Chapter XXXIII: Prologue (2)

FALLON: And--he wouldn't?

MRS. HOWARD: Maybe he would--but--he was killed.

FALLON: (Eagerly.) You?

MRS. HOWARD. (In horror.) God, no!

FALLON: It's a pity. That's what you should have done.

MRS. HOWARD: He was a gambler, one night he cheated--the man he cheated, shot him. Then--my baby--died! After two years I came to San Francisco and met you and Tom. Then you went to Klondike and I married Tom.

FALLON: And, you told Tom?

MRS. HOWARD: (Lowering her face.)

FALLON: Helen!

MRS. HOWARP: I know, but I was afraid. I loved him so, and I was afraid.

FALLON: But Tom would have understood. Why, you thought you were married.

MRS. HOWARD: I was afraid. I loved him too much. I was too happy, and I was afraid I'd lose him. (FALLON shakes his head.) But, we were leaving San Francisco forever--to live in the East--where I thought no one knew me.

FALLON: Well?

MRS. HOWARD: Well, one man knew me. Mohun, the man who played the magistrate. He came East, too. Three years ago he saw me one night with Tom in a theatre. He followed us and found out where I lived. The next morning he came to see me, and threatened to tell! And, I was terrified, I lost my head and gave him money. (Slowly.) And I have been giving him money ever since.

FALLON: Helen! You! Fall for blackmail? Why, that isn't you. You're no coward! You should have told the swine to go to Hell, and as soon as Tom came home, you should have told him the whole story.

MRS. HOWARD: (Fiercely.) My story, yes! But not a story Mohun threatens to tell! In a week he had it all backed up with letters, telegrams, God knows what he didn't make me out to be--a vile, degraded creature.

FALLON: And who'd have believed it?

MRS. HOWARD: Everybody! He proved it! And my children. He threatened to stop my children on the way to school and explain to them what kind of a woman their mother was. So, I paid and paid and paid. I robbed Tom, I robbed the children. I cheated them of food, and clothes, I've seen Tom look almost ashamed of us. And when I'd taken all I'd dared from Tom, I pretended I wanted to be more independent, and I learned typewriting, and needlework and decorating, and I worked at night, and when Tom was at the office--to earn money--to give to Mohun. And each time he said it was the last, and each time he came back demanding more. God knows what he does with it, he throws it away--on drink, on women, opium.

FALLON: Dope fiend, too, hey?

MRS. HOWARD: He's that, too; he's everything that's vile; inhuman, pitiless, degenerate. Sometimes, I wonder why God lets him live. (Her voice drops to a whisper.) Sometimes, I almost pray to God to let him die. (FALLON who already has determined to kill MOHUN, receives this speech with indifference, and continues grimly to puff on his cigar.) He's killed my happiness, he's killing me. In keeping him alive, I've grown ill and old. I see the children growing away from me, I see Tom drawing away from me. And now, after all my struggles, after all my torture, Tom must be told. Mohun is in some _new_ trouble. He must have a thousand dollars! I can no more give him a thousand dollars than I can give him New York City. But, if I don't, he'll _tell!_ _What_ am I to do?

FALLON: (Unmoved.) When did you see this--this _thing_ last?

MRS. HOWARD: This morning. He'd read about you in the papers. He knows I knew you in San Francisco. He said you'd "struck it rich," and that you'd give me the money. (Rises, and comes to him.) But, get this straight, Dick. I didn't come here for money. I don't want money. I won't take money. I came to you because you are my best friend, and Tom's best friend, and because I need a _man's brain_, a man's advice.

FALLON: (Contemptuously.) Advice! Hell! Am I the sort of man that gives girls--_advice?_ (With rough tenderness.) Now, you go home to Tom, and tell him I'm coming to dinner. (Impressively.) And leave this _leech_ to me. And, _don't_ worry. This thing never happened, it's just a bad dream, a nightmare. Just throw it from your shoulders like a miner drops his pack. It's never coming back into your life again.

MRS. HOWARD: (Earnestly.) No! I won't _let_ you pay that man! He'd hound you, as he's hounded me!

FALLON: (Indignantly.) Pay him? Me? I haven't got enough _money_ to pay him!

MRS. HOWARD: What!

FALLON: _No man_ on earth has money enough to pay blackmail. Helen, this is what I think of a blackmailer: The _lowest_ thing that crawls, is a man that sends a woman into the streets to earn money for him. Here, in New York, you call them "cadets." Now, there's only one thing on earth lower than a cadet, and that's the blackmailer, the man who gets money from a woman--by threatening her good name--who uses her past as a _club_--who drags out some unhappy act of hers for which she's repented, in tears, on her knees, which the world has forgotten, which God has forgiven. And, for that _past_ sin, that's forgotten and forgiven, this blackguard crucifies her. And the woman--to protect her husband and her children, as you have done--to protect her own good name, that she's worked for and won, starves herself to feed that _leech_. And, you ask me, if _I'm_ going to feed him, too! Not me! Helen, down in lower California, there are black bats, the Mexican calls "Vampire" bats. They come at night and fasten on the sides of the horses and drink their blood. And, in the morning when you come to saddle up, you'll find the horses too weak to walk, and hanging to their flanks these vampires, swollen and bloated and drunk with blood. Now, I've just as much sympathy for Mr. Mohun, as I have for those vampires, and, I'm going to treat him just as I treat them! Where is he?

MRS. HOWARD: Downstairs. In the cafe.

FALLON: Here, in this hotel?

MRS. HOWARD: Yes.

FALLON: (Half to himself.) Good!

MRS. HOWARD: He said he'd wait until I telephoned him that you would pay. If you won't, he's going straight to Tom.

FALLON: He is, is he? Helen, I hate to have you speak to him again, but, unless he hears your voice, he won't come upstairs. (Motions towards telephone.) Tell him I'll see him in ten minutes. Tell him I've agreed to make it all right.

MRS. HOWARD: But, _how_, Dick, _how_?

FALLON: Don't you worry about that. I'm going to send him away. Out of the country. He won't trouble you any more.

MRS. HOWARD: But he won't _go_. He's promised _me_ to go many times--

FALLON: Yes, but he's not dealing with a woman, now, he's dealing with a man, with boots on. Do as I tell you.

(MRS. HOWARD sits at writing desk and takes receiver off telephone. FALLON leans against table right, puffing quickly on his cigar, and glancing impatiently at the valise that holds his revolver.)

MRS. HOWARD: Give me the cafe, please. Is this the cafe? I want to speak to a Mr. Mohun, he is waiting to be called up--oh, thank you. (To FALLON.) He's coming. (To 'phone.) I have seen that man and he says he'll take up that debt, and pay it. Yes, now, at _once_. You're to wait for ten minutes, until he can get the money, and then, he'll telephone you to come up. I don't know, I'll ask. (To Fallon.) He says it must be in _cash_.

FALLON: (Sarcastically.) Why, certainly! That'll be all right. (MRS. HOWARD Places her hand over the mouth piece.)

MRS. HOWARD: I'll not _let_ you pay him!

FALLON: I'm not going to! I'm going to _give_ him just what's coming to him. Tell him, it'll be all right.

MRS. HOWARD: (To 'phone.) He says to tell you, it'll be all right. The room is 210 on the third floor. In ten minutes, yes. (She rises.)

FALLON: Now, then, you go back to Tom and get dinner ready. Don't forget I'm coming to _dinner_. And the children must come to dinner, _too_. We'll have a happy, good old-time reunion.

MRS. HOWARD: (With hand on door knob of door left.) Dick, how can I thank you?

FALLON: Don't let me catch you trying.

MRS. HOWARD: God bless you, Dick. (With a sudden hope.) And you really believe you can make him _go_?

FALLON: Don't worry! I'm sure of it.

MRS. HOWARD: And, you think he won't come back?

FALLON: (After a pause, gravely.) I _know_ he won't come back.

MRS. HOWARD: God bless you, Dick!

FALLON: See you at dinner.

(MRS. HOWARD exits. FALLON stands considering, and chewing on his cigar. Then, he crosses room briskly and lowers the blind at each window. Opens valise and examines revolver. Places the revolver in his left hip pocket. Then, in a matter-of-course manner from his right hand pocket, he draws his automatic pistol. This, as though assured he would find loaded, he examines in a quick, perfunctory way, and replaces. He crosses left to desk, and taking from it a cheque book, writes out a cheque, which he tears from the book, and holds in his right hand. With left hand he removes the receiver from the telephone.)

Give me Murray Hill 2828. Hello, is this the Corn and Grain Bank? I want to speak to the cashier. Hello, is that the cashier? This is Richard Fallon, of San Francisco, speaking from the Hotel Wisteria. I opened an account with you day before yesterday, for two hundred thousand dollars. Yes, this is Mr. Fallon speaking. I made out a cheque yesterday payable to Louis Mohun (Glances at cheque.), dated August 4th, for two thousand dollars. I want to know if he's cashed it in yet? He hasn't, hey? Good! (He continues to look at cheque, to impress upon audience, that the cheque they have just seen him write, is the one which he is speaking about.) Well, I want to stop payment on that cheque. Yes, yes. I made it out under _pressure_, and I've decided not to stand for it. Yes, _sort_ of a hold up! I guess that's why he was afraid to cash it. You'll attend to that, will you? Thank you. Good-bye. (He takes an envelope from desk, places cheque in it and puts envelope in his breast pocket. Again takes off receiver.) Hello, give me the cashier, please. Am I speaking to the cashier of the hotel? This is Mr. Fallon in room 210. Is your hotel detective in the lobby? He is? Good! What--what sort of a man is he, is he a man I can rely on? A Pinkerton, hey? That's good enough! Well, I wish you'd give him a thousand dollars for me in hundreds. Ten hundred-dollar bills, and before you send them up, I wish you'd mark them and take their numbers. What? No, there's no trouble. I just want to see that the right bills go to the right people, that's all. Thank you.

(He crosses to door centre, and taking key from the bedroom side, places it in keyhole on side of door in view of the audience. He turns the key several times. He takes the revolver from his left hip pocket and holding it in his right hand, rehearses shooting under his left arm through his coat which he holds from him by the fingers of his left hand. Shifting revolver to his left hand, he takes the automatic from his right hip pocket, and goes through the motions of firing with both guns in opposite directions. His pantomine must show he intends making use of both guns at the same time, using one apparently upon himself, and the other, in earnest, upon another person. He replaces the revolvers in his pockets. There is a knock at the door.)

Come in.

(KELLY enters. In his hand he carries an envelope. He is an elderly man with grey hair, neatly dressed and carrying a straw hat. He has an air of authority. His manner to FALLON is respectful.)

KELLY: Afternoon, Mr. Fallon. I am Kelly, the house detective.

FALLON: Yes, I know. I've seen you in the lobby.

KELLY: Mr. Parmelee said I was to give you this. (Gives envelope to FALLON. FALLON takes out ten yellow-back bills.) There ought to be a thousand dollars there in hundreds.

FALLON: That's right. Now, will you just sit over there, and as I read the numbers, you write them down.

KELLY: Mr. Parmelee made a note of the numbers, Mr. Fallon.

FALLON: I know. I want you to identify them too.

KELLY: I can do that. I saw him mark them.

FALLON: Good. And if you saw these bills in the next five minutes you'd be able to swear they're the same bills you gave me?

KELLY: Sure. (Starts towards door.)

FALLON: Wait a minute. Sit down, Kelly. (KELLY seats himself in Morris chair, holding his hat between his knees.) Kelly, this hotel engages you from the Pinkertons to stay around the place, and--protect the guests?

KELLY: Yes, sir.

FALLON: Well, there's a man downstairs thinks he has a claim on this money. Now, I'd like you to wait in that bedroom and listen to what he says with a view to putting him in jail.

KELLY: Blackmail, Mr. Fallon?

FALLON: Yes, blackmail.

KELLY: (Eagerly.) And you're not going to stand for it?

FALLON: I am not!

KELLY: (Earnestly.) Good! That's the only way to treat those dogs. Never _give up_, never _give up_!

FALLON: No, but yesterday, I _had_ to give up. He put a gun at my head.

KELLY: (Excitedly.) Where? Not in this hotel?

FALLON: Yes, in this room. I gave him a cheque for two thousand dollars. That made him think I was _easy_, and he telephoned this morning that he's coming back for another thousand, and he wants it in _cash_. That's why I marked those bills.

KELLY: Why, we got him _now_! He's as good as _dead_.

FALLON: (Startled.) What?

KELLY: I say, we've got him nailed now.

FALLON: Oh, yes. (Pause.) He hasn't turned in the cheque yet--I've just called up the bank to find out. I guess he means to hold _that_ over my head, hey?

KELLY: More likely he's _afraid_ of it. (Eagerly.) We may _get_ that back, too. We may find it _on him_.

FALLON: What? Yes, as _you_ say, we may find it on him.

KELLY: (Eagerly.) And as soon as he gets those bills in his clothes, you give me the high sign (Fiercely.)--and we'll _nail_ him!

FALLON: Yes, we'll nail him. And, if he puts his gun in my face _today_, he won't catch me empty-handed the second time. (Draws automatic from his pocket.) I'm _ready_ for him, today!

KELLY: (Greatly concerned.) Here, none of _that_ stuff, Mr. Fallon. A gentleman like you can't take _that_ chance.

FALLON: Chance? Kelly, I haven't _always_ lived in a swell hotel. The man that gets the drop on _me_--_when_ I've got a gun--has got to be damned quick.

KELLY: That's just what I mean! I'm not thinking of him, I'm thinking of _you_. Give me that gun.

FALLON: Certainly not.

KELLY: You don't want to go to jail for a rat like that.

FALLON: I don't mean to go to jail, and, I don't mean to die, either. For the last six years I've been living on melted ice and bacon. Now, I'm worth seven million dollars. I'm thirty-five years old and my life is in front of me. And, I don't mean to waste one hour of it in a jail, and I don't mean to let any blackmailer take it away from me.

KELLY: You don't want no judge to take it away from you, either! You're not in the Klondike.

FALLON: I guess, I've got a right to _defend_ myself, _anywhere_.

KELLY: Yes, but you'll get excited and--

FALLON: (Quietly.) I? Excited? I never get excited. The last time I was excited was when I was seven years old, and the circus came to town.

KELLY: Don't mix up in this. What am _I_ here for?

FALLON: You won't be here. How can you help me in that room, when a fellow's pumping lead into my stomach in this one?

KELLY: He won't pump no lead.

FALLON: (Carelessly.) I hope not. But, if he does, he's got to do it awful quick. (Motions towards centre door.) Now, you go in there and shut the door, and I'll talk out here. And you tell me if you can hear what I say? (KELLY goes into bedroom and closes door. FALLON walks to door R. with his back turned towards KELLY.) Have you got the door shut tight?

KELLY: (From bedroom.) Yes.

FALLON: (Speaks in a loud tone, to an imaginary person.) No, not another penny. If I pay you, will you promise not to take the story to the newspapers? I give you this thousand dollars--(Turns towards centre door. KELLY opens door.) Could you hear me?

KELLY: Yes, I could hear _you_, but _he_ won't talk that loud. You put him in that chair (Points to Morris chair.)--so that he'll sit facing me, and you stand over there (Points at safe.)--so then he'll have to speak up.

FALLON: I see. Are you all ready?

KELLY: Yes. (KELLY closes door. FALLON goes to desk. Lifts both guns from his pocket an inch or two, and then takes receiver from telephone. To 'phone.) Give me the cafe, please. Is this the cafe? There's a Mr. Mohun down there waiting to hear from Mr. Fallon--yes. All right. Tell him to come up. (KELLY opens door.)

KELLY: Hist. Listen, this guy knows what he's up against; he knows it might land him in Sing Sing and he'll be leery of this door being shut. So, if he insists on looking in here, you speak up loud, and say, "That's my bedroom. It's empty." Say it quick enough to give me time to get out into the hall.

FALLON: I see.

KELLY: Then, when he's had his look around, you slam the door shut again, and I'll come back into the bedroom. Have you got it?

FALLON: I understand. (In loud voice.) That's my bedroom. It's empty.

KELLY: That's the office for me to sneak into the hall. (In bedroom, he disappears right.)

FALLON: (At open door, rehearsing.) You see, the room is empty. (Closes the door with a bang. Pause, then he calls.) Are you there now, Kelly?

KELLY: Yes, I'm here.

(FALLON stands looking at the key in the door. For an instant his hand falters over it as though he would risk turning it. Then, he shakes his head, and walks to table right. There is a low knock at door left.)

FALLON: Come in.

(MOHUN enters door left. He is lean, keen faced, watchful. He is a head taller than FALLON. His manner always has an undercurrent of insolence.)

MOHUN: Afternoon. Am I speaking to Mr. Fallon?

FALLON: Yes. Lou Mohun?

MOHUN: Yes. (MOHUN stands warily at the door. Glances cautiously around the room. Bends over quite openly to look under the sofa. For some seconds his eyes rest with a smile on bedroom door. He speaks slowly, unemotionally.) A mutual friend of ours said you wanted to see me.

FALLON: (Sharply.) We've no mutual friend. No one's in this but you and me. You want to get that straight!

MOHUN: (Easily.) All right. That's all right. Well, what do you want to see me about?

(FALLON speaks in a loud voice. In the speeches that follow, it must be apparent that his loud tone and excited manner is assumed, and is intended only to convince KELLY.)

FALLON: I understand, you think you have a claim on me for a thousand dollars. And, I'm going to give it to you. But, first, I want a plain talk with you. (Sharply.) Are you listening to me?

MOHUN: No, not yet. Before there's any plain talking, I want to know where that door leads to.

FALLON: What door? That? (In a louder voice.) That's my bedroom. It's empty. Is that what you want? Think I got someone in there? Do you want to look for yourself? (Opens door.) Go on in, and look. (MOHUN takes a step forward, and peers past FALLON into bedroom.) Go on, search it. Look under the bed.

MOHUN: I guess that's all right.

FALLON: Don't you _want_ to look?

MOHUN: (Falling back to door left.) Not now. No need to, if you're willing to let me. (Impatiently.) Go on. What is it you want with me? (FALLON closes door with a slam. Comes down to table.)

FALLON: What do I want? I want you to understand that this is the last time you come to me for money.

MOHUN: (Indifferently.) That's all right.

FALLON: No, its not all right. (Takes out bills.) Before I give you this, you've got to promise me to keep silent. I'll stand for no more blackmail.

MOHUN: Don't talk so loud. I'm not deaf. Look here, Mr. Fallon, I didn't come here to be shouted at, I came here to get the money you promised me.

FALLON: Well, here it is. (Gives him bills. MOHUN sticks them in his right-hand vest pocket.) No, you listen to me. (As soon as he obtains the money, MOHUN'S manner changes. He is amused, and insolent.)

MOHUN: No, not a bit like it. Now that I've got _this_, you'll have to listen to me. (Moves deliberately to Morris chair and seats himself) Mr. Fallon, I don't like your tone.

FALLON: (Slowly.) You--don't--like my tone? I don't think I understand you.

MOHUN: You talk like you had a whip over me. You don't seem to see that I got you dead to rights.

FALLON: (In pretended alarm.) Have you?

MOHUN: Have I? I got a mortgage on you for life. You got in wrong when you gave me that money. Don't you see that? Mr. Fallon, I've been taking out information about you. Some 'Frisco lads tell me you used to be pretty sweet on a certain party, but she chucked you and married the other fellow. But the first day you come back a millionaire she visits your rooms--and you give her a thousand dollars! Why? She can't tell. You can't tell. But _I_ can tell. I can tell her _husband_. He's only got to ask the hotel clerk and the cashier and the bell hops, and when I've told my story _as I'll tell it_--he's liable to shoot you. (There is a pause during which FALLON stares at MOHUN incredulously.) Let it sink in, Mr. Fallon.

FALLON: (Quietly.) I am--letting it sink in.

MOHUN: Now, a thousand dollars is all well enough from a lady that has to scrape to find it, but a thousand dollars from a millionaire like you is a joke. And unless you want me to go to the husband, you'll come across with fifty thousand dollars, and until I get it, I'm not going to leave this room.

FALLON: (Solemnly.) Then, I don't believe you are going to leave this room.

MOHUN: (Impudently.) Oh, I'll go when I'm ready.

FALLON: (Going up close to centre door.) Let me understand you. You are going to this husband with a lie that will wreck his faith in his wife, that will wreck his faith in his best friend, unless I give you a thousand dollars?

MOHUN: No! Fifty thousand dollars!

FALLON: Fifty thousand. It's the same thing. But, you'd keep quiet for ten dollars, wouldn't you, if that was all I had?

MOHUN: (Grinning at him.) If that was all you had.

FALLON: (In a whisper, slowly, impressively.) Then, Mr. Mohun (He raises his right arm.), may--God--have mercy--on your soul. (In loud, excited tones and purposely, so that MOHUN can see him, he turns his face towards the centre door.) I won't pay that fifty thousand. I won't stand for blackmail, you're robbing--(MOHUN leaps to his feet, and points at centre door.)

MOHUN: (Fiercely.) Here. What are you doing? You're trying to trap me? There _is_ someone in that room. (FALLON laughs mockingly at MOHUN, but speaks for KELLY to hear.)

FALLON: Don't go near that room. (With his left hand he quickly turns the key in the door.) Don't lock that door! Don't lock that door! Kelly, he's locked the door. (He draws the revolver from his left pocket. KELLY is heard shaking the handle of the door, and beating upon the panel. FALLON speaks in a whisper.) I told you, you'd never leave this room, Mr. Mohun. (In a loud, excited tone.) Drop that gun. Drop that gun. Don't point that gun at me! (Still smiling mockingly at MOHUN, FALLON shoots twice through his own coat on the left side, throws the gun at MOHUN'S feet, and drawing his automatic pistol, shoves it against MOHUN'S stomach and fires. MOHUN falls back into the Morris chair dead.) (Shouts loudly.) Break in the door. Break in the door. (From his pocket he takes the envelope containing the cheque, and sticks it into the inside pocket of MOHUN'S coat. Then turns to table, right, as KELLY bursts open the door and sees MOHUN.)

KELLY: My God, Mr. Fallon. I _told_ you to give me that gun!

FALLON: Have I hurt him?

KELLY: (Bending over body.) Hurt him? You've killed him! (FALLON with his face turned from KELLY, smiles. He speaks with pretended emotion.) Killed him? Here, you're an officer. (Throws gun on table.) I give myself up. (KELLY runs to hand telephone. FALLON picks up his cigar from the table and a box of matches. Starts to light cigar, but seeing KELLY at 'phone hesitates and listens eagerly.)

KELLY: (To 'phone.) Send the hotel doctor here. Quick! Mr. Fallon's wounded. (To FALLON.) Are you badly hurt? (FALLON places his left hand on his left hip under the coat and removes it showing the fingers covered with blood.)

FALLON: Only scratched.

KELLY: (To 'phone.) Some crank tried to shoot him up. Mr. Fallon fired back and killed him. (Pause.) _No_! Mr. Fallon killed _him_! (Pause.) Of course, in self-defense, you fool, _of course_, in self-defense! (KELLY slams back the receiver, and rising quickly, turns to the right and stands with hands on his hips, and back to audience, gazing down at MOHUN. He does not once look at FALLON.)

FALLON: (On hearing the words "in self-defense" sighs, smiles and striking the match, lights the cigar as)

THE CURTAIN FALLS.

THE SYSTEM A ONE-ACT MELODRAMA

BY TAYLOR GRANVILLE Author, producer and star of "The Star Bout," "The Futurity Winner," "The Yellow Streak," Etc., Etc.

IN COLLABORATION WITH

JUNIE MCCREE AND EDWARD CLARK Author of "The Marital Author of "The Winning Coach," "Neighbors," "Coon Widows," "When We Grow Town Divorcons," Etc., Etc. Up," Etc., Etc.

THE SYSTEM

CHARACTERS

BILLY BRADLEY . . . . . . Alias "The Eel." DAN MCCARTHY . . . . . . Inspector of Police. TIM DUGAN . . . . . . . . Lieutenant of Police. JAMES O'MARA. . . . . . . Desk Lieutenant. OFFICER FLYNN . . . . . . Patrolman. BOBBY PERKINS . . . . . . A Police Reporter. HAROLD BROOKTHORNE . . . A Cub Reporter. MR. INBAD . . . . . . . . A Souse. JIM, TOM . . . . . . . . Central Office Men. MRS. DEMMING WORTHINGTON. A Noted Horsewoman. JANITRESS . . . . . . . . At 327 East Broadway. GOLDIE MARSHALL . . . . . The Eel's "Gal."

Policemen, Citizens, Morbid Crowds, Etc.

SCENE I

POLICE STATION, NEW YORK CITY. EVENING

Door C. Door L. 2nd E. leading below to cells. Windows in flat R. and L. showing two green lights in front of Station. Street backing, showing the other side of Street. Bench at L. window, chair at R. window. Small platform R. 2, with desk, railing, etc. Chairs on Platform.

AT RISE: (O'Mara at desk speaking through telephone. PERKINS in chair R., writing. FLYNN searching INBAD, who is intoxicated.)

O'MARA: (Speaking through 'phone.) All right! Good-bye! (Puts 'phone down.) Take him down, that fellow is a champion souse.

INBAD: (As FLYNN is jerking him off L.) Thatsh what I am, and I'll defend my title against all comers. (Exit INBAD followed by FLYNN.)

PERKINS: (Coming R. to O'MARA.) That Worthington robbery will make a corking story, if it's true. (Starts for door C.)

O'MARA: Well, why don't you wait till the pinch comes off and then get the story for sure?

PERKINS: Your word's good enough.

O'MARA: But I haven't given you me word. I don't know whether they've nailed him yet or not.

PERKINS: (Coming back to desk railing R.) (Disappointed.) Oh, I thought you said they'd got him.

O'MARA: That's the way you reporters twist everything. I said "Dugan was after him," that's all.

PERKINS: Well, that's as good as got him; anything Dugan sets out to get, comes pretty near materializing. (Starts C., stops on meeting BROOKY, who enters door C.) Hello! Brooky! Just in time. Here's a chance for you to distinguish yourself in your new capacity.

BROOKY: (Coming C.) Got a story?

PERKINS: A pippin! Listen to this. (Reads from notes.) "Police fishing. Make a big haul! Throw out the dragnet and once more capture the Eel." A very slippery article.

BROOKY: I don't understand.

PERKINS: Oh, can't you understand, the Eel is the nickname, the alias of one of the slickest crooks in the country, Billy Bradley.

BROOKY: Billy Bradley? Oh yes, I've heard of him.

PERKINS: Well, that's the Eel.

BROOKY: Oh I see; well, what about him?

PERKINS: He's been taken, or at least is going to be.

BROOKY: What's he done?

PERKINS: (Looking at BROOKY surprised.) You're up on that Worthington robbery, aren't you?

BROOKY: What robbery is that?

PERKINS: (Disgusted.) Don't tell me you don't know that burglars entered Mrs. Demming Worthington's house last night, and made off with a five thousand dollar necklace?

BROOKY: I hadn't heard of it.

PERKINS: Good heavens, man! hasn't your paper got it?

BROOKY: (Going L.) I don't know. I never read our paper. (Perkins follows BROOKY in disgust.)

O'MARA: (Smiling.) Well, I don't know but what you're just as well off. (Enter INSPECTOR door C., O'MARA comes from behind desk and stands above it for INSPECTOR to cross him.)

PERKINS: Good evenin', Inspector.

INSPECTOR: (Glancing about room, without stopping, goes straight to stool behind desk.) How are you, boys! (INSPECTOR salutes O'MARA as he passes him, O'MARA returns the salute, then goes to upper end of desk, where he stands.)

BROOKY: How do you do, sir.

INSPECTOR: (Back of desk.) Well, O'Mara. They've got the Eel.

O'MARA: They have?

INSPECTOR: Dugan is on his way up with him now.

PERKINS: I guess it will go pretty hard with him, won't it Inspector?

INSPECTOR: If he is guilty.

PERKINS: Well, he is, isn't he?

INSPECTOR: I believe every man innocent until proven guilty.

BROOKY: Bravo, Inspector! Those are my sentiments.

INSPECTOR: I've sent for Mrs. Worthington. When we get her, Goldie, the Eel and Dugan together, we shall be able to get a clearer view on the matter. Bring up Goldie. (O'MARA exits door L.)

PERKINS: (Coming R. C.) Inspector, has this girl Goldie Marshall ever been up before?

INSPECTOR: Well, she's been arrested a number of times, on shop-lifting charges, but we've never been able to prove anything on her.

PERKINS: Perhaps she's square after all.

INSPECTOR: Not at all unlikely; as I said before, I believe a person innocent until proven guilty.

BROOKY: (Crossing R. to railing of desk.) And as I said before--Bravo, old chap. (The INSPECTOR looks at BROOKY sternly and he retires up stage R. confusedly, bumping into chair, sits in it.)

PERKINS: (Crossing R. to railing.) Inspector?

INSPECTOR: Well?

PERKINS: I suppose many a person has been railroaded through the System?

INSPECTOR: (Rising angrily.) System! How dare you! What do you mean?

PERKINS: I--I--beg your pardon, Inspector, I--

BROOKY: (Rising from chair and coming down L. of PERKINS.) I say, don't make a bally ass of yourself.

INSPECTOR: Don't ever let me hear you say that again. (Voices of O'MARA and GOLDIE are heard off L.) (Enter GOLDIE, followed by O'MARA. Door L.)

GOLDIE: (Jerking away from O'MARA.) Well, don't yank my arm off. (Looking around room.) I know the way. (Starts R.)

O'MARA: (Following GOLDIE, catches her by the back of neck as she reaches C.) Don't give me any back talk or I'll yank your neck off.

INSPECTOR: O'Mara! let go your hold. Don't forget you're dealing with a woman. (O'MARA releases hold.)

GOLDIE: (Mockingly courteous.) Thanks, Inspector! What'll I send you for Christmas, a bunch of sweet forget-me-nots or a barrel of pickles?

INSPECTOR: Goldie, don't be so incorrigible.

GOLDIE: Gee! but you're an educated guy.

INSPECTOR: Have a seat. (O'MARA jumps for chair with mock politeness.)

GOLDIE: (To reporters.) He's polite, too. (Crosses to chair.)

INSPECTOR: Well, Goldie!

GOLDIE: (Sitting.) Well, Inspector!

INSPECTOR: Do you intend to stay here to-night or are you going to get bail?

GOLDIE: Where would I get bail?

INSPECTOR: I thought perhaps some gentleman friend of yours--

GOLDIE: (Rising angrily.) I ain't got no gentlemen friends. What do you think I am, a Moll? (Sits.)

INSPECTOR: Don't make any grand stand play now, Goldie!

GOLDIE: Well, if you mean that I'm a bad girl, you'd better not say it (Rising, crosses to desk and pounds angrily on railing.), 'cause I ain't, see?

INSPECTOR: Well, you don't deny that you and the Eel are sweethearts?

GOLDIE: Was, yes. Gee, we was goin' to get married, until in a jealous huff he tried to kill me and was shipped for two years for assault and battery, but it wasn't none of my doin's.

INSPECTOR: Didn't you prefer charges against him?

GOLDIE: I did not. Do you think I'd squeal on a pal? If it wasn't for Dugan, they'd turn the Eel loose. (Sits.)

INSPECTOR: Why Dugan?

GOLDIE: Didn't he shove him in?

INSPECTOR: He was simply acting in his official duty.

GOLDIE: Official duty, my eye.

INSPECTOR: What other motive could Mr. Dugan possibly have had?

GOLDIE: (With a sneer.) Maybe you don't know. Well, I'll tell you. He thought by shovin' the Eel out of the way, he could get me.

INSPECTOR: And did he?

GOLDIE: Not so as you could notice it. I ain't no fall guy for nobody.

INSPECTOR: Now that the Eel's been sprung, are you going back to him?

GOLDIE: (Almost in tears.) Oh gee! I wish I could, but there's nothing doin', he's sore on me.

INSPECTOR: When did you last see him?

GOLDIE: Just before he went up, two years ago.

INSPECTOR: How about this Worthington robbery, wasn't he in on it?

GOLDIE: (Hastily.) No, he wasn't.

INSPECTOR: (Quickly.) Who was?

GOLDIE: (After a slight pause as though to confess.) Well, I'll tell you. There was three of us, me, Jesse James, and Christopher Columbus. (Looks first at INSPECTOR then to PERKINS.) Ah, put it down on your little yellow paper.

INSPECTOR: (Angrily.) Answers like that'll get you nothing here.

GOLDIE: See, you won't believe me when I tell you.

INSPECTOR: Silence, I say! (To O'MARA.) Take her down. (GOLDIE rises from chair leisurely and strolls impudently L. as she comes to BROOKY.) Oh, poo! poo!

INSPECTOR: (Stopping GOLDIE at door L.) And you'll stay down unless you have a confession to make.

GOLDIE: (At door L.) Say, Inspector, if you're waitin' for a confession from me, you'll wait until pigs fly kites. (Exit door L. GOLDIE followed by O'MARA.) (PERKINS and BROOKY look off after them.)

BROOKY: What a little terror!

PERKINS: Looks mighty like her work, doesn't it, Inspector?

INSPECTOR: No! The job has all the ear marks of the Eel, but she undoubtedly is his accomplice. (Enter MRS. WORTHINGTON door C., she looks around uncomfortably and as she comes down C., BROOKY and PERKINS on seeing her, remove their hats. INSPECTOR rises and indicates chair R. C.) Ah! Mrs. Worthington! (Indicating Reporters.) Have you any objection to talking for publication?

MRS. WORTHINGTON: (Looking toward Reports.) No, not at all. (PERKINS has note paper and takes down as she talks.)

INSPECTOR: Will you kindly be seated? And we shall proceed? (MRS. W. sits.) Now in the first place, how long had this girl, Goldie Marshall, been in your employ?

MRS. WORTHINGTON: Just one week.

INSPECTOR: (Half aside.) That's about the time the Eel was sprung. (To Mrs. W.) Had you missed anything else up to the time of this robbery?

MRS. WORTHINGTON: No, nothing.

INSPECTOR: Who else was in the house at the time, besides yourself and the maid?

MRS. WORTHINGTON: Only my guests who were at dinner with me. Mr. Appleby and his wife.

INSPECTOR: The horseowner?

MRS. WORTHINGTON: Yes, and a Miss Hazelton from Pittsburgh.

INSPECTOR: Would you suspect them?

MRS. WORTHINGTON: Well, hardly.

INSPECTOR: Anyone else?

MRS. WORTHINGTON: Yes, Mr. Dugan.

INSPECTOR: What Dugan?

MRS. WORTHINGTON: Why, your Mr. Dugan here.

INSPECTOR: Oh, Tim Dugan.

MRS. WORTHINGTON: Yes, we're great friends, and he frequently dines at my house. (Low murmur begins in the distance and grows louder. MRS. W. rises in fear and appeals to the INSPECTOR, who comes from behind the desk and--)

INSPECTOR: Don't be alarmed, Mrs. Worthington, just step behind the desk. (MRS. WORTHINGTON steps back of desk and sits in chair below stool. INSPECTOR replaces the chair in which MRS. W. has been sitting in front of the window R. C. then returns to back of desk where he stands. The REPORTERS at first sound show excitement, PERKINS goes to door C. and looks off R. B.)

PERKINS: (At door C.) It's Dugan and he's got the Eel. (Goes down L. C.) (DUGAN is seen out of window R. bringing the EEL along, who is hand-cuffed. They are followed by a noisy crowd. DUGAN throws the EEL down, C., then chases the crowd away from door C.)

EEL: (Looks around smiling until he sees INSPECTOR.) Hello, Inspector! Gee! it's real oil for the wicks of my lamps to see you again.

DUGAN: (Coming down C.) Yes, he's tickled to death to see you, ain't you, Billy?

EEL: (Angrily.) The Eel to you, Copper; Billy to my pals.

INSPECTOR: Well, Billy!

EEL: That's right, Inspector, you're my pal. (Movement from INSPECTOR.) Oh, I ain't forgot when you was just a plain Bull and saved me from doin' my first bit on a phoney charge. They tried to railroad me, you remember, and Dugan here was runnin' the engine.

INSPECTOR: Oh, you've got Dugan wrong, Billy, he bears you no malice.

EEL: No, it's a mistake, he just loves me. Say, he thinks so much of me, that if he saw me drowning, he'd bring me a glass of water.

DUGAN: You know why you were brought here?

EEL: Sure, so's you could railroad me again.

INSPECTOR: Nonsense, Dugan has nothing against you personally.

EEL: Oh yes he has; when he was new on the force, I beat him up good. He was only a harness cop then, and one night he thought he made me coppin' a super from a lush, which you know ain't my graft. He started to fan me with a sap, so I just clubbed my smoke wagon, and before I got through with him, I made him a pick-up for the ambulance, and he ain't never forgot it.

INSPECTOR: What do you know about this Worthington robbery? (EEL looks around suspiciously.) Before you answer, Billy, I warn you to be careful, everything you say will be used against you.

EEL: Yes, and everything I don't say will be used, too. I know the system.

DUGAN: (Crossing R. to EEL. REPORTERS follow.) Well, what have you got to say?

EEL: (Taking time, looks around.) You don't think I'm goin' to address this Mass Meeting here. (BROOKY looks L. to see if there is anyone else there.)

INSPECTOR: You're not afraid to talk in front of a couple of newspaper reporters, are you?

EEL: (Grinning at INSPECTOR to gain time.) Roosevelt gets a dollar a word, where do I come in? (Resignedly.) All right, flag the pencil pushers and I'll gab my nob. (DUGAN turns L. to tell the REPORTERS to go. BROOKY says he don't understand. PERKINS pulls him off door C., remonstrating, going R.) (The INSPECTOR signs to DUGAN that they will now grill the EEL.)

INSPECTOR: This lady I suppose you know.

EEL: (Looks at MRS. WORTHINGTON.) I never lamped her before in my life.

DUGAN: That is Mrs. Worthington, the lady you robbed.

EEL: (Banteringly to MRS. WORTHINGTON to gain time.) Is it? How do you do, pleased to meet you. Gee! but you must be an awful mark to be robbed. (INSPECTOR raps on desk.) What was it I stole from you, Mrs. Worthington?

DUGAN: Nix on that bull. You know what you stole.

EEL: Yes, and I suppose you know what I stole before I stole it.

DUGAN: With dips like you, I always look far ahead.

EEL: Get out! you couldn't look far enough ahead to see the ashes on your cigar. Why, if it wasn't for your stool pigeons--

DUGAN: That's enough out of you.

EEL: Oh, go chase yourself. (DUGAN smashes at EEL, who ducks around back of him.)

INSPECTOR: Dugan!!! (When Dugan locates the EEL, he goes after him again. MRS. WORTHINGTON screams.)

INSPECTOR: None of that, Dugan! Remember, he had no marks on him when you brought him in. (DUGAN crosses L. in front of EEL and looks off door L. in subdued rage.) A little more civility out of you, Bradley.

EEL: All right, Inspector. (To MRS. W.) I beg your pardon, lady.

INSPECTOR: You have been brought here as a suspect in a five thousand dollar jewelry theft which happened at the home of Mrs. Worthington last night. (EEL makes no move.) Circumstances point strongly in your direction. Your former sweetheart, Goldie Marshall, was serving as maid to Mrs. Worthington at the time of the robbery.

EEL: And you think I planted her there as a stall.

DUGAN: Goldie spilled that much, and we didn't, have to third degree her.

EEL: So Goldie declared me in on this?

INSPECTOR: She couldn't help it, we knew it was a two-man's job.

EEL: She snitched me into a frame-up.

DUGAN: Same as she did two years ago.

EEL: Why say, Inspector, I ain't seen Goldie since I was sprung from the Pen.

DUGAN: Is that so? I got it straight that the first place you mozied to was Goldie's flat on East Broadway. You were trailed.

EEL: Sure I was, by one of you pathfinders at the Central Office. Oh, I've played tag with you before; Dugan, whatever you say, is.

INSPECTOR: Then you admit--

EEL: I don't admit nothin'.

INSPECTOR: Be careful what you say. Have you retained counsel?

EEL: A mouthpiece! What for?

INSPECTOR: You've got to be represented. Have you any money?

EEL: Sure! I left the hotel of Zebra clothed with a pocket full of smiles and a wad of joy. (INSPECTOR whispers for O'MARA to bring up GOLDIE. O'MARA exits door L.)

INSPECTOR: Well, the state will furnish you with an attorney.

EEL: What, one of them record shysters? Eighty years old and never won a case. No, thanks, Inspector. I'll plead my own case; then I got at least a chance to beat this rap.

DUGAN: You'd have a swell time pleading your own case.

EEL: Yes, and believe me I'll spring a sensation when I open up. I'll show up some of this rotten graft. I'll bust "The System " to smithereens. Dugan, I won't be railroaded--(EEL crosses in rage L. to Dugan.)

INSPECTOR: Bradley! hold your tongue, you've said enough.

EEL: I ain't said half what I'm going to say--

INSPECTOR: (Fiercely.) Not another word out of you. Do you understand?

EEL: (Coming down.) All right, Inspector. I don't want to get anybody that's right, in bad, but I've got something up my sleeve. (DUGAN laughs and goes up stage.) (GOLDIE enters door L. brought in by O'MARA. She is startled at seeing EEL, then pleadingly:)

GOLDIE: Billy! (EEL turns and is about to go to GOLDIE but stops.)

EEL: You snitched again! You snitched again! (Running L. to GOLDIE with arms up as though to hit her with hand-cuffs. GOLDIE snatches his upraised arms.)

GOLDIE: Oh no, Billy! True as God I didn't!

DUGAN: (Aside to INSPECTOR.) Let's leave them alone, they'll talk. (MRS. WORTHINGTON, INSPECTOR, DUGAN and O'MARA exit door R.)

GOLDIE: (Still holding EEL'S arms.) Why, I'd rather die than snitch.

EEL: (Jerking away and going R.) How about two years ago?

GOLDIE: I didn't even then when you left me dying. They framed you while I was in the hospital.

EEL: Who?

GOLDIE: Dugan and his--

EEL: Sh!!! Oh if I could only believe you, kid.

GOLDIE: Look at me, Billy. Do you think I'd snitch?

EEL: (Looks at her, then pushes her head roughly back.) No, I can't believe you did it, kid. (EEL takes GOLDIE in his arms.)

GOLDIE: (Sobbingly.) I'm so glad to see you again.

EEL: Me, too, kid. Gee, your head feels as natural on my shoulder as a piece of pie on a prize-fighter's knife. (EEL takes GOLDIE from his shoulder and says inquiringly.) But what are you doing here?

GOLDIE: (Drying her tears.) Bein' held on suspicion, but they can't get met I'm protected. Dugan's got to--

EEL: Nix on the crackin', don't shoot your trap, they're leavin' us together for a stall. Talk about something else. (EEL turns R. and GOLDIE grabs his hand.) Do you still love me?

GOLDIE: Always.

EEL: Will you marry me?

GOLDIE: If you want me to.

EEL: You know I do. (Looks around suspiciously.) Say, if I beat this rap (DUGAN comes, on door R., and stands at upper end of desk), let's get spliced and go out West, turn over a new leaf, and begin life all over again, far away from the subway world where the sun of happiness is always clouded and the ace of joy is coppered. What do you say?

GOLDIE: Gee! them's the kindest words you've ever said to me. (Then lightly.) And I'll march down the aisle with you, with my hair in a braid.

EEL: Great!! Gee, I wonder if we could make our get-away now. (Both start for door C., but DUGAN, who has come down behind them, stops them.)

DUGAN: How do you do! Would you like to take a little trip out in the air with me?

GOLDIE: Say, I'd rather be home with the headache, than at the Movies with a guy like you. (Crosses L.) (INSPECTOR enters door R. going behind desk.)

INSPECTOR: Well, have you got anything to say to me before I lock you up for the night?

EEL: Nothin', except that it's a frame-up, and we defy you to go through with it.

INSPECTOR: Take 'em down.

DUGAN: (Above door L.) Come on. (EEL starts for door L.)

GOLDIE: Good-night, Inspector.

INSPECTOR: Good-night.

EEL: (Turning at door L.) Same from me, Inspector.

INSPECTOR: Good-night, Bradley. (DUGAN shoves the EEL roughly off. GOLDIE circles around and switches in front of DUGAN.) By the way, Goldie, what's the number of your flat on East Broadway?

GOLDIE: (Hesitatingly at door L.) 327, Inspector.

INSPECTOR: Thanks.

GOLDIE: (Impudently.) You're welcome. (Exit door L. followed by DUGAN.) (O'MARA locks door after them.)

INSPECTOR: (Calling O'MARA.) O'Mara!

O'MARA: (At door L.) Yes, sir.

INSPECTOR: I want a wire installed at 327 East Broadway.

O'MARA: (In front of desk.) Goldie's flat?

INSPECTOR: Yes. I'm leaving it to you to see that the orders are carried out to the letter.

O'MARA: Yes, sir, to-morrow.

INSPECTOR: To-night, at once. I'm going to turn them loose. You understand?

O'MARA: (Looks puzzled, then face brightens.) I understand.

DARK CHANGE

SCENE II

STREET SCENE, IN EAST BROADWAY

Showing flat house with stoop. Time: The same evening. A small boy enters L. with bottle of milk, goes up steps door C., rings bell, clicker sounds, and he exits door C. MAGGIE enters door C. She is an East side janitress. She has a tin pail on her arm around which is wrapped newspaper. She walks off L. PERKINS and BROOKY are heard off R.)

PERKINS: (Entering R. briskly.) Come on, Brooky, don't be so slow.

BROOKY: (Straggling in after PERKINS.) I say, old chap, this sort of work is most laborious. This flitting from one tram to another, and being jostled and ordered to "step lively" by vulgar guards, and running, yes actually running. It's not only bad taste, old man, but positively undignified. (Dusting shoes with handkerchief, L., PERKINS is up in vestibule of door C.)

PERKINS: If you want to supply your paper with live news, you've got to keep hustling.

BROOKY: Very true, but it seems such a waste of energy.

PERKINS: (Coming down to BROOKY.) No energy is wasted that is productive of flaring headlines. Now take that note pad I gave you, and get your pencil busy with a description of this neighborhood. (Goes R. making notes.)

BROOKY: (Taking paper and pencil from pockets after a search for them.) This is more like being a Scotland Yarder than a reporter.

PERKINS: A Scotland Yarder!

BROOKY: I should say detective.

PERKINS: (Coming L.) Let me tell you something, Brooky. The reporters and newspapers unravel more cases than the police.

BROOKY: I dare say you do. You're so damned inquisitive.

PERKINS: It isn't inquisitiveness, my boy, it's just being on the level with the public.

BROOKY: (Laughing.) You know, some great man said, "The public be damned."

PERKINS: He wasn't a great man, he was an ignorant man. The public will stand for just so much, then look out; let your mind wander back to the history of the French Revolution. An infuriated public is the most ferocious blood-lapping animal in the earth's jungle.

BROOKY: Perky, I adore your descriptive talents.

PERKINS: (Going up into vestibule and ringing bell.) You make me sick.

BROOKY: But surely you're not going to enter that apartment house unannounced?

PERKINS: No, I'll tell them a couple of reporters want some news, then you'll hear language no paper can print.

BROOKY: Why, are they all foreigners?

PERKINS: Say, Brooky, you're a perfect ass.

BROOKY: No, my dear fellow, none of us are perfect.

PERKINS: (Coming down out of vestibule to BROOKY.) Now listen, I told you that I had inside information that the EEL and GOLDIE were to be released, that's why I hustled you over here. I could have come alone, but I let you in on a big scoop for your paper.

BROOKY: Righto, old chap, righto; but what bothers me is, what's it all about?

PERKINS: It's about time you got next to yourself.

BROOKY: Another impossible metaphor, my dear fellow; how can one get next to one's self without being twins?

PERKINS: Brooky, Englishmen as a rule are thick, but you are a density of thickness that is impenetrable.

BROOKY: Yes, I know I am a rare sort.

PERKINS: Now, we haven't time to argue a lot of piffle. The girl isn't in yet, there's no answer to my ring, so let's stroll around and come back later. (Exit R.)

BROOKY: (Not seeing that PERKINS has gone.) Righto! old man, we'll stroll, for if there's anything that I like, its having a nice little--(Seeing that PERKINS is gone.) Perkins! you said stroll. Don't run, don't run, it's so damned undignified. (Exit R.) (Enter L., O'MARA dressed in citizen's clothes. He looks at number on house then motions off for TOM to come on. TOM comes on L., they go up into vestibule and look for names on bells. Enter Officer FLYNN, stealthily.)

FLYNN: Come on, now, you don't live there, I've had my eye on you for five minutes.

O'MARA: (Coming down from vestibule to FLYNN.) Well, keep your eye on something else, if you know what's good for you. (Takes badge out of pocket.)

FLYNN: (Surprised.) Central Officer! (Whistles and walks off R.)

O'MARA: (Returning to vestibule.) Ring any bell?

TOM: No, her flat's on the second floor, so I'll ring up the top flat. (TOM rings the bell and sound of electric door opener is heard, they both exit door C.) (FLYNN strolls back on from R. ad MAGGIE enters from L.)

FLYNN: Hello, Maggie! been out to get the evening paper? There is not much in it.

MAGGIE: There's enough in it to quench me thirst after a hard day's work.

FLYNN: I see you've got the paper wrapped around something good.

MAGGIE: I have that, and it's meself instead of the paper'll be wrapped around it in a minute. (Light goes up in window above.)

FLYNN: I see you've got a new tenant. Is she hard on you?

MAGGIE: Divel-a-bit! She's a nice respectable dacent girl, and aisy to get along with. I never seen her with no men folks. Maybe she's a widdy, as I'd like to be.

FLYNN: A widow? What's the matter with your old man?

MAGGIE: He ain't worth powder enough to blow up a cock-roach.

FLYNN: Is he working?

MAGGIE: He ain't done a tap since the civil war.

FLYNN: That's quite a vacation.

MAGGIE: Vacation? It's a life sentence of laziness.