping over it.

LADY FREDERICK.

[_Putting her hands to her ears._] Oh, oh, oh. For heaven's sake be calm and coherent.

GERALD.

My dear, you don't know what a relief it is.

ROSE.

I saw Gerald was dreadfully worried, and I wormed it out of him.

GERALD.

I'm so glad to be out of the clutches of that brute.

ROSE.

Now we're going to live happily ever afterwards.

[_All the while the_ ADMIRAL _has been trying to get a word in, but each time he is about to start one of the others has broken in._

ADMIRAL.

Silence. [_He puffs and blows._] I never saw such a pair in my life.

LADY FREDERICK.

Now do explain it all, Admiral. I can't make head or tail out of these foolish creatures.

ADMIRAL.

Well, they came and told me that Montgomerie had an I.O.U. of Gerald's for nine hundred pounds and was using it to blackmail you.

FOULDES.

Is that a fact?

LADY FREDERICK.

Yes.

ADMIRAL.

I never liked the man's face. And when they said his terms were that you were to marry him or Gerald would have to send in his papers, I said ...

FOULDES.

Damn his impudence.

ADMIRAL.

How did you know?

FOULDES.

Because I'd have said it myself.

GERALD.

And the Admiral stumped up like a man. He gave me a cheque for the money, and I've just this moment sent it on to Montgomerie.

LADY FREDERICK.

[_Taking both his hands._] It's awfully good of you, and I'm sure you'll never regret that you gave Gerald a chance.

ADMIRAL.

May I have a few words' private conversation with you?

LADY FREDERICK.

Of course. [_To the others._] Make yourselves scarce.

FOULDES.

We'll go on the balcony, shall we?

ADMIRAL.

I'm sorry to trouble you, but it'll only take three minutes.

[GERALD _and_ ROSE _and_ FOULDES _go on to the balcony_.

LADY FREDERICK.

[_When they've gone._] There.

ADMIRAL.

Well, what I wanted to say to you was this: I like Gerald, but I think he wants guiding. D'you follow me?

LADY FREDERICK.

I'm sure he will take your advice always.

ADMIRAL.

It's a woman's hand that he wants. Now if you and I were to join forces we could keep him out of mischief, couldn't we?

LADY FREDERICK.

Oh, I'll come and stay with you whenever you ask me. I love giving good advice when I'm quite sure it won't be taken.

ADMIRAL.

I was thinking of a more permanent arrangement. Look here, why don't you marry me?

LADY FREDERICK.

My dear Admiral!

ADMIRAL.

I don't think an attractive woman like you ought to live alone. She's bound to get in a scrape.

LADY FREDERICK.

It's awfully good of you, but....

ADMIRAL.

You don't think I'm too old, do you?

LADY FREDERICK.

Of course not. You're in the very prime of life.

ADMIRAL.

There's life in the old dog yet, I can tell you.

LADY FREDERICK.

I feel sure of that. I never doubted it for a moment.

ADMIRAL.

Then what have you got against me?

LADY FREDERICK.

You wouldn't like to commit polygamy, would you?

ADMIRAL.

Eh?

LADY FREDERICK.

You see, it's not a question of marrying me only, but all my tradespeople.

ADMIRAL.

I hadn't thought of that.

LADY FREDERICK.

Besides, you're Rose's father, and I'm Gerald's sister. If we married I should be my brother's mother-in-law, and my step-daughter would be my sister. Your daughter would be your sister-in-law, and your brother would just snap his fingers at your fatherly advice.

ADMIRAL.

[Confused.] Eh?

LADY FREDERICK.

I don't know if the prayer-book allows things like that, but if it does I think it's hopelessly immoral.

ADMIRAL.

Well, shall I tell them I've changed my mind and they can't marry?

LADY FREDERICK.

Then there'd be no reason for us to--commit the crime, would there?

ADMIRAL.

I hadn't thought of that. I suppose not.

LADY FREDERICK.

You're not cross with me, are you? I'm very much flattered, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

ADMIRAL.

Not at all, not at all. I only thought it might save trouble.

LADY FREDERICK.

[_Calling._] Gerald. Come along. [_They come in._] We've had our little talk.

GERALD.

Everything satisfactory?

LADY FREDERICK.

[_With a look at the_ ADMIRAL.] Quite.

ADMIRAL.

[_Gruffly._] Quite.

LADY FREDERICK'S FOOTMAN _enters._

FOOTMAN.

Captain Montgomerie wishes to know if he may see your ladyship.

LADY FREDERICK.

I'd forgotten all about him.

GERALD.

Let me go to him, shall I?

LADY FREDERICK.

No, I'm not afraid of him any longer. He can't do anything to you. And as far as I'm concerned it doesn't matter.

GERALD.

Then I'll tell him to go to the devil.

LADY FREDERICK.

No, I'm going to tell him that myself. [_To the_ FOOTMAN.] Ask Captain Montgomerie to come here.

FOOTMAN.

Yes, miladi.

[_Exit._

Lady Frederick.

[_Walking up and down furiously._] I'm going to tell him that myself.

FOULDES.

Now keep calm, Betsy.

LADY FREDERICK.

[_Very deliberately._] I shall not keep calm.

FOULDES.

Remember that you're a perfect lady.

LADY FREDERICK.

Don't interfere with me. I ate humble pie yesterday, and it didn't agree with me at all.

[FOOTMAN _enters to announce_ CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE, _who follows him, and immediately withdraws._

FOOTMAN.

Captain Montgomerie.

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

How d'you do.

[_He is obviously surprised to see the others._

LADY FREDERICK.

[_Pleasantly._] Quite a party, aren't we?

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

Yes. [_A pause._] I hope you don't mind my coming so early?

LADY FREDERICK.

Not at all. You made an appointment for half-past ten.

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

I trust you have good news for me.

LADY FREDERICK.

Captain Montgomerie, every one here knows the circumstances that have brought you.

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

I should have thought it wiser for both our sakes not to make them too public.

LADY FREDERICK.

[_Very amiably._] I don't see why you should be ashamed because you made me a proposal of marriage?

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

I'm sorry you should think it a laughing matter, Lady Frederick.

LADY FREDERICK.

I don't. I never laugh at an impertinence.

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

[_Taken aback._] I beg your pardon.

LADY FREDERICK.

Surely the receipt of my brother's letter was sufficient answer for you. After that you must have guessed there was no likelihood that I should change my mind.

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

What letter? I don't understand.

GERALD.

I sent you a note this morning enclosing a cheque for the money I lost to you.

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

I've not received it.

GERALD.

It must be waiting for you at the hotel.

[CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE _pauses and looks meditatively
at the assembled company_.

LADY FREDERICK.

I think there's nothing for which I need detain you longer.

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

[_Smiling._] I don't think I've quite finished yet. Has it slipped your memory that the two bills fall due to-day? Allow me to present them.

[_He takes them out of his pocket-book._

LADY FREDERICK.

I'm very sorry I can't pay them--at present.

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

I regret that I can't wait. You must pay them.

LADY FREDERICK.

I tell you it's impossible.

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

Then I shall get an order against you.

LADY FREDERICK.

That you may do to your heart's content.

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

You realise the consequences. It's not very nice to be an undischarged bankrupt.

LADY FREDERICK.

Much nicer than to marry a rascally money-lender.

FOULDES.

May I look at these interesting documents?

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

Certainly. [_Blandly._] I haven't the least wish to be offensive.

FOULDES.

[_Taking them._] You fail lamentably in achieving your wish. Three thousand five hundred pounds in all. It seems hardly worth while to make a fuss about so small a sum.

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

I'm in urgent need of money.

FOULDES.

[_Ironically._] So rich a man as you?

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

Even a rich man may be temporarily embarrassed.

FOULDES.

Then be so good as to wait for one moment. [_He sits down at a table and writes a cheque._] No sight is more affecting than that of a millionaire in financial straits.

LADY FREDERICK.

Paradine!

FOULDES.

[_Handing the cheque._] Now, sir, I think that settles it. Will you exchange my cheque for those bills?

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

Damn you, I forgot you.

FOULDES.

You may not be aware that it's unusual to swear in the presence of ladies.

CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE.

[_Looking at the cheque._] I suppose it's all right.

[PARADINE _goes to the door and opens it_.

FOULDES.

There is the window, and here is the door. Which will you choose?

[CAPTAIN MONTGOMERIE _looks at him without
answering, shrugs his shoulders and goes
out_.

LADY FREDERICK.

Oh, Paradine, you are a brick.

GERALD.

I say it's awfully good of you.

FOULDES.

Nonsense. I've got a strong sense of effect, and I always cultivate the dramatic situation.

LADY FREDERICK.

I shall never be able to pay you back, Paradine.

FOULDES.

My dear, I'm not entirely devoid of intelligence.

ADMIRAL.

Well, well, I must be off to take my constitutional.

LADY FREDERICK.

And Rose and Gerald must take care of you. We shall all meet at luncheon.

ADMIRAL.

Yes, yes.

[_The_ ADMIRAL, ROSE _and_ GERALD _go out._ LADY FREDERICK _goes up to_ PARADINE _and takes his hands._

LADY FREDERICK.

Thanks awfully. You are a good friend.

FOULDES.

By George, how your eyes glitter!

LADY FREDERICK.

It's only belladonna, you know.

FOULDES.

I'm not such a fool as my nephew, my dear.

LADY FREDERICK.

Why did you do it?

FOULDES.

D'you know what gratitude is?

LADY FREDERICK.

Thanks for past favours and a lively sense of benefits to come.

FOULDES.

Well, yesterday you had my sister in the hollow of your hand. She gave you great provocation, and you burnt those confounded letters.

LADY FREDERICK.

My dear Paradine, I can't get over my own magnanimity. And what are the benefits to come?

FOULDES.

Well it might be five per cent. on the capital.

LADY FREDERICK.

I don't know why you should squeeze my hands all the time.

FOULDES.

But it isn't. Look here, don't you get awfully tired of racketting about?

LADY FREDERICK.

Oh, my dear friend, I'm sick to death of it. I've got half a mind to retire from the world and bury myself in a hermitage.

FOULDES.

So have I, and I've bought the lease of a little house in Norfolk Street, Park Lane.

LADY FREDERICK.

Just the place for a hermitage--fashionable without being vulgar.

FOULDES.

And I propose to live there quite quietly, and I shall just subsist on a few dried herbs, don't you know.

LADY FREDERICK.

But do have them cooked by a really good French chef; it makes such a difference.

FOULDES.

And what d'you say to joining me?

LADY FREDERICK.

I?

FOULDES.

You.

LADY FREDERICK.

Oh, I _am_ a success to-day. That's another proposal of marriage.

FOULDES.

It sounds very much like it.

LADY FREDERICK.

I've already had three this morning.

FOULDES.

Then I should think you've said "no" quite often enough.

LADY FREDERICK.

Come at ten o'clock to-morrow, and you shall see me make up.

FOULDES.

D'you think that would choke me off? D'you suppose I don't know that behind that very artificial complexion there's a dear little woman called Betsy who's genuine to the bottom of her soul?

LADY FREDERICK.

Oh, don't be so sentimental or I shall cry.

FOULDES.

Well, what is it to be?

LADY FREDERICK.

[_Her voice breaking._] D'you like me still, Paradine, after all these years?

FOULDES.

Yes. [_She looks at him, her lips quivering. He stretches out his arms, and she, breaking down, hides her face on his shoulder._] Now don't be an ass, Betsy.... I know you'll say in a minute I'm the only man you ever loved.

LADY FREDERICK.

[_Looking up with a laugh._] I shan't.... But what will your sister say?

FOULDES.

I'll tell her there was only one way in which I could save Charlie from your clutches.

LADY FREDERICK.

What?

FOULDES.

By marrying you myself.

LADY FREDERICK.

[_Putting up her face._] Monster.

[_He kisses her lips._]

THE END.

* * * * *

_THE EXPLORER_

_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

(_Uniform with this Volume_)

_PLAYS_:

_A MAN OF HONOUR_
_LADY FREDERICK_
_JACK STRAW_
_MRS. DOT_
_PENELOPE_

(_In Preparation_)

_SMITH_
_THE TENTH MAN_
_GRACE_
_LOAVES AND FISHES_

_LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN_

_THE EXPLORER

A MELODRAMA

In Four Acts

By W. S. MAUGHAM

LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN

MCMXII_

_All rights reserved_

This play was first produced at the Lyric Theatre on Saturday, June 13, 1908, with the following cast:

ALEXANDER MACKENZIE LEWIS WALLER
RICHARD LOMAS A. E. GEORGE
DR. ADAMSON CHARLES ROCK
SIR ROBERT BOULGER, BT. OWEN ROUGHWOOD
GEORGE ALLERTON SHIEL BARRY
REV. JAMES CARBERY S. J. WARMINGTON
CAPTAIN MALLINS A. CATON WOODVILLE
MILLER CHARLES CECIL
CHARLES P. DIGAN
MRS. CROWLEY EVA MOORE
LADY KELSEY MARY RORKE
LUCY ALLERTON EVELYN MILLARD

_THE EXPLORER

CHARACTERS_

ALEXANDER MACKENZIE
RICHARD LOMAS
DR. ADAMSON
SIR ROBERT BOULGER, BT.
GEORGE ALLERTON
THE REV. JAMES CARBERY
CAPTAIN MALLINS
MILLER
CHARLES
LADY KELSEY
MRS. CROWLEY
LUCY ALLERTON

TIME: _The Present Day._

SCENE: _The First and Third Acts take place at Lady Kelsey's house; the Second at Mackenzie's camp in Central Africa; and the Fourth at the house of Richard Lomas._

_The Performing Rights of this play are fully protected, and permission to perform it, whether by Amateurs or Professionals, must be obtained in advance from the author's Sole Agent, R. Golding Bright, 20 Green Street, Leicester Square, London, W.C., from whom all particulars can be obtained._

THE EXPLORER

THE FIRST ACT

SCENE: LADY KELSEY'S _drawing-room in Mayfair. At the back is a
window leading on to a balcony. On the right a door leads to the
staircase, and on the left is another door. It is the sumptuous
room of a rich woman._

[LADY KELSEY _is seated, dressed in black; she is a woman of fifty,
kind, emotional, and agitated. She is drying her eyes._ MRS.
CROWLEY, _a pretty little woman of twenty-eight, very beautifully
dressed, vivacious and gesticulative, is watching her quietly. The_
REV. JAMES CARBERY, _a young curate, tall and impressive in
appearance, ponderous and self-important, is very immaculate in a
silk waistcoat and a large gold cross._

CARBERY.

I cannot tell you how sincerely I feel for you in this affliction, Lady Kelsey.

LADY KELSEY.

You're very kind. Every one has been very kind. But I shall never get over it. I shall never hold up my head again.

MRS. CROWLEY.

Nonsense! You talk as if the whole thing weren't perfectly monstrous. Surely you don't for a moment suppose that your brother-in-law won't be able to explain everything away?

LADY KELSEY.

God forbid! But still, it's dreadful to think that at this very moment my poor sister's husband is standing in the felon's dock.

CARBERY.

Dreadful, dreadful!

LADY KELSEY.

If you only knew the agonies I've suffered since Fred was arrested! At first I couldn't believe it, I wouldn't believe it. If I'd only known such a thing was possible, I'd have done anything to help him.

CARBERY.

But had you any idea he was in difficulties?

LADY KELSEY.

He came to me and said he must have three thousand pounds at once. But I'd given him money so often since my poor sister died, and every one said I oughtn't to give him any more. After all, someone must look after his children, and if I don't hoard my money a little, George and Lucy will be penniless.

MRS. CROWLEY.

Oh, you were quite right to refuse.

LADY KELSEY.

I thought it would only go in senseless extravagances as all the rest has gone, and when he said it was a matter of life and death, I couldn't believe it. He'd said that so often.

CARBERY.

It's shocking to think a man of his position and abilities should have come to such a pass.

MRS. CROWLEY.

Dear Mr. Carbery, don't draw the very obvious moral. We're all quite wretched enough as it is.

LADY KELSEY.

And two days later Lucy came to me with a white face to say that he had been arrested for forging a cheque.

CARBERY.

I only met him once, and I'm bound to say I thought him a most charming man.

LADY KELSEY.

Ah, that's what ruined him. He was always so entirely delightful. He could never say no to any one. But there's not an atom of harm in him. I'm quite certain he's never done anything criminal; he may have been foolish, but wicked never.

MRS. CROWLEY.

Of course he'll be able to clear himself. There's not the least doubt about that.

LADY KELSEY.

But think of the disgrace of it. A public trial. And Fred Allerton of all people! The Allertons were always so proud of their family. It was almost a mania with them.

MRS. CROWLEY.

For centuries they've cherished the firm belief that there was no one in the county fit to black their boots.

CARBERY.

Pride goeth before a fall.

MRS. CROWLEY.

[_Smiling._] And proverbs before a clergyman.

LADY KELSEY.

They wouldn't give him bail, so he's remained in prison till now. Of course, I made Lucy and George come here.

MRS. CROWLEY.

You've been quite charming, Lady Kelsey, as every one knew you'd be. But don't think of these wretched weeks of suspense. Think only that Mr. Allerton has got his chance at last. Why, the trial may be over now, and he may this very minute be on his way to this house.

CARBERY.

What will he do when it's over? The position will be surely a little unpleasant.

LADY KELSEY.

I've talked it over with Lucy, and--I've made it possible for them all to go abroad. They'll need rest and quiet. Poor things, poor things!

CARBERY.

I suppose Miss Allerton and George are at the Old Bailey.

LADY KELSEY.

No, their father begged them to stay away. They've been in all day, waiting for the papers.

MRS. CROWLEY.

But who is going to bring you the news? Surely you're not going to wait for the papers?

LADY KELSEY.

Oh, no, Dick Lomas is coming. He's one of the witnesses for Fred, and my nephew Bobby Boulger.

MRS. CROWLEY.

And what about Mr. Mackenzie? He told me he would be there.

CARBERY.

Is that the great traveller? I thought I saw in the paper that he'd already started for Africa.

LADY KELSEY.

Not yet. He's going at the beginning of the month. Oh, he's been so good to us during this time. All our friends have been good to us.

CARBERY.

I shouldn't have thought there was much of the milk of human kindness to overflow in Alexander Mackenzie. By all accounts he dealt with the slave-traders in Africa with a good deal of vigour.

MRS. CROWLEY.

The slave-traders must be quaking in their shoes if they know he's starting out again, for he's made up his mind to exterminate them, and when Alec Mackenzie makes up his mind to do a thing, he appears to do it.

LADY KELSEY.

He has the reputation of a hard man, but no one could be more delightful than he has been to me.

MRS. CROWLEY.

I don't think I like him, but he's certainly a strong man, and in England just now every one's so weak and floppy, it's rather a relief to come across somebody who's got a will of iron and nerves of steel.

[GEORGE ALLERTON _comes in_. _He is a very
young man, good-looking, though at the
moment pale and haggard, with a rather
weak face._

GEORGE.

I thought Lucy was here. [_To_ CARBERY _and_ MRS. CROWLEY.] How d'you do? Have you seen Lucy?

MRS. CROWLEY.

I went to her room for a moment.

GEORGE.

What is she doing?

MRS. CROWLEY.

Reading.

GEORGE.

I wish I could take it as calmly as she does. An outsider would think there was nothing the matter at all. Oh, it's too awful!

LADY KELSEY.

My dear, you must bear up. We must all hope for the best.

GEORGE.

But there is no best. Whatever happens, it means disgrace and dishonour. How could he? How could he?

LADY KELSEY.

No one knows your father as I do, George. I'm sure he's never been anything but thoughtless and foolish.

GEORGE.

Of course he's not been actually criminal. That's absurd. But it's bad enough as it is.

MRS. CROWLEY.

You mustn't take it too much to heart. In another half-hour at the utmost your father will be here with everything cleared up, and you'll be able to go back to Oxford with a clear conscience.

GEORGE.

D'you think I can go to Oxford again when my father has been tried for forgery? No, no! No, no! I'd rather shoot myself.

LADY KELSEY.

My poor boy.... Where have you been all day?

GEORGE.

Heaven knows! I've walked through the streets till I'm dog-tired. Oh, the suspense is too awful. My feet carried me to the Old Bailey, and I would have given anything to go in and see how things were going, but I'd promised the Pater I wouldn't.

LADY KELSEY.

How did he look this morning?

GEORGE.

He was most awfully worn and ill. I don't believe he'll ever get over it. I saw his counsel before the case began. They told me it was bound to come all right.

MRS. CROWLEY.

Is there anything in the evening papers?

GEORGE.

I haven't dared to look. The placards are awful.

CARBERY.

Why, what do they say?

GEORGE.

Can't you imagine? "Gentleman charged with forgery." "County gentleman at the Old Bailey." And all the rest of it. Damn them! Damn them!

LADY KELSEY.

It may be all over by now.

GEORGE.

I feel that I shall never sleep again. I couldn't close my eyes last night. To think that one's own father....

LADY KELSEY.

For goodness' sake be quiet.

GEORGE.

[_Starting._] There's a ring at the bell.

LADY KELSEY.

I've given orders that no one is to be admitted but Dick Lomas and Bobbie.

MRS. CROWLEY.

It must be finished by now. It's one or the other of them come to tell you the result.

LADY KELSEY.

Oh, I'm so frightfully anxious.

GEORGE.

Aunt, you don't think....

LADY KELSEY.

No, no, of course not. They _must_ find him not guilty.

[_The_ BUTLER _enters followed by_ DICK LOMAS,
_a clean-shaven dapper man, with a sharp
face and good-natured smile. He is between
thirty-five and forty, but slim and youthful.
With him comes_ SIR ROBERT BOULGER,
LADY KELSEY'S _nephew, a good-looking,
spruce youth of twenty-two_.

BUTLER.

Mr. Lomas, Sir Robert Boulger.

GEORGE.

[_Excitedly._] Well, well? For God's sake tell us quickly.

DICK.

My dear people, I have nothing to tell.

GEORGE.

Oh!

[_He staggers with sudden faintness and falls
to the floor._

DICK.

Hulloa! What's this?

MRS. CROWLEY.

Poor boy!

[_They crowd round him._

GEORGE.

It's all right. What a fool I am! I was so strung up.

DICK.

You'd better come to the window.

[_He and_ BOULGER _take the boy's arms and lead
him to the window_. GEORGE _leans against
the balcony_.

CARBERY.

I'm afraid I must go away. Every Wednesday at four I read _Little Lord Fauntleroy_ to forty charwomen.

LADY KELSEY.

Good-bye. And thanks so much for coming.

MRS. CROWLEY.

[_Shaking hands with him._] Good-bye. A clergyman always helps one so much to bear other people's misfortunes.

[CARBERY _goes out, and in a moment_ ROBERT
BOULGER _comes back into the room_.

LADY KELSEY.

Is he better?

BOULGER.

Oh, much. He'll be all right in a minute. [LADY KELSEY _goes to the window, and he turns to_ MRS. CROWLEY.] You are a brick to come here to-day, when they're all in such awful trouble.

MRS. CROWLEY.

[_With a little hesitation._] Did you really come away before the trial was ended?

BOULGER.

Why, of course. What did you think? You don't imagine they'll convict him?

MRS. CROWLEY.

It's too dreadful.

BOULGER.

Where is Lucy? I was hoping to get a glimpse of her.

MRS. CROWLEY.

I wouldn't trouble her to-day if I were you. I think she most wants to be left alone.

BOULGER.

I wanted to tell her that if I could do anything at all, she had only to command.

MRS. CROWLEY.

I think she knows that. But I'll give her the message if you like.... You're very devoted.

BOULGER.

I've been madly in love with her ever since I was ten.

MRS. CROWLEY.

Take care then. There's nothing so tedious as the constant lover.

[DICK _comes into the room and speaks to_
ROBERT BOULGER.

DICK.

George is quite well now. He wants you to smoke a cigarette with him.

BOULGER.

Certainly.

[_He goes on to the balcony._

DICK.

[_When_ BOULGER _is gone_.] At least, he will the moment he sees you.

MRS. CROWLEY.

What do you mean by that?

DICK.

Merely that I wanted to talk to you. And Robert Boulger, being a youth of somewhat limited intelligence, seemed in the way.

MRS. CROWLEY.

Why did you leave the Old Bailey?

DICK.

My dear lady, I couldn't stand it. You don't know what it is to sit there and watch a man tortured, a man you've known all your life, whom you've dined with times out of number, in whose house you've stayed. He had just the look of a hunted beast, and his face was grey with terror.

MRS. CROWLEY.

How was the case going?

DICK.

I couldn't judge. I could only see those haggard, despairing eyes.

MRS. CROWLEY.

But you're a barrister. You must have heard his answers. What did he reply to all the questions?

DICK.

He seemed quite dazed. I don't think he took in the gist of his cross-examination.

MRS. CROWLEY.

But the man's innocent.

DICK.

Yes, we all hope that.

MRS. CROWLEY.

What d'you mean? There can be no doubt about that. When he was arrested Lucy went to him and begged him to tell her the exact truth. He swore that he wasn't guilty.

DICK.

Poor Lucy! She's borne up wonderfully. She'll stick to her father through thick and thin.

MRS. CROWLEY.

[_Abruptly._] Mr. Lomas, you're trying to put me off. It's not fair to let Lucy buoy herself up with false hopes. She's absolutely convinced that her father will be acquitted.

DICK.

Well, in another half-hour we shall all know. When I left, the judge was just going to sum up.

MRS. CROWLEY.

Mr. Lomas, what is your opinion?

[_He looks at her steadily for a moment._

DICK.

Were you very much surprised when you heard Fred Allerton was arrested?

MRS. CROWLEY.

Good heavens, I was overwhelmed!

DICK.

[_Dryly._] Ah!

MRS. CROWLEY.

If you aggravate me I shall box your ears.

DICK.

When first I knew Fred he was a very rich man. You know that the Allertons are one of the oldest families in Cheshire?

MRS. CROWLEY.

Yes. I think Lucy's only failing is an inordinate pride in her family. She thinks it very snobbish to have any particular respect for a peer of the realm, but only natural to look up to persons of good family.

DICK.

Ah, you see, you and I who have a quite indecent lack of ancestors, can't realise what the cult of family may be. There are families in the remote parts of England--not very rich, not very clever, and not very good-looking--who would look askance at a belted earl who came to demand their daughter's hand in marriage. They have a natural conviction that they're the salt of the earth, and in their particular corner they rule more absolutely than half the monarchs in Europe. The Allertons were like that. But Fred somehow seemed to belong to a different stock. The first thing he did was to play ducks and drakes with his fortune.

MRS. CROWLEY.

But men ought to be extravagant. That's what they're there for.

DICK.

Women always took his side because he had an irresistible charm of manner.

MRS. CROWLEY.

I think George has, too, a little.

DICK.

I hope for Lucy's sake he will turn out a different man from his father. I wish he weren't so like him in appearance. At last Fred Allerton had squandered every penny, and he married Lady Kelsey's sister, one of the three rich daughters of a Liverpool merchant. But he ran through her money, too, gambling, racing, and so forth, and she died of a broken heart--adoring him still.

MRS. CROWLEY.

You're as well informed as an encyclopædia, Mr. Lomas.

DICK.

You see, I was made the trustee for the poor remains of Mrs. Allerton's fortune, and I know how Lucy has managed to keep all their heads above water. She's wonderful. Ever since she was a child she's held the reins in her own hands. She's stuck to her father, though Lady Kelsey implored her to leave him to his own foolish ways. She saw that George was decently educated. She hid from the world all the little shifts and devices to which she had to resort in order to keep up an appearance of decency.

MRS. CROWLEY.

I suppose you, too, think Fred Allerton little better than a scamp?

DICK.

My dear lady, when a man has had to leave his club because he plays cards too well, it's at least permissible to suppose that there's something odd about him.

MRS. CROWLEY.

Here's Lady Kelsey. For heaven's sake try and amuse her a little.

[LADY KELSEY _comes back into the room_.

LADY KELSEY.

Oh, Dick, I'm so full of my own troubles, I forgot to ask about yours. I'm so sorry to hear that you're ill.

DICK.

On the contrary, I'm in the very best of health.

LADY KELSEY.

But I saw in the papers that you were going to give up your seat in the House owing to ill-health.

DICK.

Of course, I'd forgotten. My heart is seriously deranged.

MRS. CROWLEY.

How dreadful! What is the matter with it?

DICK.

Can you ask? I've banged it about at your feet so long that its functions are excessively impaired. And it's beaten all my waistcoats out of shape.

MRS. CROWLEY.

Don't be so foolish. I was quite alarmed.

DICK.

I'm going to retire.

LADY KELSEY.

From the bar as well?

DICK.

From the bar as well. Henceforth I shall cultivate only such arts and graces as are proper to the man of leisure. My fellow men are a great deal too strenuous, and I propose to offer them the spectacle of a complete idler who demands from the world neither honours nor profit, but only entertainment.

MRS. CROWLEY.

D'you mean to say you're going to give up a large practice and a position which may be very important merely to gratify a foolish whim?

DICK.

I haven't time to work. Life is so much too short. A little while ago it occurred to me that I was nearly forty. [_To_ MRS. CROWLEY.] D'you know the feeling?

MRS. CROWLEY.

No, of course not. Don't be so uncivil.

DICK.

By the way, how old are you?

MRS. CROWLEY.

Twenty-nine!

DICK.

Nonsense! There's no such age.

MRS. CROWLEY.

I beg your pardon, upper parlourmaids are always twenty-nine.

DICK.

For years I've spent eight hours a day meddling with silly persons' silly quarrels, and eight hours more governing the nation. I've never been able to spend more than half my income. I'm merely working myself to death in order to leave a fortune to my nieces, two desperately plain girls with red noses.

LADY KELSEY.

But what are you going to do?

DICK.

Oh, I don't know. Perhaps I'll try my hand at big game shooting, if Alec will take me on this expedition of his. I've always thought shooting would be an agreeable pastime if partridges were the size of well-grown sheep and pheasants a little larger than a cow.

MRS. CROWLEY.

Then the breakdown in your health is all humbug?

DICK.

Absolute humbug. If I were to tell the truth people would shut me up in a lunatic asylum. I've come to the conclusion that there's only one game in the world worth playing, and that's the game of life. I'm rich enough to devote myself to it entirely.

MRS. CROWLEY.

But you'll get bored to death.

DICK.

Not I! Why, I'm growing younger every day. My dear Mrs. Crowley, I don't feel a day more than eighteen.

MRS. CROWLEY.

You certainly look quite twenty-five.

DICK.

I haven't a white hair in my head.

MRS. CROWLEY.

I suppose your servant plucks them out every morning.

DICK.

Oh, very rarely. One a month at the outside.

MRS. CROWLEY.

I think I see one on the left temple.

DICK.

Really! How careless of Charles! I must speak to him.

MRS. CROWLEY.

Let me pluck it out.

DICK.

I shall allow you to do nothing so familiar.

[GEORGE _comes hurriedly into the room_.

GEORGE.

There's Alec Mackenzie. He's just driven up in a cab.

DICK.

He must have come from the trial. Then it's all over.

LADY KELSEY.

Quick! Go to the stairs, or Miller won't let him up.

[GEORGE _runs across the room and opens the door_.

GEORGE.

[_Calling._] Miller, Miller, Mr. Mackenzie's to come up.

[LUCY ALLERTON, _hearing a commotion, comes in. She is older than George, a tall girl, white now, with eyes heavy from want of sleep. She has lived in the country all her life, and has brought up to London a sort of remoteness from the world. She is beautiful in a very English manner, and her clear-cut features are an index to a character in which the moral notions are peculiarly rigid. Self-control is a quality which she possesses in a marked degree, and one which she enormously admires in others_.

LUCY.

Who is it?

GEORGE.

It's Alec Mackenzie. He's come from the trial!

LUCY.

Then it's finished at last. [_She shakes hands with_ DICK.] It's so good of you to come.

BOULGER.

You're perfectly wonderful, Lucy. How can you be so calm?

LUCY.

Because I'm quite sure of the result. D'you imagine I'd doubt my father for a moment?

DICK.

Oh, Lucy, for heaven's sake don't be so sure. You must be prepared for everything.

LUCY.

Oh, no, I know my father. D'you think I've not studied him during these years that I've looked after him? He's a child, with all a child's thoughtlessness and simplicity. And God knows, he's weak. I know his faults better than any one, but it would be impossible for him to do anything criminal.

[_The_ BUTLER _enters, followed by_ ALEC MACKENZIE.
ALEC _is a tall, wiry man, well-knit,
with dark hair and a small red
moustache and beard, cut close to the face.
He is about five-and-thirty. He has great
ease of manner, and there is about him an
air as though he were accustomed that
people should do as he told them._

BUTLER.

Mr. Mackenzie!

GEORGE.

Is it finished? For God's sake tell us quickly, old man.

LUCY.

Why didn't father come with you? Is he following?

ALEC.

Yes, it's all over.

LADY KELSEY.

Thank goodness. The suspense was really too dreadful.

GEORGE.

I knew they'd acquit him. Thank God!

DICK.

[_Looking at_ ALEC'S _face_.] Take care, George.

[_Suddenly_ LUCY _goes up to_ ALEC _and looks at
him. An expression of horror distorts her
features._

MRS. CROWLEY.

Lucy, what is it?

ALEC.

I don't know how I am going to tell you.

LUCY.

You say the trial was over when you came away?

ALEC.

Yes.

LUCY.

The jury had given their verdict?

GEORGE.

Lucy, what are you driving at? You don't think ...?

ALEC.

Your father asked me to come and break it to you.

GEORGE.

He's not dead?

ALEC.

Perhaps it would be better if he were.

LUCY.

They found him guilty?

ALEC.

Yes.

GEORGE.

[_With a groan of despair._] Oh! But it's impossible.

LUCY.

[_Putting her hand on his arm._] Ssh!

LADY KELSEY.

My God, my God! I'm thankful that his wife is dead.

LUCY.

I'm awfully stupid, but if he was innocent, how could they find him guilty? I don't know what you mean.

ALEC.

I am afraid it's very clear.

LUCY.

There must be some horrible mistake.

ALEC.

I wish there were.

GEORGE.

[_Breaking down into tears and sinking into a chair._] Oh, God! What shall I do?

LUCY.

Don't do that, George. We want all our calmness now.

GEORGE.

Don't you see they all expected it? It was only you and I who believed in his innocence.

LUCY.

[_To_ ALEC.] Did you hear the evidence?

ALEC.

Yes.

LUCY.

And you followed it carefully?

ALEC.

Very.

LUCY.

What impression did it leave on your mind?

ALEC.

What can it matter how it affected me?

LUCY.

I want to know.

DICK.

Lucy, you're torturing us all.

LUCY.

If you had been on the jury would your verdict have been the same as theirs?

ALEC.

I should have been obliged to judge according to my conscience.

LUCY.

I see. And you have no doubt that he was guilty?

ALEC.

Don't ask me these horrible questions.

LUCY.

But it's very important. I know that you are a perfectly honest and upright man. If you think he was guilty, there is nothing more to be said.

ALEC.

The case was so plain that the jury were not out of the box for more than ten minutes.

LUCY.

Did the judge say anything?

ALEC.

[_Hesitatingly._] He said there could be no doubt about the justice of the verdict.

LUCY.

What else?... [_He looks at her without answering._] You had better tell me now. I shall see it in the papers to-morrow.

ALEC.

[_As though the words were dragged out of him._] He called it a very mean and shameful crime, worse than another man's because your father was a gentleman of ancient family and bore a name of great honour.

DICK.

[_To_ MRS. CROWLEY.] These judges have a weakness for pointing a moral.

LUCY.

And what was the sentence? [_A pause._] Well?

ALEC.

Seven years' penal servitude.

GEORGE.

Oh, God!

DICK.

My dear girl, I can't tell you how sorry I am.

LADY KELSEY.

Lucy, what is it? You frighten me.

LUCY.

Try and bear up, George. We want all the strength we've got, you and I.

[MRS. CROWLEY _puts her arms round_ LUCY _and kisses her._

MRS. CROWLEY.

Oh, my dear, my dear!

LUCY.

[_Disengaging herself._] You're all very kind, and I know you sympathise with me....

MRS. CROWLEY.

[_Interrupting her._] You know that we'll do everything we can to help you.

LUCY.

It's so good of you. There's really nothing that any one can do. Would you all mind leaving me alone with George? We must talk this over by ourselves.

MRS. CROWLEY.

Very well. Mr. Lomas, will you put me into a cab?

DICK.

Certainly. [_To_ LUCY.] Good-bye, dear, and God bless you.

LUCY.

[_Shaking hands with him._] Don't worry too much about me. If there's anything I want, I'll let you know.

DICK.

Thanks.

[_He goes out with_ MRS. CROWLEY.

ALEC.

May I speak to you for a few minutes alone?

LUCY.

Not now, Mr. Mackenzie. I don't want to seem rude, but ...

ALEC.

[_Interrupting._] I know, and I wouldn't insist unless it were a matter of the most urgent importance.

LUCY.

Very well. George, will you take Aunt Alice to her room? I shall want you in a moment.

GEORGE.

Yes.

LUCY.

[_To_ LADY KELSEY.] Won't you lie down and try and sleep a little? You must be dreadfully exhausted.

LADY KELSEY.

Ah, don't think of me now, dear. Think of yourself.

LUCY.

[_Smiling._] It's purely selfish. It eases me a little to fuss about you.

GEORGE.

I'll wait in the smoking-room, Lucy.

LUCY.

Do!

[GEORGE _and_ LADY KELSEY _go out._

ALEC.

I think your self-command is wonderful. I've never admired you more than at this moment.

LUCY.

You make me feel such a prig. It's not really very strange if I keep my head, because I've had an immensely long training. Since I was fifteen I've been alone to care for George and my father.... Won't you sit down?

ALEC.

I can say what I want in a very few words. You know that in a week I start for Mombassa to take charge of the expedition in North-East Africa. I may be away for three or four years, and I shall be exposed to a certain amount of danger. When I left Africa last time to gather supplies, I determined I would crush those wretched slave-traders, and now I think I have the means to do it.

LUCY.

I think you are engaged on a very great work.

ALEC.

I don't know whether you ever noticed that--that I cared more for you than for any one in the world. But with the long journey in front of me I didn't think it was right to say anything to you. It wasn't fair to ask you to bind yourself during my long absence. And there was always the risk that a stray bullet might put an end to me. I made up my mind that I must wait till I returned. But things have changed now. Lucy, I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me before I go?

LUCY.

No, I can't do that. It's very generous of you, but I couldn't.

ALEC.

Why not? Don't you know that I love you? It would help me so much if I knew that you were waiting for me at home.

LUCY.

I must look after my father. I shall go and live near the--prison, so that I can see him whenever it's possible.

ALEC.

You can do that as well if you're my wife.... You have before you a very difficult and trying time. Won't you let me help you?

LUCY.

I couldn't. Heaven knows, I'm grateful to you for offering to marry me on this day of my bitter humiliation. I shall never forget your great kindness. But I must stand alone. I must devote myself to my father. When he's released I must have a home to bring him to, and I must tend him and care for him. Ah, now he wants me more than ever.

ALEC.

You're very proud.

LUCY.

[_Giving him her hand._] Dear friend, don't think hardly of me. I think I love you as much as it's possible for a woman to love a man.

ALEC.

Lucy!

LUCY.

[_With a smile._] Did you want me to tell you that in so many words? I admire you, and I trust you. I should be very happy if George could grow into so brave and honest a man as you.

ALEC.

They're very modest crumbs with which you want me to be satisfied.

LUCY.

I know in your heart you think I'm right. You would never seek to dissuade me from what I'm convinced is my duty.

ALEC.

Can't I do anything for you at all?

[_She looks at him for a moment intently. She rings the bell._

LUCY.

Yes, you can do me the greatest possible service.

ALEC.

I'm so glad. What is it you mean?

LUCY.

Wait, and I'll tell you. [_The_ BUTLER _enters._] Ask Mr. George to come here, please.

BUTLER.

Very well, Miss.

[_He goes out._

LUCY.

I want you to help me.

[GEORGE _comes in._

GEORGE.

Yes, Lucy?

LUCY.

I want to give into your charge what I love most in the world.... George, have you thought at all what you're going to do now? I'm afraid you can't go back to Oxford.

GEORGE.

No, I don't know what's to become of me. I wish I were dead.

LUCY.

An idea has just come to me. I'm going to ask Mr. Mackenzie to take you with him to Africa. Will you go?

GEORGE.

Yes, yes! I'd do anything to get away from England. I daren't face my friends--I'm too ashamed.

LUCY.

Ah, but it's not to hide yourself that I want you to go. Mr. Mackenzie, I daresay you know that we've always been very proud of our name. And now it's hopelessly dishonoured.

GEORGE.

Lucy, for God's sake ...

LUCY.

[_Turning to him._] Now our only hope is in you. You have the opportunity of achieving a great thing. You can bring back the old name to its old honour. Oh, I wish I were a man. I can do nothing but wait and watch. If I could only fill you with my courage and with my ambition! Mr. Mackenzie, you asked if you could do anything for me. You can give George the chance of wiping out the shame of our family.

ALEC.

Do you know that he will have to suffer every sort of danger and privation, that often he will be parched by the heat, and often soaked to the skin for days together? Sometimes he'll not have enough to eat, and he'll have to work harder than a navvy.

LUCY.

Do you hear, George? Are you willing to go?

GEORGE.

I'll do anything you want me to, Lucy.

ALEC.

And you know that he may get killed. There may be a good deal of fighting.

LUCY.

If he dies a brave man's death, I have nothing more to ask.

ALEC.

[_To_ GEORGE.] Very well. Come with me, and I'll do my best for you.

LUCY.

Ah, thanks. You are really my friend.

ALEC.

And when I come back?

LUCY.

Then, if you still care, ask your question again.

ALEC.

And the answer?

LUCY.

[_With a little smile._] The answer, perhaps, will be different.

END OF THE FIRST ACT

THE SECOND ACT

SCENE: ALEC MACKENZIE'S _tent in North-East Africa. It is night.
The place is dimly lighted. There is a little camp bed in one
corner with a mosquito net over it. There are two or three folding
chairs, some tin cases, and a table. On this a gun is lying._