Act 3 — Scene I

It is an afternoon some days later. There is a small table near the bar with a water carafe and a glass, a hand bell and papers on it. Chairs are arranged round it in a circle as if for a meeting. Otherwise the scene is unchanged.

Mr. Lingley is pacing up and down the room in an agitated manner, watch in hand.

Lingley. Four thirty⁠—four thirty one! Tut, tut, tut! (Goes to table.) Late, late. Now let’s see⁠—(Counting the chairs.) Mrs. Cliveden-Banks⁠—Mr. Duke⁠—two⁠—four⁠—six⁠—(Touching armchair at head and fingering water bottle.) Myself here⁠—yes that’s right. (The syren is heard. Takes out watch again.) Four thirty one and a half⁠—four thirty two. Oh, tut, tut, tut! (Tom walks in from the deck. Lingley stops in his walk on seeing him.) Good gracious, fancy you being the first!

Tom. First for what?

Lingley. The meeting, sir!

Tom. Oh, I’d forgotten about your rotten old meeting.

Lingley. Where are the others?

Tom. On deck. It may interest you to know we’ve just sighted land. (Sits above table.)

Lingley. Land, Mr. Prior? Land! (Delighted.)

Tom. Yes. We’ve just sighted hell.

Lingley. Oh.

Tom. It looks quite a jolly little spot from here. The padre’s arranging a sweepstake on the exact time it will take us to get in. He’s suddenly developed a sense of humour.

Lingley. Sense of humour and sweepstakes when we’re all⁠—all⁠—! What’s the use of a sense of humour to a dead man? (Pacing to and fro up and down.)

Tom. I dunno! I’ve never asked one.

Lingley. Oh, why don’t they come?

Tom. You’re getting the wind up a bit, aren’t you? Oh, I don’t blame you, Lingley of Lingley Limited, for I shouldn’t be surprised if over there a nice private little gridiron isn’t being warmed up for your personal reception. (Goes to table and sits down.)

Lingley. Will you be quiet, you foolish boy!

(Scrubby enters left.)

Scrubby (indicating the table). Everything correct, sir?

Lingley. Eh?

Scrubby. Enough chairs, sir?

Lingley. Oh! yes, very nice indeed, very nice, Mr. Scrubby. Er⁠—here is half-a-crown for your trouble. Thank you.

Scrubby. Thank you, sir.

Lingley. What for? Half-a-crown is no use to me now. Wait! Please tell the others⁠—the others⁠—my shipmates⁠—that they’re late for the meeting.

Scrubby (as he goes). Certainly, sir.

Lingley. Thank you, Mr. Scrubby, thank you.

Tom. What’s the object of this meeting, anyway?

Lingley. Can’t you see?

Tom. Yes. That’s why I asked.

Lingley. We’re approaching our destination, and I want to make this one last effort. I feel we should talk the matter over in a rational spirit⁠—and as a business man I’ve called this meeting.

Tom. You would. And, as has probably been your custom, you think that a committee report and minutes, and balance sheets and all that bunkum may impress the examiner as they do shareholders and other examiners. Of course you’ll be chairman?

Lingley. Naturally. I seem to be the only one qualified.

Tom. You admit it.

Lingley. By right of experience and proved ability⁠—Prior, when I was a boy⁠—

Tom. Were you ever a boy? Poor parents!

Lingley. When I was seventeen I could only manage one egg for breakfast.

Tom. I can never manage any breakfast myself.

Lingley. Afford one egg, I mean. At six thirty a.m. I used to walk to my work.

Tom. On the egg?

Lingley. And after business I’d walk home again. That was the beginning of Lingley Limited. When I was seventeen I made my motto “Try to rely on yourself.” At thirty-seven I made it “Rely on yourself.”

Tom. So you fired me.

Lingley. At forty-seven I made it “Rely on yourself absolutely”; because if you fail all your friends will only say “It serves you right.”

Tom. Had you any friends at forty-seven?

Lingley. You’re incorrigible! And I thought you were concerned in this⁠—this dilemma.

Tom. I am.

(Mrs. Cliveden-Banks enters through the centre door. She is in the very deepest mourning.)

Mrs. C-Banks. I must apologise for being late! I’ve been playing sweepstake.

Lingley. Mrs. Cliveden-Banks! Why this dress?

Mrs. C-Banks. Our present circumstances!

(Tom sits⁠—his attitude toward the subsequent proceedings is one of contempt.)

Lingley. Will you sit here?

Mrs. C-Banks. It’s nice to be able to, isn’t it? (Sits in the first chair left of table.) And the object of this meeting, Mr. Lingley is⁠—er⁠—?

Lingley. Well⁠—er⁠—is this company alive or dead?

Tom. And the next question on the agenda?

Lingley (a pause. Sits). What is going to happen to us? Mr. Prior⁠—as a prospective shareholder⁠—I ask you what you think?

Tom. Lingley⁠—do you know anything about Elizabethan furniture?

Lingley. Nothing whatever.

Tom. Neither do I. That’s why I never talk about it.

Lingley. But it is the right thing to do isn’t it?

Tom. To solemnly sit down and discuss if we’ve immortal souls or if we haven’t? And if we have, to pool ’em. (Sarcastically.) Undoubtedly. (Rises.) “We must combine”⁠—the most hopeful refuge for an embarrassed business man like you.

Lingley. Exactly. We must all face this examiner together.

(Rev. W. Duke enters. He is quite different and most cheerful.)

Duke. Hello, Tom! Hello, Lingley! (To Mrs. Cliveden-Banks): Hello, Banky!

Mrs. C-Banks. Banky!

Duke. Yes. (He shakes her shoulders.) Banky, Banky! We’re dead now so my job’s over and I can be quite natural; do what I like and say what I like, Banky. (Over Lingley’s right shoulder.) Prior, have you heard this one⁠—I’ve been dying to spring it for ages⁠—“There was a young girl of Hong-Kong.”

Mrs. C-Banks (convulsed with laughter). Oh, I know that one.

Lingley. Sir! You ought to be ashamed of yourself. We are about to hold a Board Meeting.

Duke. Sorry. I overheard one of my ex-choir boys reciting that in the Vestry. I remember his voice was breaking at the time. Damn badly. (Sits below Tom.)

Lingley. Supposing your Bishop heard you say “damn.”

Duke. Impossible, unless he’s listening in.

Lingley. You’ve evidently become unbalanced.

Mrs. Midget (entering centre). Is this the meeting ’ouse?

Lingley. Yes, Mrs. Midget. Sit here will you? Very good of you to come. I hope you⁠—your family are well and⁠—

Mrs. Midget (sits above table right of Lingley). What the ’ell are you talking about?

Mrs. C-Banks. Please do not mention hell, Mrs. Midget, it’s a rather ticklish subject at the moment.

Lingley. Now, are we all here?

Tom. We’re all here.

Mrs. Midget. The young couple aren’t ’ere.

Lingley. They never say anything, anyway. Shall we begin?

Mrs. C-Banks. Begin.

Lingley. Very well, then. (Rises.) Ahem! (Rings bell on table.)

Tom. They’re off!

Lingley. Ladies and gentlemen⁠—

Mrs. Midget. ’Ear, ’Ear!

Mrs. C-Banks. Be quiet!

Mrs. Midget. I was only thanking ’im for the compliment.

Lingley. Ladies and gentlemen⁠—“de mortuis nil nisi bonum.”

Tom. Oh, get on with it!

Lingley. I intend to. Ladies and gentlemen⁠—I am a business man.

Duke. Quite.

Lingley. I have never done anything in my life without a reason.

Duke. Quite.

Lingley. I would like firstly, therefore, to explain that my reason for calling this meeting, is, if I may put it in this manner, to draw up a clean balance sheet.

Duke. Quite.

Lingley. Now, secondly⁠—if I may say so⁠—

Tom. You may say anything you like, old boy, only for goodness sake say it.

Lingley. Sir! I⁠—

Mrs. C-Banks. Order, please. Order.

Tom. I’ll have the same, with a splash.

Lingley. Oh, please don’t all keep interrupting.

Mrs. C-Banks. Well, they always say “order” at meetings⁠—

Duke. Quite!

Lingley. Where was I?

Duke. Drawing up a balance sheet.

Tom. “Laughter.”

Lingley. And trying to explain my reason for doing so.

Duke. Quite.

Tom. Quite what?

Lingley. My reasons⁠—

Tom. Have you any?

Lingley. (Sits down in disgust.) I shall say no more.

Tom. Good.

Mrs. Midget. Oh, sir, don’t rob the gentleman of his amusement! ’E may not ’ave much more opportunity.

Lingley. I only thought in view of the shortness of time at our command, and the nature of the harbour we are rapidly approaching,⁠—I shall therefore call on Mr. Duke for a few words. He should, professionally, know more of the matter than we do. Ahem! The Rev. W. Duke, M.C.

Duke (without rising). All I can say is⁠—if we are all dead then let us hope we have done our jobs to the best of our ability.

Lingley. I’ve never been late for an appointment in my life.

Duke. And now that we’re nearing this⁠—this dread examiner, we think something should be done. And we’ve put off really thinking what to do till the last moment. Naturally we would, we’re all English.

Mrs. C-Banks. Rule Britannia!

Duke. You ask for my professional advice! I have none to give. The Steward himself has none to give.

Mrs. Midget. You might pray for us, sir.

Duke. I would if I thought my prayer would be worth anything. But now I don’t understand. To pray for something one doesn’t understand is to be an idolater.

Mrs. Midget. Oh, we mustn’t be one of those.

Duke. It’s the first time in my⁠—it’s the first time I’ve never known what to do. It’s a strange business, this being dead. (The drum is heard again. Ann and Henry appear in the centre. A pause and then the Rev. Duke notices the couple.) Oh, come in. (Ann and Henry come in and stand away from the others.) By the way, I suppose we’re all agreed on that point?

Lingley. What point?

Tom. Ask these two.

Lingley. What point?

Duke. Are we all dead or are we not?

Lingley. That’s what I called this meeting to decide. (To Ann and Henry.) You two, won’t you sit down? (No reply, they simply huddle closer together, and stand aloof left.) No? No. Very well, then. The motion in front of us is I think perfectly plain to all. “Are we⁠—” Who will speak first?

Mrs. C-Banks. I will. For I think it’s a most impertinent question to be asked. If I am dead, why can’t I be dead in private? Personally, I believe I am dead. My corsets have never fitted so comfortably anyway.

Lingley. Mr. Prior?

Tom. I know. And I don’t care a damn one way or the other.

Mrs. C-Banks. The man’s a plebiscite.

Lingley. Mr. Duke?

Duke. Agreed. Mr. Lingley?

Lingley (pause). I agree. Mrs. Midget?

Mrs. Midget. Ladies and gents, all I want to know is this, and I really don’t know what’s goin’ on. But if it ’as ’appened⁠—it would greatly please me to know that I’ve been done proper.

Lingley. I beg your pardon.

Mrs. Midget. You know, the street, the neighbours, the sherry wine and cake⁠—and flowers.

Lingley. This is beside the point⁠—do you think you’re dead or do you not?

Mrs. Midget. Oh, I leave it entirely to you, sir.

Lingley. I take it in favour of the motion. And now you two young people?

Tom. They know. They’ve always known.

Lingley. Please, please, let them answer for themselves. Well? Well, what do you say?

Henry. We have nothing to say.

Lingley. I suppose we must disregard your evidence. As far as the rest of us are concerned, I think there is nothing more to be done than to enter the verdict that this board (commences to write) “certifies itself to be dead.” And the next thing for me to decide⁠—is the most effective way⁠—in all our interests⁠—to meet and talk with this examiner.

Tom. Do you mean we want to get out of it if we can?

Lingley. If we can. Well⁠—er⁠—if we can’t⁠—we want to get out of it as lightly as we can.

Mrs. C-Banks. Go on.

Lingley. And we’re under a great disadvantage. You see we do not know what sort of a person this examiner is, who is suddenly to pounce upon us. He is bound to be a hard, stern business man. In which case, I suggest I am one best fitted to deal with him.

Tom. Hear, hear!

Duke. Supposing he isn’t anything like that? Supposing he is something even you can’t understand? Supposing he is really the examiner? Don’t you think we all ought to speak for ourselves?⁠—if we can.

Lingley. It’s if we can’t I’m thinking of.

Duke. I wish we knew. I certainly wish we knew.

(Scrubby enters from behind bar.)

Mrs. C-Banks. Why not ask that steward person about him? They must have met before.

Tom. Not a bad idea at all, Mrs. Cliveden-Banks.

Lingley. The steward! Exactly, will someone go and fetch him?

Scrubby. You want me, sir?

Lingley. What the⁠—!

Scrubby. I have been here all the time.

Lingley. But, we⁠—

Scrubby. You wanted to ask me about the examiner, sir.

Lingley. Yes, if you would be so good.

Scrubby. What did you want to know exactly, sir?

Lingley. Well, he can’t be tipped, that of course is obvious⁠—but between ourselves⁠—what sort of a person is he?

Scrubby. I can’t say. I don’t know. It all depends.

Lingley. Depends on what?

Scrubby. Yourselves, sir. I have seen some men and women before him cry for⁠—but no, I can’t say.

Lingley. Tell us just this, Mr. Scrubby, what do you think we really ought to do⁠—how exactly should we approach him?

Scrubby. I have been asked that question nearly five thousand times, sir; I have always answered that it is better to leave the approaching to him. (Starts to go out centre.)

Duke. Scrubby, have I any chance?

Scrubby (standing in door silhouetted against the golden light outside). You all have chances, sir.

Duke. What’s he like?

Scrubby. He’s the wind and the skies and the earth, sir. He knows the furthest eddy of the high tide up the remotest cove. He knows the simpleness of beauty and the evilest thoughts of the human mind. He’ll know all your evil thoughts.

Duke (quickly). God!

Scrubby. Yes, sir, he will. (Looks out on to the deck.) Would you excuse me now, please. I can tell no more; and a seagull has just fallen on to the deck. I’m afraid it may have broken its wing. If so I must try and mend it.

Ann. Poor thing!

Scrubby. Yes, madam, it’s very sad the way the birds die in these strange waters. (He walks off along the deck.)

Duke. Just like the first day at school again.

Tom. Now do you want to deal with him⁠—collectively? Or will you just make yourself responsible for your own sins?

Lingley. Oh, come, come, come! We mustn’t all get jumpy. I still think we ought to be prepared though my own conscience is perfectly clear.

Mrs. C-Banks. Then you’d better worry about ours, dear Mr. Lingley. Come tabulate us, as it were.

Lingley. Excellent. Then I can put all the cases before this⁠—this examiner briefly and to the point.

Mrs. C-Banks. It should save us a great amount of trouble.

Lingley. So, if you will all just give me a few details about yourselves⁠—and any special little reference you might like me to bring forward, Mrs. Cliveden-Banks, let me start with you. What shall I say about you to this⁠—er⁠—examiner?

Mrs. C-Banks. I should just say I am⁠—or was⁠—Mrs. Cliveden-Banks⁠—and leave it at that.

Lingley. Um! Oh, very well; you, Mrs. Midget?

Mrs. Midget. Oh, I dun’no.

Lingley. Oh, dear, dear, dear! Is that really all?

Mrs. Midget. Yes, please, sir.

Lingley. All right⁠—not at all satisfactory but I suppose all right⁠—in my hands. I can answer for myself of course. You, Mr. Prior?

Tom. Oh, say, I’m an old drunk. Or rather a young one.

Lingley. That won’t help you very much.

Tom. How do you know?

Lingley. But you must have had some redeeming qualities that will help you? For instance, were you good to your mother or⁠—did you go to Oxford?

Tom. Put down the truth⁠—he will know it anyway.

Lingley. Really, you’re none of you being very helpful. (Writes.) A drunk⁠—er⁠—a Mrs. Cliveden-Banks⁠—er⁠—and an, I dunno.

Mrs. C-Banks. I should prefer to precede the drunk.

Lingley. Very well. (To Henry.) Now, sir, how can you assist me?

Henry. I can’t.

Lingley. But⁠—you then, madam?

Ann. He speaks for both of us.

Henry. We have nothing to say.

Lingley. It is really most discourteous of you! Mr. Duke, I can rely on you at any rate.

Duke. You can rely on me for one piece of information.

Lingley. Thank you very much.

Duke. I now entirely agree with Mr. Prior for calling you a pompous old idiot!

Tom. Cheers.

Lingley. What?⁠—just because I’m trying to do my duty!

Duke. Your duty! Your rubbish! You’re doing what you are because you’re in a blue funk! And I don’t blame you. I’m in a blue funk, too! But not so much as to make an utter ass of myself by trying to get out of this with balance sheets and board meetings! You want to try and impress this examiner with your cleverness, your business importance, your supposed interest in your fellow creatures. You’re hoping to save your own skin that way. And I think it’s pretty rotten!

Lingley. Indeed. Destructive criticism is very simple. Then perhaps you can advise me.

Duke. I can advise nothing.

Lingley. ’Um! That’s very useful.

Mrs. Midget. Oh, sir, not just one word of ’elp?

Duke. That is different. If I can help I will. But you mustn’t take anything I say in the nature of advice. The blind leading the blind, you know. I can only tell you what I am going to do myself, and I may be wrong.

Tom. What are you going to do, Duke? (Staccato.)

Duke. I have been trying to look into myself silently, trying to examine my past thoughtfully and humbly⁠—to seek out all the faults and not try to excuse them. But to know all that I am responsible for; and when I see my life, lying before me like a blurred map, I am going to pray to be able to make one more prayer. But for myself; I am not fit to pray for others. If any of you care to do likewise please do so if it will comfort you. Look back.

Mrs. C-Banks. I could look back, of course, but I don’t intend to. Remember Mrs. Lot.

Mrs. Midget. Thank you, sir.

Duke. No, no, now that’s just what I didn’t want you to do. You see, Mrs. Midget⁠—try to understand⁠—we’re just shipmates, you and I⁠—trying to help one another. I’m not a captain any longer, I cannot pray for others. Perhaps the realisation of that is the beginning of my punishment. I’ve lost my job.

Lingley. I don’t suppose it was worth much anyway.

Duke. It was the most glorious job in the world. I suppose a man never really knows he’s incompetent until he’s sacked, and I can’t, I can’t understand and I ought to. It’s my job to; and it’s beastly hard not to be able to. It’s heart-breaking⁠—it’s⁠—(to Prior)⁠—Give me a cigarette.

(The syren is heard again. Henry moves away from Ann.)

Lingley. Well, let’s get down to hard facts⁠—I suggest.

Duke. Too late. Didn’t you hear?

Lingley. What?

Ann. I heard.

Tom. What?

Duke. The syren.

Tom (after a pause suddenly hysterical). I didn’t hear anything⁠—I didn’t hear anything.

(Duke and Tom rise. Tom knocks chair over.)

Duke. Now, now, Prior.

Tom. I didn’t, I didn’t! (Another pause.) But I can feel something though, can’t you?

Duke. No.

Tom. The boat’s stopped.

Duke. Exactly. We’re in.

(Another pause. The syren is repeated.)

Tom. No, no! I won’t face it! I daren’t! It’s all been bluff on my part! Let me get away! Let me get⁠—!

Duke (rising with hand on Prior). Prior, my boy!

Tom. I can’t face it. I want to get away! Make the boat go on!

Ann. Henry! (She gets closer to him.)

Tom. Let me get away. (Struggling to get away.)

Duke. We can none of us get away. We’ve stopped for good now. This is the judgment.

Tom (pulling himself together). No, it can’t be. Here in the smoke-room of a liner?

Duke. Why shouldn’t it be here in the smoke-room of a liner? Have any of us really ever troubled very much to think where-and-how-and-when it might be?

Ann (quietly). Henry. They won’t separate us⁠—they can’t.

(Henry merely holds her closer⁠—as if in defiance.)

Duke. We’re for it now all right.

(Duke sits right of table with his face buried in his hands.)

Tom. We must stick together. Duke, man, you must pray even if the words are meaningless. Don’t desert duty at the last moment. We’re in the night and I want a prayer. I want a prayer from a man, I don’t care if he’s a clergyman or not.

Mrs. Midget (going to Duke). You ought to pray, your reverence.

Tom. Even if you can’t understand what for⁠—you understand us.

Duke. You really think I ought to, Mrs. Midget?

Mrs. Midget (bending over him). Yes, sir, pardon the liberty. There’s no ’arm in ’abits⁠—if they’re good ’abits; and prayer is a good ’abit.

Duke (without rising⁠—but slowly facing front and with utter simplicity and sincerity). Forgive me then, for I don’t know⁠—“Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, look upon a little child⁠—children⁠—pardon our simplicity, suffer us to come to Thee. God bless father and mother, Harriet (she was my nurse), all kind friends, make me a good boy. Amen.” That was the first prayer I ever learnt, so it’s probably the finest. Say it to yourselves if you want to; and remember⁠—Harriet⁠—she was a worthy soul.

Ann (after a long pause). Henry, let’s hide. (She takes his hand and they drift off together, left.)

Mrs. Midget. I feel better.

(Scrubby enters from the left, giving a glance back as he does so.)

Scrubby (brightly⁠—and business-like). We’re in, ladies and gentlemen, we’re in.

Duke. Yes, yes, we know.

Scrubby. The examiner is just coming on board. His cutter’s alongside. He’ll be with you in a second. (He goes out on to the deck.)

Duke. We can do nothing now.

Mrs. C-Banks (in a whisper). Mr. Lingley⁠—Mr. Lingley! (She and Lingley have gone to wall seat at back⁠—where they sit.)

Lingley. Well?

Mrs. C-Banks. Well⁠—hadn’t we better all stand up? (All rise.)

Lingley. Eh? Oh, yes, of course, it would be more polite.

Duke. Politeness!

Scrubby (appearing and announcing). The Examiner!

Tom (quickly and quietly appealingly). Duke!

Duke. Quiet.

(The Rev. Frank Thomson is heard shouting off, Right.)

Thomson. Hello, hello, hello there I say! Where is everyone? Where are you, Duke? (He appears in the centre. An elderly and massive clergyman, rotund, rubicund and jovial. He is dressed in white drill and a topee. But he wears a clergyman’s collar and black bib.) Ah, there you are! Duke, my old boy, how are you?

Duke. Good⁠—! My⁠—! Well⁠—! Well I’m dashed if it isn’t old “grease spot.” (Crossing and shaking hands.)

Thomson. It is, sir, and greasier than ever. Phew! This climate! Well, I am glad to see you after all this time. How are you, Duke? Have a good passage? You’re looking fit. (Taking off topee and wiping forehead.)

Duke. I’m not feeling it.

Thomson. I only heard this morning your boat was due in this afternoon, I’d seen your name on the passenger list of course⁠—so I hurried down especially to meet you, I’d been up country. (Sits above table.)

Duke. Thank you.

Thomson. Well, how goes everything. I’m bursting for news! How’s Fergusson⁠—still in the same old place?

Duke. No, they’ve made him a bishop now.

Thomson. Good lor’, they would. Well I hope he likes it. And what’s become of Maltby; and that little fellow with the red hair and spectacles? I never could remember his name. (Lights a cigarette.) And do you still go for your blow-out at Simpson’s every pay day, you young rascal? Tell me, what’s the meat like there now?

Duke (greatly agitated and in no mood for Thomson’s frivolity). Thomson, I’m delighted to see you again, of course, and I’m dying to tell you everything afterwards⁠—if I can⁠—but can’t you realise⁠—at this moment⁠—how terribly worried I am?

Thomson. Worried⁠—worried about what?

Duke. This⁠—this person.

Thomson. What person?

Duke. This person⁠—or whoever it is⁠—who’s just coming to examine us.

Thomson. The examiner! Oh, I shouldn’t worry about him!

Duke. What⁠—do⁠—you⁠—mean?

Thomson. I’m the examiner!

(General movement.)

Duke. You⁠—you are!

Thomson. Well, I’m one of ’em anyway. We’ve got dozens on the job. And they will shove all the duds on to it. My dear boy, our profession is not what it used to be. Terribly overcrowded, too, believe me.

Duke. You’re⁠—my⁠—examiner?

Thomson. Yes⁠—you’re under my orders now. And I tell you, my boy, you’ll have to mind your p’s and q’s; and how you’ll have to slog at it! But I’ve fixed your “digs” up for you all right, they’re not up to much, but clean, in the same house as myself; the old woman’s quite a decent sort. And it’s near your work, right in the centre of the parish so you couldn’t do better, really.

Duke. Work?

Thomson. I find it quite handy myself.

Duke. “Parish⁠—slog at it.” Thomson, Thomson, you don’t mean I haven’t lost my job after all? Don’t torture me, tell me quickly.

Thomson. Of course you haven’t lost it. You haven’t started it yet. You’re just beginning it.

Duke. Not lost my job? Still got my job. Oh, thank you! Oh, thank God! I will work harder now every moment, I swear I will, Mr. Thomson. Harder than ever! Oh, do you all hear? My job I was so keen on⁠—it’s not been taken from me after all. My⁠—oh! (Sits right of table, left, and quietly cries)⁠—job.

Thomson (patting him on shoulder). There, there, boy, there, there! Whatever made you think it would be taken from you? (Duke sobs.) There, there, it’s quite all right.

Mrs. C-Banks (at back on the seat with Lingley). I’m very glad to see they know each other so well⁠—but what about us?

Lingley. This might be a suitable moment to approach him.

Mrs. C-Banks. Try.

Lingley. I will (importantly crossing to examiner who takes no notice). Sir⁠—ahem⁠—my name is Lingley⁠—of Ling⁠—

Thomson. Go away.

Lingley. I have advocated myself⁠—or rather my fellow passengers have advocated me⁠—their spokesman as it were⁠—

Thomson (still attending to Duke). Go away.

Lingley. And I thought this might be a good moment to approach a somewhat⁠—

Thomson (turning on him positively). Will you go away, sir?

Lingley. Certainly. (Retires.) I’ve no wish to stay where I’m not wanted. (Goes back to his seat.)

Mrs. C-Banks. How very rude!

Lingley. I don’t believe he’s the examiner at all.

Mrs. C-Banks. Of course, Mr. Duke will get off lightly. (Rises.) A friend at court, you see. Influence! Ah! It’s always the same. Shall I say something to him?

Lingley. Good lor’, madam, no.

Thomson (to Duke). Feeling better now?

Duke. I’m very sorry, sir. But it means such a lot to me. You understand.

Thomson. Perfectly. I had exactly the same feeling when it happened to me. But you’ve nothing to worry about except your work.

Duke. I’m full of energy.

Thomson. Then you can start your apprenticeship now and help me with this bunch. By the way, there aren’t many of you.

Duke. No, sir.

Thomson. Then it won’t take long and we can get on shore for dinner.

Lingley. Sir, if I find my trial’s being “scamped” I shall appeal.

Thomson (to Scrubby). Take that man away, will you?

Scrubby. Certainly, sir. This way, Mr. Lingley.

Lingley (as he goes out, left). It’s disgraceful.

Thomson. And the rest had better wait with him⁠—outside.

Scrubby. Very good, sir. Will you all come this way, please?

Mrs. C-Banks (making a large sweep towards Thomson). How do you do? (Seeing she is ignored she follows the others out.) Oh!

(Tom goes out, left, followed by Mrs. Midget.)

Thomson. That’s all. (Scrubby follows them off, left.) Now, we’ll get to work.

Duke. Yes, sir.

Thomson. Let’s see; who have we got on board? (Reads from his note-book.) Cliveden-Banks, Midget, Prior and the officious gent who spoke to me⁠—yourself.

Duke. There’s an awfully nice quiet young couple.

Thomson. Oh? I don’t remember them. They’re not on the passenger list. We’ll begin with the officious one. (Calls.) Scrubby! (Goes up centre and returns.) Where’s that fellow got to?

Scrubby (appearing). Here, sir.

Thomson. Oh. (Reading.) Show in Mr. Feltmann.

Scrubby (calling off left). Mr. Feltmann!

Duke. There’s no Feltmann on board, Thomson!

Thomson. Isn’t there?

Scrubby (calling off left louder). Mr. Feltmann!!

Duke. Not that I know of.

(There is a pause. Then Thomson rises, goes up to left opening and calls⁠—looking off as he does so.)

Thomson. Feltmann, come here.

(Then Lingley appears in the opening.)

Lingley. You were looking at me?

Thomson. Yes. Come in. Sit down. (Returns to seat.) There.

(Lingley comes slowly in and sits down.)

Lingley. Well?

Thomson. Well, sir?

Lingley. You’ve made a mistake. My name’s Lingley, of Lingley, Ltd.

Thomson. Your name’s Feltmann. At least that was the name of your parents.

Lingley. No, sir. My name’s Lingley. And I’m sorry to see you mixing up things to begin with. I’m a business man and mistakes annoy me. You see, my fellow passengers have practically left everything in my hands. Now if you’ll just put your cards on the table we⁠—

Thomson. Is your name Feltmann or is it not?

Lingley. It is not.

Thomson. Very well then, your case is over. Get up.

Lingley. Wait. My name is Feltmann.

(Lingley sits slowly.)

Thomson. Why did you say it wasn’t?

Lingley. Business.

Thomson. Rascality.

Lingley (rather truculent). What am I charged with anyway?

Thomson. Just being yourself.

Lingley. I am very proud of being myself. From small beginnings I have worked up to great things. I have never hesitated for a second but always kept to the straight path. I am an honest British merchant⁠—my bank balance will show you that⁠—and that I have a career behind me any self-made man might be proud of. I await my just reward.

Thomson. You shall get it, honest British merchant. As a matter of fact you’re not British at all, Feltmann. You were born in Leipzig. You commenced your career by breaking a playmate’s head against a granite curb because he had a painted toy horse. You wanted to get it.

Lingley. Well, I got it.

Thomson. Oh, I’ll grant you that! That’s how you’ve made that glorious straight path you boast about. By knocking down anyone who came across it or tried to turn you off it. Well, you’ll have to learn, that’s all.

Lingley. I’ve not been wicked⁠—people respect me.

Thomson. Do they? To your face, perhaps. Come. (Over to above table.) Feltmann, you’re a business man. (Sits.) I’m ready to admit that. Some men get found out during their lives. You’re only found out now. Come off you get.

(Henry and Ann appear at the centre door coming from left. They hesitate, looking in for a second, as if awaiting their turn then pass on right. Duke sees them.)

Lingley. I⁠—I⁠—

Thomson. There is no appeal. You will suffer as you made others suffer. (Pause.)

(Thomson’s manner is not hard and vindictive. He is kindly, tolerant and possibly even reluctant to dole out justice. But he is firm and just.)

Lingley (after a pause). Give me a second chance.

Thomson. Did you give anybody a second chance? No, you must learn, my son. (He turns and makes a note in his book.)

(Lingley looks defiantly for a moment at Thomson, whose back is turned, as if he’d like to strike him. This he attempts to do. But is suddenly stopped.)

Thomson (turning. Quietly). That’s all.

(Lingley slowly turns and goes out centre to left, utterly broken and dejected.)

Duke. Thomson!

Thomson. Don’t look so shocked. It must be done. Suffering sometimes works wonderful transformations. Let’s hope, boy, let’s hope. Scrubby!

Scrubby. Sir.

Thomson (to Scrubby). Just see he goes the right way.

Scrubby. Very good, sir.

(He follows Lingley.)

Duke (rises). I wish you’d see the young couple next. I know they must be suffering.

Thomson. What young couple is this?

Duke. I told you about them.

Thomson. Yes, but I’ve had no information from any other quarter. It’s funny.

Duke. They seem so devoted. You’ll have a pleasant job with them, I know.

Thomson. But who exactly are they?

Duke. Well, I used to call them, to myself, “the lovers.”

(Scrubby has appeared again in the centre.)

Thomson. Steward, do you know anything about a young couple on this boat?

Scrubby. Oh, those two, sir! You wouldn’t want to see them.

Duke. Not see them?

Thomson. Why shouldn’t I want to see them?

Scrubby. They’re “half-ways” sir.

Thomson. Half-ways. Oh, that explains it. No, it wouldn’t be much use my seeing them. Show in⁠—Mrs. Cliveden-Banks.

Scrubby. Yes, sir. (He goes out left.)

Duke. You’re not even going to see them?

Thomson. I can’t, old boy.

Duke (curiously). What is a “half-way,” Thomson?

Thomson. You’ll learn, Duke, you’ll learn in good time.

(Scrubby appears again announcing.)

Duke. But I wish you would⁠—

Scrubby. Mrs. Cliveden-Banks!

(She enters left and gushingly crosses to Thomson. Scrubby goes.)

Mrs. C-Banks. How do you do? How do you do? Very pleased to meet you.

Thomson. Delighted to meet you, Mrs. Cliveden-Banks. Come and sit down.

Mrs. C-Banks. Thank you. Very sultry weather for the time of the year, isn’t it? Still, we’ve had a lovely passage, haven’t we, dear Mr. Duke?

Duke. Oh, yes, delightful, dear Mrs. Cliveden-Banks.

Mrs. C-Banks. It was a bit rough at first though, I must admit. Between ourselves, I was publicly ill on several occasions, but I didn’t mind. I love giving pleasure to others.

Thomson. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.

Mrs. C-Banks. Oh, I did, I did. Thanks to your kind friend, Mr. Duke. We clung together like limpets. I really don’t know what I should have done without him. What wonderful men our church turns out, Mr.⁠—er⁠—

Thomson. Thomson, madam.

Mrs. C-Banks. No; surely not one of the Berkshire Thomsons?

Thomson. Not that I am aware of.

Mrs. C-Banks. Ah! a pity. My great-great-grandfather was a Berkshire Thomson.

Thomson. Really⁠—my great-great-grandfather was hanged for horse-thieving.

Mrs. C-Banks. How quaint.

Thomson. Mrs. Cliveden-Banks⁠—

Mrs. C-Banks. Do you play golf?

Thomson. I play indifferently.

Mrs. C-Banks. I think all men ought to play golf. It keeps them away from home such a lot. My husband, Colonel Cliveden-Banks, is quite an expert I believe.

Thomson. Oh, yes, Bunny’s hot stuff. I was having a round with him not long ago.

Mrs. C-Banks. I’m so glad to hear it. (A pause, then suddenly.) What did you say? You had a round with my husband not long ago?

Thomson. He was in terrific form after lunch.

Mrs. C-Banks (alarmed). When was this?

Thomson. Oh, about a week ago, I think.

Mrs. C-Banks. But I don’t understand. Is he here?

Thomson. He’s waiting for you. (Rises.) Yes, we had a great game. He’ll tell you all about it when you land.

Mrs. C-Banks. I don’t land!⁠—How did he get here?

Thomson. Poor old Bunny died a couple of months ago.

Mrs. C-Banks. How wicked of him. He might have let me know.

Thomson. Perhaps he didn’t think you’d care very much one way or the other.

Mrs. C-Banks. Why not? There was life insurance⁠—how like him, how very like him. Always self centred. Look at the passage money I’ve wasted! (Suddenly.) Benjamin and I are both dead then? (She moves to chair left of table.)

Thomson. Quite dead.

Mrs. C-Banks (hopefully). That makes the marriage null and void.

Thomson. Your marriage is only just beginning.

Mrs. C-Banks. How droll you are. But how nice of you to put it that way.

Thomson. Now will you go ashore. You’ll find everything most comfortable. A villa, servants, all you want⁠—and your husband waiting⁠—with outstretched arms.

Mrs. C-Banks. Yes, I can see him; exactly like a monkey.

Thomson. I hope you will be able to see his heart. I know it’s aching for you very badly.

Mrs. C-Banks. How ghastly.

Thomson. What’s the matter?

Mrs. C-Banks. What right’s he got to bob up again like this?

Thomson. Every right, and we’re very glad to have him here. Your husband is a very useful man.

Mrs. C-Banks. How well I know that phrase! It has always been used of Benjamin in every new office he’s undertaken, at the start. Later he invariably got the push.

(Henry and Ann pass the centre door again during this speech, look anxiously in and then pass on left.)

Thomson. And do you know why? Because of his wife’s malicious tongue.

Mrs. C-Banks (rises, crosses to left). How dare you? I’m sure I’ve never said anything nasty about anyone⁠—except when it was for their good. I’ve certainly never said anything bad about Benjamin. I don’t know that I’ve said anything good about him, because there’s nothing good to say about him. (Sits.)

Thomson. There is a very great deal of good in Bunny. But it was always stifled back by you. He was a staunch, a devoted husband⁠—look what he gave you⁠—and what did you give in return? Nothing!

Mrs. C-Banks. But I haven’t seen him for years.

Thomson. It was your neglect⁠—not his.

Mrs. C-Banks. Oh, but he looks so funny.

Thomson. The only funny thing about him is that he wants to see you. Why he should want to see you is beyond me. But he does, and he’s going to.

Mrs. C-Banks. And what shall I be exactly?

Thomson. You’ll be his wife; and in time you will learn to be a good wife.

Mrs. C-Banks. I refuse absolutely.

Thomson. You can’t refuse. (With finality.)

(A long pause.)

Mrs. C-Banks. I won’t do it! I won’t, I won’t.

Duke. Why won’t you, Mrs. Cliveden-Banks?

Mrs. C-Banks. He knows⁠—ask him. (Indicating Thomson.)

Duke. Mr. Thomson⁠—?

(Thomson is silent, waiting.)

Mrs. C-Banks (to Thomson). You know as well as I do, it’s his eyes. The look in his eyes. You know I couldn’t face them any more⁠—

Thomson. Yes;⁠—you never could look him in the eyes. You’re a thoroughly bad lot. You trapped him; you were grasping, you made him marry you. You⁠—you⁠—you⁠—

Mrs. C-Banks. Don’t let me down before him. (Indicating Duke.)

Thomson. I wouldn’t if you’d been a good harlot, but you weren’t, you were a bad one.

Mrs. C-Banks. (Pause.) Rather a vulgar way of putting it! Anyway I was nothing of the sort.

Duke. She always said she was a soldier’s daughter.

Mrs. C-Banks. And so I am!⁠—I’m the daughter of a lance-corporal. And mother never even knew his regiment. Is that frank enough for you, Mr. Duke?

Duke. Dear, dear, only a poor unfortunate after all.

Thomson. No, Duke, not a poor unfortunate. This old woman was once a beautiful young girl, outwardly, but she was never an unfortunate, never. She’s been just a schemer. And somehow she’s always managed to fall on her feet. There were two other men before she met Cliveden-Banks, richer men too than he was then. But she saw something steady in Bunny, so she made him marry her. He found out all about it later⁠—and he’s never told her. Too unselfish⁠—too “big”⁠—too loyal.⁠—So she goes back to him. I hope he beats her⁠—but I know he won’t. Anyway, she’ll get her punishment. The eyes that made her run away.⁠—Only remember, Mrs. Cliveden-Banks, it won’t be Bunny who’ll know now, it will be you and I and everybody except Bunny. He’ll have forgotten. (Over to left of table.)

Mrs. C-Banks. Um! Now let me see. A villa⁠—servants. And you really think Benjamin would idealise me? Oh well, I suppose it might be worse, I’ll go. (Rises, crosses to centre.)

Thomson. Of course you will.

Mrs. C-Banks. For his sake, yes. I see it’s my duty to. Ah, duty, duty, such a compelling thing. Speaking of duties, there are no customs, I suppose? No. Good. Perhaps you’ll both come and dine with the Colonel and me⁠—one night. Goodbye, Mr⁠—(Moves up centre to door)⁠—er⁠—Tomkins. (Pause.) You swine.

(She goes out right.)

Thomson. Phew! this place wants fumigating. (Henry and Ann appear from left and pause anxiously. Henry catches Duke’s eye and his appealing look is understood by Duke. Duke attracts Thomson’s attention to them.) Eh? (Turns and looks toward Henry and Ann⁠—then back to Duke.) Is this the⁠—er⁠—couple?

Duke (nods “Yes”). Can’t you⁠—?

Thomson (to Henry and Ann). (Shaking his head benignly.) Not yet, my children.

(Henry and Ann retire centre.)

Duke (after watching them off curiously, turns to Thomson). Thomson⁠—what are “half-ways”?

(Before Thomson can reply Prior enters left excitedly.)

Tom. Duke⁠—Duke!

Duke. Yes. (Cross left.)

Tom. Make him see me next.

Duke. Really, Prior⁠—

Tom. You must, I can’t stand the suspense. My nerves aren’t right⁠—and I can’t stand it.

Duke. There’s nothing to worry about.

Tom (shouts). I tell you I can’t stand it. I want to be put out.

Thomson (turning and coming down). What’s the matter, boy?

Tom. Oh, sir, if you please, I want you to deal with me next. It isn’t fair treating me like the others⁠—I’m very highly strung.

Thomson. Come in, boy, come in and don’t be frightened. (Passes Tom to chair left of table.) We’re not going to hurt you. (Leading him over.) There, sit down there. Now what’s the trouble?

Tom. I want to be dealt with, sir. I want to know.

Thomson. Calm yourself, boy, calm yourself. (Giving him glass.) Drink this. You’re fond of your drink, I know.

Tom. Thanks, sir. (Drinks and then holds out glass again.)

Thomson. Well, what do you want? (Goes right of table and sits.)

Tom. I want to be killed⁠—I want to be killed.

Thomson. Um! Healthy outlook you’ve got, haven’t you?

Tom. No, I haven’t. I’m a weak character. I want to be let off lightly. I want to be hit over the head with a stone and finished.

Thomson (rises). Duke, send ashore for a bag of stones, will you?

Tom. Oh, don’t joke! I’ll drop all sarcasm⁠—it’s the only thing that kept me going up till now⁠—but I’ll drop it now if you will.

Thomson. Certainly. (Sits right of table.)

Tom. I know⁠—at least I guess what you’re doing with the others. You’re keeping them going, keeping them going with punishment and promises and things. Well, I don’t want to be kept going. I want blank.

Thomson. Impossible.

Tom. But I’m dead. (Rise.) And I demand the right to be properly dead. I’ve always dreamt about being dead⁠—when I’ve slept at all.

Thomson. How old are you?

Tom (sits). Oh, hundreds of years⁠—I must be. Give me blank.

Thomson. You’re going on like the others. You’ve got to.

Tom. I won’t, I won’t!

Thomson. You’ll find it quite easy to forget here, you know.

Tom. Easy to forget what? You’re not suggesting I’m to go on, and without this? (The glass.)

(Mrs. Midget appears left.)

Thomson. Yes.

Tom. Is that all I’m to forget?

Thomson. Yes.

Tom. As if I could! As if I would anyway. You damned torturer. I see what you want me to do. You want me to chuck drink, develop a nice clean brain and remember all the other horrors! No, I won’t do it. It’s all I’ve got, it’s my only comfort and if I’m to go on I won’t give it up. See? But I’m not going to go on. Kill me! There, it’s not asking much. And look at all the trouble it will spare you. I’m not worth saving. I’m not really.

Thomson. You’ve suffered.

Tom. Ha! (As if to say “Haven’t I?”)

Thomson. Can’t I do anything?

Tom. No, you can’t. (Rises and goes up centre.)

Mrs. Midget (quietly from the back). Perhaps I could, sir.

Thomson (facing sharply). What do you want?

Mrs. Midget. My name’s Midget, sir. Excuse me bargein’ in as it were, but⁠—

Thomson. I’m very pleased to meet you⁠—yes, yes, I know all about you. But you’ve no business here yet.

Mrs. Midget. Oh, but I have. You see, yer reverence, when I first got on to this big boat nobody would speak to me. I was lost as it were⁠—was⁠—and then young Mr. Prior was very kind to me. ’E spoke to me and broke the icicles, as is said, and if he is in trouble I really don’t feel I could put my ’ead on my pillow to-night⁠—if I ’ave one⁠—after what ’e done for me. (Goes to Tom, touches him.) Now what is all this fluster and to do, anyway? It’s about the booze, ain’t it?

Tom. Booze⁠—eh? Oh, well⁠—yes⁠—drink is certainly mixed up with it.

Mrs. Midget. Nasty ’orrid stuff.

Tom. Beautiful stuff, Mrs. Midget.

Mrs. Midget. Mind you I don’t say there’s any ’arm in a man ’aving’ ’is beer if he wants ’is beer, but the man I does object to is the man who’s always wanting it. I shouldn’t think you’ve ever ’ad much of a chance, though, ’ave you, sir?

Tom. I’ve had every chance, Mrs. Midget. I was spoilt. I was ungrateful. I ruined⁠—Please drop it.

Mrs. Midget (pause). There was a girl, too, wasn’t there?

Tom. Be quiet!

Mrs. Midget (another pause). There was a girl, though, wasn’t there?

Tom. Oh yes, there was. How did you know?

Mrs. Midget. She was the final old ’ow do you do, I take it?

Tom. As you so poetically express it, she was.

(Henry and Ann appear at door centre and unseen by the others stand listening apprehensively.)

Mrs. Midget. She chucked you, didn’t she? But you’ll be different now, I know something about girls and⁠—your reverence (behind Tom to Thomson), I daresay this particular one might come along here some day?

Thomson. It’s quite possible. But it doesn’t always follow, Mrs. Midget, that just because a boy and girl are sweethearts, they may always go on together here. On the contrary, they’re sometimes separated⁠—so much depends⁠—so much depends.

(Ann utters a faint wail and Henry leads her further back into the shadows up left where they remain enviously watching the rest of the scene. Mrs. Midget looks sympathetically at Henry and Ann; then resumes to Tom.)

Mrs. Midget. What a triumph it would be for you if your girl suddenly appeared ’ere and found you, mind yer it might ’appen, settled down and smart and respectable like, with a good job and a decent salary reg’lar every Saturday. (To Thomson.) I suppose you’ve got jobs ’ere, ’aven’t you?

Thomson. Plenty.

Mrs. Midget. Now what you want is a nice, good, honest, steady respectable housekeeper who’d take care of you.

Tom (annoyed). Mrs. Midget⁠—!

Mrs. Midget. Yes, she might do. Then all your things would be properly looked after. With everything mended and darned ready for yer to put on. Someone to see yer didn’t sit up too late, too often. No fussing mind, and call you in the morning with a nice ’ot cup of tea. What time do you get up?

Tom. Oh, don’t!

Mrs. Midget. Oh you can ’ave your drinks, as long as you don’t let them interfere with your meals or take away your appetite. I’m a good cook I am, and if you left anything untouched it would upset me awful.

Thomson. Mrs. Midget, you’re suggesting.

Mrs. Midget. I was thinking of it, yes.

Thomson. Very fine, very fine of you. There’s a little cottage waiting for you, with a garden by the sea.

Mrs. Midget (enthusiastic). There we are then! The very spot. (Sudden change to the practical.) ’As it got a good sink?

Thomson. You don’t quite follow. True, Mr. Prior is free to do as he chooses but he has not yet arrived on the same plane as you have. He would not be allowed to live there to begin with anyway.

Mrs. Midget. Then why can’t I go where he’s going? That’s simple enough.

Thomson. It would mean going back to the slums.

Mrs. Midget. And what’s the matter with the slums. They’re all right.

Tom. I won’t listen to the idea.

Mrs. Midget (pleading). You can always give me a week’s notice.

Tom. I’m not worth bothering about.

Mrs. Midget. I’m willing to ’ave a shot.

Tom. I can’t understand this extraordinary interest anyway.

Mrs. Midget. One good turn deserves another. Sir, wouldn’t the people who spoilt you be glad if they knew you was in capable ’ands?

Tom. They would be, I suppose.

Mrs. Midget. And doing well? (With growing fervour.)

Tom. Er⁠—yes⁠—of course.

Mrs. Midget. That might ease those ’orrid thoughts of yours a bit too, mightn’t it?

Tom. It might.

Mrs. Midget. Well then, ain’t it worth it?

Tom. This is another trap.

Mrs. Midget. Velvet-lined, sir.

Tom. Please don’t keep on calling me “sir,” I’m not a gentleman really.

Mrs. Midget. Aren’t you, sir?

Tom. No, I’m not. If I were, I shouldn’t be hesitating as I am. Mr. Examiner, help me. You must be experienced in making decisions.

Thomson. No, boy, I can’t help you in this. It’s your own choice.

Tom. Duke, I⁠—

Duke. You know what Mr. Thomson said, it’s for you to speak.

Tom. Very well then. (Pause.) I’ll go. (Rising and going up centre. Another pause.) By myself!

Duke. Prior!

Tom. I’m not worth bothering about.

Thomson. And in those very words you’ve proved you are! Because you really meant ’em. Humility, my boy, humility! Take him away, Mrs. What’s⁠—er⁠—name and do the best you can with him. And jolly good luck to you both, you couple of rascals.

Tom. Mind you I won’t promise⁠—I won’t promise to be good.

Mrs. Midget. No, sir, we’ll just ’ope⁠—mutual like.

Tom (fingering his glass). It’s going to be difficult⁠—yes, it’s going to be difficult.

Thomson. That’s the way.

Tom. Thanks awfully. (Sets down glass.) And I will try.

(He goes out on to the deck and off right. Mrs. Midget overjoyed starts to follow him.)

Thomson. Good day, Mrs. Prior⁠—you’re a good mother.

Mrs. Midget (turning on Thomson ferociously). Blast you, how did you find out. Blast you! (Then suddenly changing to pleading pitifully.) You’ll never tell ’im, will you? Promise you’ll never let him know.

Thomson. I promise.

Mrs. Midget (going to Duke and clutching him). And you too, sir?

Duke. I promise, of course.

Mrs. Midget (turning back). Thank you, both. You see he mustn’t even guess. Oh, sirs, ain’t it wonderful? He doesn’t know me, and I’ve got him to look after at last⁠—Without any fear of me disgracing him, it’s ’Eaven, that’s what it is, it’s ’Eaven!

Tom (off). Mrs. Midget.

Mrs. Midget. He wants me at last⁠—yes dearie, I’m coming. (She goes out centre in ecstacy, and off right.)

(Thomson with a pleased chuckle stands left of door with his back to Henry and Ann, watching her out. Duke stands further down right. Henry and Ann drop down to extreme left.)

Thomson (after a pause). Come along, Duke. (He comes down a bit, takes Duke by the arm in a most fraternal way and without looking back goes out centre and off right.)

(Duke follows but hesitates at door a moment and looks back at Henry and Ann, who stand mystified and fearful. Henry makes a slight but frantic gesture of appeal to Duke as if to say “But what about us?” Duke looks at them sympathetically, but shrugs his shoulders helplessly. Duke follows and disappears. Henry and Ann stand hopeless and bewildered, they look from one to the other curiously; then she, terror-stricken in awful apprehension of the uncertainty of their plight, at their being ignored, at the mystery of it all, suddenly clutches Henry’s arm and holds to him tightly.)

Curtain.