EXPRESS!A Railway Romance, in One Compartment.(Adapted from the French.)DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.A LADY.A GENTLEMAN.A RAILWAYGUARD.[The action is supposed to take place in a first-class railway-carriage, travelling on a certain line between a certain place and another certain place.]SCENE.—A plain interior, supposed to represent a compartment in a first-class railway-carriage; door in flat atC.—the entrance—four easy-chairs placed two and two opposite the others, representing the seats—on the second chair atL.H. an open newspaper.The actor playing the part of the gentleman enters at doorC. in light overcoat, with travelling-bag, hat-box, and railway-rug over his arm; he places the bag, hat-box, and rug on first chair,L.H., and advances, cap in hand, and, after sundry bows, proceeds to explain the scene to the audience.Ladies and gentlemen: The little piece we are about to present to you is supposed to take place in a first-class compartment of a railway-carriage, travelling express from—from—Plymouth to London; shall we say Plymouth to London?—very well—Plymouth to London. You will also be good enough to see in the humble individual who is now addressing you, a deputy-assistant-deputy-inspector of Government prisons, returning from an official visit to that well-known and, judging from the constant stream of applications for admission, highly popular convict establishment at—at—Dartmouth; shall we say Dartmouth?—be it so, we’ll say Dartmouth! Our first idea, in order to impart a greater reality to the situation, was to place before you a regular train with locomotive, etc., etc., all complete, and for this purpose we applied to a certain railway company for the loan of one; but the secretary, in reply, said that the only materials he could offer us were cattle-trucks and coal-wagons, all the passenger rolling-stock being in requisition, owing to the unusual number they had smashed up during the year. He certainly offered us the use of an engine, but at the same time candidly gave us to understand that it was a little bit rusty, and wouldn’t stand the slightest pressure; he further added that if the knob of the steam-whistleshouldhappen to knock out the front teeth of any of the audience, we were not to blamehimif we had a few compensation actions to sustain!—and so on! Altogether the alternative was so dismal that we decided on sacrificing a flaming line in our play-bill about “flashing express,” “real steam,” “genuine foot-warmers,” which we had composed for the occasion, and to fall back upon the best scene that our stage-carpenter and property-man could prepare for us.We must, therefore, ask you to bring your imaginations to our aid, and to fancy you see in that door and in these four easy-chairs the interior of a first-class compartment of a railway-carriage, and to imagine further that I have passed the night in one of them, and am at the present moment still enjoying a profound sleep.And now, ladies and gentlemen, permit me to enter into my part, to seat myself in the snuggest corner I can find, and to resume my interrupted nap! (makes a profound bow to audience, goes up stage, and seats himself on the first chair,L.H.; puts on his travelling-cap, wraps himself up in the railway-rug, after having placed on the second chair,L., his travelling-bag, a railway guide, and a paper-knife; he then yawns once or twice, then falls asleep, and after a time snores gently. Loud noise of train arriving, withsteam-engine, railway-bell, and whistle, as the train is supposed to arrive and gradually to stop).GUARD(heard without). Reading! Change here for Guildford, Dorking, Reigate, Redhill!VOICE(without). Guard, how long do we stop here?GUARD(without). Ten minutes, sir! (Cries of “Reading; change here,” etc., etc., etc., repeated, and gradually diminishing, accompanied by noise of slamming doors, etc.)GENTLEMAN(starting from his sleep). What’s that? Who speaks of stopping? I wonder what the time is? (Looks at watch.) Seven o’clock? (Opens door and looks out.) Broad daylight, I declare (closing door again); then I must have slept the best part of the night! I don’t even remember my travelling companion getting out; he seems to have forgotten his newspaper (taking up paper from chair). Not a very talkative fellow; in fact, he never opened his mouth, except to put something into it—principally Abernethys and peppermint-drops. By Jove, hisDaily Newsis full of crumbs and caraways now!—a regular pantry!GUARD(again heard without). Reading! Ten minutes to stop!GENTLEMAN. Ten minutes to stop? Then I may as well get out and stretch my legs a bit (rises, puts railway-rug, guide, and travelling-bag on his seat, and goes to doorC.; then calls). Guard, whereabouts is the refreshment-bar?GUARD(without). This way, sir (GENTLEMANgoes out at doorC. towardsR.H.—short pause).TheLADYlooks in atC. and stops; then enters with two small parcels and a bonnet-box.LADY. Yes; all things considered, I decidedly prefer this carriage to the ladies’ compartment, where there’s only room for one, and then what should I do with my packages? Besides, ladies are not soremarkablyagreeable among themselves; while here— (looking about her). Let me see, which corner shall I take? I think this will do (indicating the seat which theGENTLEMANhasjust left); one’s face to the engine, and not so likely to be troubled by people getting in and out; yes, this will do very well indeed! (during this she removes theGENTLEMAN’Seffects from first chairL.H. to the opposite chair atR.) And after all, provided one has agentlemanfor a travelling companion, a host of these little difficulties soon disappear! (Seats herself on first chairL.H.). There! I shall do very nicely here—very nicely indeed! (Here theGENTLEMANappears outside at doorC.) Some one’s coming! one of the opposite sex! Ihopea gentleman. Suppose I pretend to be asleep? I will! I’ll shut my eyes, and then I shall be able to judge of his appearance! (wraps herself up so as to conceal her face, and pretends to be asleep).GENTLEMAN(entering at door and stamping his feet). I feel all the better! Thanks to a glass of sherry and half a dozen rapid turns up and down the platform, the circulation is re-established; so now for another dose of pins and needles. Holloa! what’s this?—my seat taken, and all my things bundled away anyhow on another seat! Well, of all the cool proceedings— (To theLADY.) I beg pardon, madam, but— Asleep? Rather a sudden attack of drowsiness, considering she can’t have been here more than five minutes! However, she’s a lady—at least she looks like one, though sheissuch a cool hand, and I can’t be so ungallant as to turn her out, especially as she looks so snug and comfortable! I must take another corner! (He seats himself on second chair atL.H., partly turning his back to theLADY.)LADY(aside and partly uncovering her face). I knew these little difficulties would soon arrange themselves! (wraps herself up as before).GENTLEMAN(fidgeting about in his seat). I was much more comfortable in my own seat. There was a nice hollow for one’s back there; but here there’s a confounded lump that’s positively painful! I must confess I have found that women in general haven’t the slightest hesitation in taking advantage of one if they possibly can. Here’s an instance; just as I had got used to myseat, in comes one of the weaker sex and turns me out bag and baggage! They know their power, and abuse it: too bad! Now (looking aside atLADY) if my neighbor were but young—and pretty into the bargain—but no; catch a woman wrapping herself up like that when sheisyoung (gaping) and pretty! (His head nods once or twice, and he falls asleep.)GUARD(without). Take your seats! Any more going on?LADY(cautiously peeping atGENTLEMAN,then uncovering, and aside). So it seems I shall have no other travelling companion but this gentleman! (Here loud railway-whistle heard, and noise of train starting.) We’re off. (Looking atGENTLEMANagain.) I must say he appears to be perfectly harmless and inoffensive. (GENTLEMANsnores.) What did he say? (A louder snore fromGENTLEMAN). Well, if that’s a specimen of his conversation, it isn’t likely to compromise one! (Another snore.) I may as well go to sleep myself, and then, perhaps, I may be able to join in theconversationtoo! (Wraps herself up, but this time allows her face to remain uncovered; closes her eyes; pause.)GENTLEMAN(suddenly waking and shifting his position). Decidedly, of all the uncomfortable seats this is the most uncomfortable. Ishouldlike to know what they stuff their cushions with; I feel as if I’d got a quartern loaf at my back! (Taking a rapid glance atLADY,then, in a savage tone.)Sheseems comfortable enough! How absurd—how ridiculous of me not to have demanded—not to have in-sis-ted. (Looking again atLADY.) By Jove, sheisyoung! and by no means bad-looking! Bad-looking! she’s pretty—verypretty—excessivelypretty! and to think I should have actually gone to sleep in her presence! One never knows what one does in one’s sleep; luckily, I never snore; that’s one comfort! (Takes off his travelling-cap, arranges his hair, cravat, etc.) How soundly she sleeps—if shedoessleep! (in doubt). When one isreallyasleep—I meanfastasleep—it isn’t usual to wear a smile on one’s face; on the contrary, one’s face generally gets ugly! I’ll be bound that just now I was positively hideous!(He coughs loudly, theLADYmoves.) She wakes! (Suddenly and loudly.) What a beautiful country! what a lovely green on those meadows! (LADYkeeps silence.) I’ll try again! (Still louder.) How unusually beautiful are the autumn tints, especially so early in the spring! (Pause; aside.) No response? She must have taken a sleeping draught!LADY(pretending to wake). A thousand pardons, sir; did you speak?GENTLEMAN. I was merely observing what a lovely meadow on those greens! I mean (another pause) I hear the harvest is likely to be a plentiful one, although I’m told that turnips are backward; I haven’t heard anything about carrots.LADY(in an indifferent tone). I beg pardon; were you speaking to me? (Aside.) Some gentleman farmer, evidently.GENTLEMAN(nettled, and imitating her—aside). “Were you speaking to me?” I rather think Iwasspeaking to her! Holloa! she’s off to sleep again! No one can callherparticularly wide-awake. Well, since she’s off into land of dreams again, I don’t see why I shouldn’t indulge in a cigarette (takes out some cigarette papers, tobacco pouch, spreads them on his knees and proceeds to make a cigarette; then stops). Stop, though! I can’t smoke without first asking her permission; of course not! (Aloud, and coughing.) Ahem! (Watching her.) Sound as a top! Try again! (Coughing louder.) Ahem! (TheLADYopens her eyes and moves impatiently—aside.) That did it!GENTLEMAN(apologetically). My cough is rather troublesome, ma’am.LADY. I find it so—very!GENTLEMAN(aside). Well! that’s about the rudest thing I’ve heard for some time! (Aloud.) I was about to ask you whether you object to the smell of tobacco?LADY. Oh, not at all, sir!GENTLEMAN. Thank you! (proceeds to make his cigarette, and about to light it).LADY. I mean, not till it’s lighted!GENTLEMAN. Oh, I see; and then you do?LADY. Very much, indeed!GENTLEMAN. Even when you are asleep? (in an insinuating tone).LADY(slowly and decisively). Whether I am awakeorasleep, sir!GENTLEMAN(aside). Now that’s what I call selfish—just as if the smokecouldget up her nose when her eyes are shut! (putting away his smoking apparatus. Aside). I must say Ihavemet more agreeable young ladies—very muchmore agreeable—in fact, I may say I never remember meeting onelessagreeable. Well, I sha’n’t disturb the “Sleeping Beauty” again in a hurry. Now for another nap! (sulkily crams smoking apparatus into his pocket, draws his cap very much over his head, stands up, folds himself up in his rug, and then flounces down on his seat again, partially turning his back to theLADY).LADY. (slowly turning her head and taking a glance atGENTLEMAN). Well, I must confess he put away his smoking apparatus with a very good grace! (Sees newspaper.) Some one has left a newspaper! (Taking newspaper and reading.) Um, um!Plymouth Gazette.“Foreign News,” “Paris Fashions,” “Early Strawberries.” What’s this? “Escape of a convict. We learn that Benjamin Burkshaw, a criminal of the most desperate character, effected his escape from Dartmoor prison yesterday. The following is his description: Age, not exactly known; eyes, nothing peculiar; wears a long black beard—has probably cut it off; walks slightly lame with one leg, uncertain which; supposed to have directed his steps towards London, or in some other direction.” Dear me! it is just possible he may be in this very train! (looking aside at theGENTLEMAN,then reading again). “Middle height” (looking again atGENTLEMAN); “inclined to be stout” (another look atGENTLEMAN); he’s so rolled up in his rug one can’t judge! (Reads again.) “Slightly bald, with a scar on leftside of forehead” (here theGENTLEMANin his sleep hastily pulls his travelling-cap over his forehead; theLADYgives a sudden start, and recoils as far as possible from theGENTLEMAN). How very suddenly he pulled his cap over his forehead—and the left side of it too! Pshaw! how foolish, how absurd of me! (Reads paper again, and then closes her eyes once more.)GENTLEMAN(rousing himself). It’s no use! I can’t get a wink of sleep, except by fits and starts—principally starts! (Looking atLADY.) Still asleep! and no book to read except this “Illustrated Guide through England and Wales.” However, that’s better than “Bradshaw.” (During above he has taken a book out of his bag, and cuts the leaves with a paper-knife; turns over leaves.) What’s this? (Reads.) “Maidenhead. It was in the neighborhood of this picturesque town that the famous Dick Turpin—” (Here theLADYandGENTLEMANare suddenly thrown forward.)LADY(alarmed). What a shock! Has anything happened?GENTLEMAN(indifferently). Nothing of consequence! merely the train passing over something—or somebody!LADY(aside). Rather an unfeeling remark! (Aloud.) Can you tell me where we are, sir? I am quite a stranger to this line.GENTLEMAN. Weshouldbe near Slough. You may not be aware, madam, that it was here that—(taking a peep aside at his book)—“that the famous Dick Turpin”—you’ve heard of Dick Turpin, of course—the celebrated highwayman? (LADYshakes her head). Well, it was here that he was in the habit of spending his leisure hours—I mean when he’d nothing better to do—in—in (taking another peep at book)—“in planting potatoes!”—Poor Dick! my great-grandfather saw him hanged!LADY(shocked). Hanged?GENTLEMAN. Yes—I forget exactly what for—something about putting an old lady on the kitchen fire!LADY(indignantly). Surely, never was a fate more richly deserved!GENTLEMAN. On the contrary, she was quite a respectable sort of old body!LADY(aloud, and in a satirical tone). Thanks, sir, for your kind andinterestinginformation!GENTLEMAN(modestly). Don’t mention it, I beg!LADY(aside). A newspaper correspondent, perhaps! I prefer that to a farmer!GENTLEMAN(after a short pause). I find the sun rather too warm on this side of the carriage, madam—will it inconvenience you if I take this seat? (indicating first chair atR.).LADY. Not in the least! Indeed, I should have the less right to object, as I am afraid I have appropriatedyours;and by far the more comfortable one, I suspect!GENTLEMAN. You simply foresaw that I should offer it to you, madam!LADY. Oh, sir! (bowing).GENTLEMAN. Oh, madam! (bowing; he removes things from where theLADYhad placed them, and seats himself opposite to her).LADY(aside). Really a very pleasant, agreeable fellow!GENTLEMAN(aside). Her full face is even better than her profile! (Aloud, and in a sentimental tone.) Ah, madam! would it were in my power to prolong this pleasant journey—this delightfultête-à-tête!LADY(with dignity). Sir!GENTLEMAN(aside). That’s no go! (Aloud.) I mean, madam, that one seems to traveltoofast nowadays! (LADYexpresses surprise.) In fact, we’realltoo fast!LADY(severely). Sir!GENTLEMAN(aside).That’sno go! (Aloud.) We’ve only to contrast the present with the time when the wife of one of our ancient kings traversed the whole of England by easy stages of five miles a day!LADY. Of whom do you speak?GENTLEMAN. Of—of— (Aside.) Hang me if I know! (Aloud.)Of Tabitha—I mean Elgitha, the wife of—Edmund—Sobersides—I should say Ironsides! But without going quite so far back, madam, I confess I often regret the days of those heavy old stage-coaches called “High-flyers,” “Eclipses,” and “Rockets.”LADY(smiling). Because they went so slowly?GENTLEMAN. Precisely. Still, it had its advantages—it gave one an opportunity to make the acquaintance of one’s travelling companions—to establish a friendly feeling—perhaps one of a moretendernature! (with a tender look at theLADY).LADY(with a stare of astonishment). Sir!GENTLEMAN(aside). It’s no use. I won’t try any more! (Aloud, and in a more colloquial tone.) Besides, in a stage-coach there was always the chance of one of those little adventures that so often happened on the road!LADY. You mean attacks by highwaymen, such as yourfriendMr.—Turpin—who had a weakness for putting respectable old ladies on the kitchen fire? (smiling satirically—then, changing her tone). I remember myself a certain event which happened some five or six years ago when we were travelling.GENTLEMAN.We?You and your pa and ma, probably?LADY. My husband and I!GENTLEMAN. Husband? you are married, ma’am! actually, positively married?LADY. Alas, sir! (sighing).GENTLEMAN(aside). I see! an unhappy union!—an ill-assorted match—poor soul! (Aloud.) Ah, madam, you are not the only one of your too confiding sex who have found marriage a bed of roses—I mean, of nettles, instead of one of nettles—I mean roses!LADY. But, sir—you mistake—alas, sir, I am a widow!GENTLEMAN. A widow? I’m delighted to hear it! No, I’m not! of course not! I deeply sympathize with you—as I always do with widows—I know what it is myself. But you mustn’t give way—you’ll get used to it in time—like the eels—no, notlike the eels—but you were about to mention some adventure which happened to you while travelling with—the late lamented. (Noise heard of train gradually stopping—engine, railway-bell, whistle, etc.)VOICE(outside, gradually approaching). “Slough! Slough! change for Windsor; all tickets ready.”GENTLEMAN(angrily). All tickets ready! these railway companies are perfectly absurd, with their mania for examining tickets! (feeling in his pocket).LADY(smiling). Another advantage of the good old coaching days!GENTLEMAN. Yes, quite so! (feeling again in his pockets, one after the other). Ah! here it is—no, it isn’t—how very odd; now I’ve got it—no, I haven’t! (diving in his pockets again).LADY. I’m afraid you’ve lost your ticket, sir.GENTLEMAN. Oh no! I haven’tlostit—only I can’t find it!LADY. You may have dropped it? (looking about on floor).GENTLEMAN. Pray don’t trouble yourself; I shall be sure to find it—(aside) as soon as I’ve paid for another! (Aloud.) I’ll just speak to the station-master. Excuse me a moment? (LADYbows,GENTLEMANexit atC., and disappears towardsL.H.)LADY. Poor fellow! no wonder he dislikes railways if he’s in the habit of losing his ticket every time he travels!GUARDappears at doorC.GUARD(toLADY). Ticket, please, ma’am? (Takes ticket, and returns it toLADY.) Thank you, ma’am. (Seeing theGENTLEMAN’Sbag, etc., on seat.) These things belong to you, ma’am?LADY. Oh no!GUARD. Has any one left this carriage?LADY. Yes! a gentleman—not a minute ago.GUARD(sulkily). How can I examine people’s tickets when they get out at every station?LADY. He fancies he has lost his ticket.GUARD(suspiciously). Lost his ticket?—what a pity! (Aside.) That’s an old dodge! (Aloud.) Is the gentleman one of your party, ma’am?LADY. Oh dear no! only so far as we are journeying in the same compartment.GUARD(examining theGENTLEMAN’Sbag). No name on his travelling-bag—that’s queer! We’re expected to keep both eyes open on this line, ma’am—only yesterday we nabbed a desperate bank forger at this very station; and we’re on the lookout for an escaped convict to-day!LADY(aside). An escaped convict? that dreadful Mr. Burkshaw, no doubt? Not a very cheerful subject of conversation—I’m really getting quite nervous! (collecting her packages and rising).GUARD. Going to get out, ma’am?LADY. Yes, I should prefer the ladies’ compartment.GUARD. No room there, ma’am; eight of ’em already, besides babies!LADY. I may get into another carriage, I presume?GUARD. Certainly, ma’am. Good-day, ma’am (goes out at door).LADY. Stop! stop! Help me out! Guard! guard! (calling).GUARD(outside). Can’t stop now, ma’am. Train just going on.LADY. This is really too bad! Can’t even change carriages on this line, which seems to be especially patronized by the criminal classes! But pshaw! I’m alarming myself unnecessarily. Is it likely that this gentleman—and heisa gentleman—who seems to be on intimate terms with the wife of Edmund Ironsides—can possibly have any connection with— How absurd of me! I really ought to be ashamed of myself. (Seeing the paper-knife which theGENTLEMANhas left on seat.) What a strange-looking paper-knife—quite a formidable weapon!Isit a paper-knife? it looks more like a stiletto! (Taking up paper-knife very carefully between her finger and thumb, and then quickly dropping it again). Such an instrument as that was never made to cutleaves!It looks much adapted to— (Shuddering.) How ridiculous of me!My silly fears are running away with me again. Ha, ha, ha! (forcing a laugh).GUARD(without). Take your seats!GENTLEMANhurries in atC. TheLADYsuddenly stops laughing, and gets as far as she can into her corner.GENTLEMAN. I’ve found my ticket! I knew I should the moment I bought another. (Takes his seat. To theLADY). Where do you suppose it was?—you’ll never guess. In my purse, where I always put my tickets! Ha, ha, ha!LADY(aside). Hehada ticket, then?GENTLEMAN. It is very kind of you to interest yourself in the misfortunes of a stranger (bowing).LADY. Is it not natural?GENTLEMAN. It seems to be so toyou,madam (bowing again and moving a little towardsLADY,who retreats).LADY(aside). If I could only induce him to remove his travelling-cap—not that I should discover the slightest scar onhisforehead—I should then be completely reassured. (Suddenly.) Pardon me—is not that a friend of yours bowing to you on the other platform? (indicating the audience).GENTLEMAN. Bowing to me? where? (putting his hand to his cap).LADY(pointing). There! (Aside.) Now for it!GENTLEMAN(lowering his hand again without removing his cap). No, ma’am, I don’t know him; besides, he’s not bowing to me.LADY(aside). That’s a failure!GENTLEMAN. Holloa! Somebody’s been moving my things!LADY. Yes, the guard!—he seemed curious—I might sayanxious—to ascertain if your name was on your travelling-bag!GENTLEMAN. Very inquisitive of him! Why should I make my name public property?—there may be reasons why I shouldnot!—pressing reasons! You can understand that, madam?LADY. Y—es! I’m afraid I can—I mean, of course I can!GENTLEMAN. But, as I was saying, the interest you have so kindly taken in me—a perfect stranger—LADY(very quickly). Not at all, sir; on the contrary! No—that is—GENTLEMAN. Permit me to continue. That interest, I repeat, comes naturally toyou,blessed, as I’m sure you are, with so sweet, so gentle, so affectionate a disposition.LADY(very quickly). Quite the reverse, I assure you, sir—I’ve a dreadful temper!GENTLEMAN. Again: that charming hand is not less characteristic; it requires but one glance at those delicately tapered fingers— (About to take her hand;LADYhastily withdraws it.)LADY(aside). I do believe the man’s going to make love to me!GENTLEMAN. But stay: I see one line here that is singularly prominent; permit me (takingLADY’Shand).LADY(aside). I’m quite at his mercy! Not the slightest use my screaming!GENTLEMAN(looking at her hand). Yes, a very sudden intersection, threatening, I fear, some personal danger.LADY(alarmed). Yes, very likely! (Aside.) How intently he fixes his eyes on my diamond ring!GENTLEMAN. But were you not saying that you had once been exposed to some peril in travelling?LADY. Yes; but I was notalonethen.GENTLEMAN. The “late lamented,” I presume?LADY. Yes; we were attacked by robbers in crossing the Pyrenees! (Very quickly.) Not that I particularly object to robbers! In fact, I rather like them! (Aside.) I may as well try what a little flattery will do.GENTLEMAN(still holding her hand). You have a remarkably fine diamond here, madam!LADY. Yes, a very goodimitation,isn’t it?GENTLEMAN. Excuse me. I cannot mistake a diamond—no, no; I’ve had too many pass through my hands to do that!LADY(aside). I’m afraid he has!GENTLEMAN. And yet there’s a flaw in it—if you’ll allow me, I’ll point it out to you. (Looking about, then suddenly taking up the paper-knife; theLADYscreams.) I’m afraid I alarmed you!LADY(trying to be calm). Oh dear no! and if you’ve quite done examining my hand—GENTLEMAN. Quite, madam! (releasing her hand).LADY. And you detect no further threatening of—personal danger?GENTLEMAN. None whatever!LADY. Then you are a believer in spiritualism and phrenology, and all that sort of thing?GENTLEMAN. Certainly I am! May I ask, madam, if you have ever examined the head of a criminal?LADY(shocked). Never, sir!GENTLEMAN. Perhaps you have never even been brought into personal contact with one?LADY. Certainly not, sir; though I’m sure I should feel the greatest pity for him—I should, indeed! (in a commiserating tone).GENTLEMAN. Understand me; I don’t allude to themilderclass of criminals, such as thieves, robbers, forgers, burglars, and such like; but one of those desperate fellows who—who—in fact, whostick at nothing!By-the-bye, I have a collection here of photographs of some of our most notorious criminals, which I think would interest you.LADY(shuddering). Yes—intensely!GENTLEMAN(opening his travelling-bag). Ah! (producing a revolver) there’s rather a curious story connected with this revolver!LADY(alarmed, and trying to look unconcerned). Indeed?GENTLEMAN. I never travel without one—every chamberloaded and ready for use, so that I have six lives at my disposal—a very comfortable feeling to have! Don’t you think so?LADY. Yes, very much so, indeed!GENTLEMAN. Here are the photographs (producing packet); here is one of them (about to show a portrait). No, I make a mistake; this is one of myself.LADY(aghast). Yours?GENTLEMAN(smiling). Yes! this is the one! (presenting a second portrait). You’ll observe a remarkable protuberance of this part of the skull (pointing to it); that’s the organ of destructiveness. I have it myself, only notquiteso strongly developed! (touching his head); don’t you perceive it?LADY. Yes—I—see! But I confess I cannot understand howyouhappen to be in possession of theseremarkably interesting—works of art?GENTLEMAN(smiling). A very simple matter—my occupation necessitates my associating with this particular class of “her Majesty’s subjects”—as I happen to be—LADY(quickly). Hush! I know! You need not tell me!GENTLEMAN(anxiously). What is the matter? You are positively trembling—with cold, no doubt! Allow me to wrap this rug round you.LADY. No, no!GENTLEMAN. Nay, I insist! (placing his rug roundLADY’Sfeet).LADY. But you will feel the want of it yourself, especially as it seems you have passed the night in the train!GENTLEMAN. Exactly! Six hours ago I was in Dartmoor Prison!LADY. Dartmoor! (Aside.) He confesses it!GENTLEMAN(smiling). Not a very attractive residence. I would gladly have left it before, but, unfortunately, I was detained!LADY. Detained!GENTLEMAN(smiling). I may saychainedto it—by my confounded profession!LADY(aside). He calls it aprofession!GENTLEMAN. There’s no saying how long the Home Secretary might have kept me there; but I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I managed to make my escape, and now I’m free once more!LADY(suddenly starting up with a scream). Stop, sir! Don’t say any more! Have pity on me, for mercy’s sake! (falling on her knees and clasping her hands).GENTLEMAN(astounded). My dear madam—LADY(hysterically). I know who you are; I know all about the scar on your forehead! But I won’t betray you—I won’t, indeed! Here, take my purse!—take my watch! (thrusting the articles into theGENTLEMAN’Shands)—allI have, good Mr. Burkshaw!—but spare my life!GENTLEMAN. Your life? Mr. Burkshaw? What—what do you mean?LADY. Mercy! mercy!GENTLEMAN(seriously). My dear madam! Pray compose yourself! You have evidently fallen into some strange error; in a word, I happen to be—LADY. Yes, yes! I know who you happen to be! Take my advice and jump out of the train!GENTLEMAN(astonished). Jump out of the train? Madam, your strange conduct compels me to be serious! In a word, I have the honor to be a Government inspector of prisons!LADY. Eh? What? You—an inspector of prisons?GENTLEMAN. Yes, madam (taking off his cap and bowing toLADY).LADY(eagerly looking atGENTLEMAN’Sforehead). And—youhaven’tgot a scar on your forehead? Oh, sir! if you only knew how delighted I am that you haven’t got a scar on your forehead!GENTLEMAN(bewildered). A scar on my forehead? (feeling his forehead). But may I ask what has suggested to you all these notions about thieves and robbers?LADY. Why, you’ve been talking about nothing else for the last quarter of an hour!GENTLEMAN(smiling). I beg your pardon. You certainly first began the conversation about these—gentlemen.LADY. Because you said that you associated with them.GENTLEMAN. Naturally, as an inspector of prisons.LADY. Then those portraits—in your possession?GENTLEMAN. Were taken merely to forward the ends of justice!LADY(with a sigh of relief). I understand it all! I can laugh at my folly now, which entirely arose from this silly newspaper paragraph—the sole cause of all my absurd terror.GENTLEMAN. What newspaper paragraph?LADY. Read this, sir (giving him newspaper).GENTLEMAN(looking at paper, and then giving way to a loud laugh). Ha, ha, ha! Why, my dear madam, this is quite an old story! Our interesting friend, Mr. Burkshaw, happened to be shot in attempting his escape from Dartmoor more than twelve months ago! (Looking at date of newspaper.) Of course, this paper is a year old—December, 1884!LADY. So it is! Oh, sir! what must you think of me?GENTLEMAN(in a tender tone). May I tell you? That you are the most charming travelling companion— (Here noise of train stopping, engine, railway-whistle, etc., heard.)VOICE(outside). Paddington! Paddington! (LADYandGENTLEMANboth rise.)GENTLEMAN(gallantly). I am staying some time in London, madam. Will you permit me to call upon you, if only to remove from your mind any lingering doubt as to my perfect identity?LADY. With pleasure, sir! (Suddenly, and in a very gracioustone.) Oh, sir! howverygood of you to be a Government inspector of prisons! (holding out her hand toGENTLEMAN,who takes it and raises it to his lips).VOICE(again heard). Paddington! (TheGENTLEMANandLADYgather their packages and bow to each other as theCURTAINFALLS.)
A Railway Romance, in One Compartment.
(Adapted from the French.)
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
A LADY.
A GENTLEMAN.
A RAILWAYGUARD.
[The action is supposed to take place in a first-class railway-carriage, travelling on a certain line between a certain place and another certain place.]
SCENE.—A plain interior, supposed to represent a compartment in a first-class railway-carriage; door in flat atC.—the entrance—four easy-chairs placed two and two opposite the others, representing the seats—on the second chair atL.H. an open newspaper.
The actor playing the part of the gentleman enters at doorC. in light overcoat, with travelling-bag, hat-box, and railway-rug over his arm; he places the bag, hat-box, and rug on first chair,L.H., and advances, cap in hand, and, after sundry bows, proceeds to explain the scene to the audience.Ladies and gentlemen: The little piece we are about to present to you is supposed to take place in a first-class compartment of a railway-carriage, travelling express from—from—Plymouth to London; shall we say Plymouth to London?—very well—Plymouth to London. You will also be good enough to see in the humble individual who is now addressing you, a deputy-assistant-deputy-inspector of Government prisons, returning from an official visit to that well-known and, judging from the constant stream of applications for admission, highly popular convict establishment at—at—Dartmouth; shall we say Dartmouth?—be it so, we’ll say Dartmouth! Our first idea, in order to impart a greater reality to the situation, was to place before you a regular train with locomotive, etc., etc., all complete, and for this purpose we applied to a certain railway company for the loan of one; but the secretary, in reply, said that the only materials he could offer us were cattle-trucks and coal-wagons, all the passenger rolling-stock being in requisition, owing to the unusual number they had smashed up during the year. He certainly offered us the use of an engine, but at the same time candidly gave us to understand that it was a little bit rusty, and wouldn’t stand the slightest pressure; he further added that if the knob of the steam-whistleshouldhappen to knock out the front teeth of any of the audience, we were not to blamehimif we had a few compensation actions to sustain!—and so on! Altogether the alternative was so dismal that we decided on sacrificing a flaming line in our play-bill about “flashing express,” “real steam,” “genuine foot-warmers,” which we had composed for the occasion, and to fall back upon the best scene that our stage-carpenter and property-man could prepare for us.
We must, therefore, ask you to bring your imaginations to our aid, and to fancy you see in that door and in these four easy-chairs the interior of a first-class compartment of a railway-carriage, and to imagine further that I have passed the night in one of them, and am at the present moment still enjoying a profound sleep.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, permit me to enter into my part, to seat myself in the snuggest corner I can find, and to resume my interrupted nap! (makes a profound bow to audience, goes up stage, and seats himself on the first chair,L.H.; puts on his travelling-cap, wraps himself up in the railway-rug, after having placed on the second chair,L., his travelling-bag, a railway guide, and a paper-knife; he then yawns once or twice, then falls asleep, and after a time snores gently. Loud noise of train arriving, withsteam-engine, railway-bell, and whistle, as the train is supposed to arrive and gradually to stop).
GUARD(heard without). Reading! Change here for Guildford, Dorking, Reigate, Redhill!
VOICE(without). Guard, how long do we stop here?
GUARD(without). Ten minutes, sir! (Cries of “Reading; change here,” etc., etc., etc., repeated, and gradually diminishing, accompanied by noise of slamming doors, etc.)
GENTLEMAN(starting from his sleep). What’s that? Who speaks of stopping? I wonder what the time is? (Looks at watch.) Seven o’clock? (Opens door and looks out.) Broad daylight, I declare (closing door again); then I must have slept the best part of the night! I don’t even remember my travelling companion getting out; he seems to have forgotten his newspaper (taking up paper from chair). Not a very talkative fellow; in fact, he never opened his mouth, except to put something into it—principally Abernethys and peppermint-drops. By Jove, hisDaily Newsis full of crumbs and caraways now!—a regular pantry!
GUARD(again heard without). Reading! Ten minutes to stop!
GENTLEMAN. Ten minutes to stop? Then I may as well get out and stretch my legs a bit (rises, puts railway-rug, guide, and travelling-bag on his seat, and goes to doorC.; then calls). Guard, whereabouts is the refreshment-bar?
GUARD(without). This way, sir (GENTLEMANgoes out at doorC. towardsR.H.—short pause).
TheLADYlooks in atC. and stops; then enters with two small parcels and a bonnet-box.
LADY. Yes; all things considered, I decidedly prefer this carriage to the ladies’ compartment, where there’s only room for one, and then what should I do with my packages? Besides, ladies are not soremarkablyagreeable among themselves; while here— (looking about her). Let me see, which corner shall I take? I think this will do (indicating the seat which theGENTLEMANhasjust left); one’s face to the engine, and not so likely to be troubled by people getting in and out; yes, this will do very well indeed! (during this she removes theGENTLEMAN’Seffects from first chairL.H. to the opposite chair atR.) And after all, provided one has agentlemanfor a travelling companion, a host of these little difficulties soon disappear! (Seats herself on first chairL.H.). There! I shall do very nicely here—very nicely indeed! (Here theGENTLEMANappears outside at doorC.) Some one’s coming! one of the opposite sex! Ihopea gentleman. Suppose I pretend to be asleep? I will! I’ll shut my eyes, and then I shall be able to judge of his appearance! (wraps herself up so as to conceal her face, and pretends to be asleep).
GENTLEMAN(entering at door and stamping his feet). I feel all the better! Thanks to a glass of sherry and half a dozen rapid turns up and down the platform, the circulation is re-established; so now for another dose of pins and needles. Holloa! what’s this?—my seat taken, and all my things bundled away anyhow on another seat! Well, of all the cool proceedings— (To theLADY.) I beg pardon, madam, but— Asleep? Rather a sudden attack of drowsiness, considering she can’t have been here more than five minutes! However, she’s a lady—at least she looks like one, though sheissuch a cool hand, and I can’t be so ungallant as to turn her out, especially as she looks so snug and comfortable! I must take another corner! (He seats himself on second chair atL.H., partly turning his back to theLADY.)
LADY(aside and partly uncovering her face). I knew these little difficulties would soon arrange themselves! (wraps herself up as before).
GENTLEMAN(fidgeting about in his seat). I was much more comfortable in my own seat. There was a nice hollow for one’s back there; but here there’s a confounded lump that’s positively painful! I must confess I have found that women in general haven’t the slightest hesitation in taking advantage of one if they possibly can. Here’s an instance; just as I had got used to myseat, in comes one of the weaker sex and turns me out bag and baggage! They know their power, and abuse it: too bad! Now (looking aside atLADY) if my neighbor were but young—and pretty into the bargain—but no; catch a woman wrapping herself up like that when sheisyoung (gaping) and pretty! (His head nods once or twice, and he falls asleep.)
GUARD(without). Take your seats! Any more going on?
LADY(cautiously peeping atGENTLEMAN,then uncovering, and aside). So it seems I shall have no other travelling companion but this gentleman! (Here loud railway-whistle heard, and noise of train starting.) We’re off. (Looking atGENTLEMANagain.) I must say he appears to be perfectly harmless and inoffensive. (GENTLEMANsnores.) What did he say? (A louder snore fromGENTLEMAN). Well, if that’s a specimen of his conversation, it isn’t likely to compromise one! (Another snore.) I may as well go to sleep myself, and then, perhaps, I may be able to join in theconversationtoo! (Wraps herself up, but this time allows her face to remain uncovered; closes her eyes; pause.)
GENTLEMAN(suddenly waking and shifting his position). Decidedly, of all the uncomfortable seats this is the most uncomfortable. Ishouldlike to know what they stuff their cushions with; I feel as if I’d got a quartern loaf at my back! (Taking a rapid glance atLADY,then, in a savage tone.)Sheseems comfortable enough! How absurd—how ridiculous of me not to have demanded—not to have in-sis-ted. (Looking again atLADY.) By Jove, sheisyoung! and by no means bad-looking! Bad-looking! she’s pretty—verypretty—excessivelypretty! and to think I should have actually gone to sleep in her presence! One never knows what one does in one’s sleep; luckily, I never snore; that’s one comfort! (Takes off his travelling-cap, arranges his hair, cravat, etc.) How soundly she sleeps—if shedoessleep! (in doubt). When one isreallyasleep—I meanfastasleep—it isn’t usual to wear a smile on one’s face; on the contrary, one’s face generally gets ugly! I’ll be bound that just now I was positively hideous!(He coughs loudly, theLADYmoves.) She wakes! (Suddenly and loudly.) What a beautiful country! what a lovely green on those meadows! (LADYkeeps silence.) I’ll try again! (Still louder.) How unusually beautiful are the autumn tints, especially so early in the spring! (Pause; aside.) No response? She must have taken a sleeping draught!
LADY(pretending to wake). A thousand pardons, sir; did you speak?
GENTLEMAN. I was merely observing what a lovely meadow on those greens! I mean (another pause) I hear the harvest is likely to be a plentiful one, although I’m told that turnips are backward; I haven’t heard anything about carrots.
LADY(in an indifferent tone). I beg pardon; were you speaking to me? (Aside.) Some gentleman farmer, evidently.
GENTLEMAN(nettled, and imitating her—aside). “Were you speaking to me?” I rather think Iwasspeaking to her! Holloa! she’s off to sleep again! No one can callherparticularly wide-awake. Well, since she’s off into land of dreams again, I don’t see why I shouldn’t indulge in a cigarette (takes out some cigarette papers, tobacco pouch, spreads them on his knees and proceeds to make a cigarette; then stops). Stop, though! I can’t smoke without first asking her permission; of course not! (Aloud, and coughing.) Ahem! (Watching her.) Sound as a top! Try again! (Coughing louder.) Ahem! (TheLADYopens her eyes and moves impatiently—aside.) That did it!
GENTLEMAN(apologetically). My cough is rather troublesome, ma’am.
LADY. I find it so—very!
GENTLEMAN(aside). Well! that’s about the rudest thing I’ve heard for some time! (Aloud.) I was about to ask you whether you object to the smell of tobacco?
LADY. Oh, not at all, sir!
GENTLEMAN. Thank you! (proceeds to make his cigarette, and about to light it).
LADY. I mean, not till it’s lighted!
GENTLEMAN. Oh, I see; and then you do?
LADY. Very much, indeed!
GENTLEMAN. Even when you are asleep? (in an insinuating tone).
LADY(slowly and decisively). Whether I am awakeorasleep, sir!
GENTLEMAN(aside). Now that’s what I call selfish—just as if the smokecouldget up her nose when her eyes are shut! (putting away his smoking apparatus. Aside). I must say Ihavemet more agreeable young ladies—very muchmore agreeable—in fact, I may say I never remember meeting onelessagreeable. Well, I sha’n’t disturb the “Sleeping Beauty” again in a hurry. Now for another nap! (sulkily crams smoking apparatus into his pocket, draws his cap very much over his head, stands up, folds himself up in his rug, and then flounces down on his seat again, partially turning his back to theLADY).
LADY. (slowly turning her head and taking a glance atGENTLEMAN). Well, I must confess he put away his smoking apparatus with a very good grace! (Sees newspaper.) Some one has left a newspaper! (Taking newspaper and reading.) Um, um!Plymouth Gazette.“Foreign News,” “Paris Fashions,” “Early Strawberries.” What’s this? “Escape of a convict. We learn that Benjamin Burkshaw, a criminal of the most desperate character, effected his escape from Dartmoor prison yesterday. The following is his description: Age, not exactly known; eyes, nothing peculiar; wears a long black beard—has probably cut it off; walks slightly lame with one leg, uncertain which; supposed to have directed his steps towards London, or in some other direction.” Dear me! it is just possible he may be in this very train! (looking aside at theGENTLEMAN,then reading again). “Middle height” (looking again atGENTLEMAN); “inclined to be stout” (another look atGENTLEMAN); he’s so rolled up in his rug one can’t judge! (Reads again.) “Slightly bald, with a scar on leftside of forehead” (here theGENTLEMANin his sleep hastily pulls his travelling-cap over his forehead; theLADYgives a sudden start, and recoils as far as possible from theGENTLEMAN). How very suddenly he pulled his cap over his forehead—and the left side of it too! Pshaw! how foolish, how absurd of me! (Reads paper again, and then closes her eyes once more.)
GENTLEMAN(rousing himself). It’s no use! I can’t get a wink of sleep, except by fits and starts—principally starts! (Looking atLADY.) Still asleep! and no book to read except this “Illustrated Guide through England and Wales.” However, that’s better than “Bradshaw.” (During above he has taken a book out of his bag, and cuts the leaves with a paper-knife; turns over leaves.) What’s this? (Reads.) “Maidenhead. It was in the neighborhood of this picturesque town that the famous Dick Turpin—” (Here theLADYandGENTLEMANare suddenly thrown forward.)
LADY(alarmed). What a shock! Has anything happened?
GENTLEMAN(indifferently). Nothing of consequence! merely the train passing over something—or somebody!
LADY(aside). Rather an unfeeling remark! (Aloud.) Can you tell me where we are, sir? I am quite a stranger to this line.
GENTLEMAN. Weshouldbe near Slough. You may not be aware, madam, that it was here that—(taking a peep aside at his book)—“that the famous Dick Turpin”—you’ve heard of Dick Turpin, of course—the celebrated highwayman? (LADYshakes her head). Well, it was here that he was in the habit of spending his leisure hours—I mean when he’d nothing better to do—in—in (taking another peep at book)—“in planting potatoes!”—Poor Dick! my great-grandfather saw him hanged!
LADY(shocked). Hanged?
GENTLEMAN. Yes—I forget exactly what for—something about putting an old lady on the kitchen fire!
LADY(indignantly). Surely, never was a fate more richly deserved!
GENTLEMAN. On the contrary, she was quite a respectable sort of old body!
LADY(aloud, and in a satirical tone). Thanks, sir, for your kind andinterestinginformation!
GENTLEMAN(modestly). Don’t mention it, I beg!
LADY(aside). A newspaper correspondent, perhaps! I prefer that to a farmer!
GENTLEMAN(after a short pause). I find the sun rather too warm on this side of the carriage, madam—will it inconvenience you if I take this seat? (indicating first chair atR.).
LADY. Not in the least! Indeed, I should have the less right to object, as I am afraid I have appropriatedyours;and by far the more comfortable one, I suspect!
GENTLEMAN. You simply foresaw that I should offer it to you, madam!
LADY. Oh, sir! (bowing).
GENTLEMAN. Oh, madam! (bowing; he removes things from where theLADYhad placed them, and seats himself opposite to her).
LADY(aside). Really a very pleasant, agreeable fellow!
GENTLEMAN(aside). Her full face is even better than her profile! (Aloud, and in a sentimental tone.) Ah, madam! would it were in my power to prolong this pleasant journey—this delightfultête-à-tête!
LADY(with dignity). Sir!
GENTLEMAN(aside). That’s no go! (Aloud.) I mean, madam, that one seems to traveltoofast nowadays! (LADYexpresses surprise.) In fact, we’realltoo fast!
LADY(severely). Sir!
GENTLEMAN(aside).That’sno go! (Aloud.) We’ve only to contrast the present with the time when the wife of one of our ancient kings traversed the whole of England by easy stages of five miles a day!
LADY. Of whom do you speak?
GENTLEMAN. Of—of— (Aside.) Hang me if I know! (Aloud.)Of Tabitha—I mean Elgitha, the wife of—Edmund—Sobersides—I should say Ironsides! But without going quite so far back, madam, I confess I often regret the days of those heavy old stage-coaches called “High-flyers,” “Eclipses,” and “Rockets.”
LADY(smiling). Because they went so slowly?
GENTLEMAN. Precisely. Still, it had its advantages—it gave one an opportunity to make the acquaintance of one’s travelling companions—to establish a friendly feeling—perhaps one of a moretendernature! (with a tender look at theLADY).
LADY(with a stare of astonishment). Sir!
GENTLEMAN(aside). It’s no use. I won’t try any more! (Aloud, and in a more colloquial tone.) Besides, in a stage-coach there was always the chance of one of those little adventures that so often happened on the road!
LADY. You mean attacks by highwaymen, such as yourfriendMr.—Turpin—who had a weakness for putting respectable old ladies on the kitchen fire? (smiling satirically—then, changing her tone). I remember myself a certain event which happened some five or six years ago when we were travelling.
GENTLEMAN.We?You and your pa and ma, probably?
LADY. My husband and I!
GENTLEMAN. Husband? you are married, ma’am! actually, positively married?
LADY. Alas, sir! (sighing).
GENTLEMAN(aside). I see! an unhappy union!—an ill-assorted match—poor soul! (Aloud.) Ah, madam, you are not the only one of your too confiding sex who have found marriage a bed of roses—I mean, of nettles, instead of one of nettles—I mean roses!
LADY. But, sir—you mistake—alas, sir, I am a widow!
GENTLEMAN. A widow? I’m delighted to hear it! No, I’m not! of course not! I deeply sympathize with you—as I always do with widows—I know what it is myself. But you mustn’t give way—you’ll get used to it in time—like the eels—no, notlike the eels—but you were about to mention some adventure which happened to you while travelling with—the late lamented. (Noise heard of train gradually stopping—engine, railway-bell, whistle, etc.)
VOICE(outside, gradually approaching). “Slough! Slough! change for Windsor; all tickets ready.”
GENTLEMAN(angrily). All tickets ready! these railway companies are perfectly absurd, with their mania for examining tickets! (feeling in his pocket).
LADY(smiling). Another advantage of the good old coaching days!
GENTLEMAN. Yes, quite so! (feeling again in his pockets, one after the other). Ah! here it is—no, it isn’t—how very odd; now I’ve got it—no, I haven’t! (diving in his pockets again).
LADY. I’m afraid you’ve lost your ticket, sir.
GENTLEMAN. Oh no! I haven’tlostit—only I can’t find it!
LADY. You may have dropped it? (looking about on floor).
GENTLEMAN. Pray don’t trouble yourself; I shall be sure to find it—(aside) as soon as I’ve paid for another! (Aloud.) I’ll just speak to the station-master. Excuse me a moment? (LADYbows,GENTLEMANexit atC., and disappears towardsL.H.)
LADY. Poor fellow! no wonder he dislikes railways if he’s in the habit of losing his ticket every time he travels!
GUARDappears at doorC.
GUARD(toLADY). Ticket, please, ma’am? (Takes ticket, and returns it toLADY.) Thank you, ma’am. (Seeing theGENTLEMAN’Sbag, etc., on seat.) These things belong to you, ma’am?
LADY. Oh no!
GUARD. Has any one left this carriage?
LADY. Yes! a gentleman—not a minute ago.
GUARD(sulkily). How can I examine people’s tickets when they get out at every station?
LADY. He fancies he has lost his ticket.
GUARD(suspiciously). Lost his ticket?—what a pity! (Aside.) That’s an old dodge! (Aloud.) Is the gentleman one of your party, ma’am?
LADY. Oh dear no! only so far as we are journeying in the same compartment.
GUARD(examining theGENTLEMAN’Sbag). No name on his travelling-bag—that’s queer! We’re expected to keep both eyes open on this line, ma’am—only yesterday we nabbed a desperate bank forger at this very station; and we’re on the lookout for an escaped convict to-day!
LADY(aside). An escaped convict? that dreadful Mr. Burkshaw, no doubt? Not a very cheerful subject of conversation—I’m really getting quite nervous! (collecting her packages and rising).
GUARD. Going to get out, ma’am?
LADY. Yes, I should prefer the ladies’ compartment.
GUARD. No room there, ma’am; eight of ’em already, besides babies!
LADY. I may get into another carriage, I presume?
GUARD. Certainly, ma’am. Good-day, ma’am (goes out at door).
LADY. Stop! stop! Help me out! Guard! guard! (calling).
GUARD(outside). Can’t stop now, ma’am. Train just going on.
LADY. This is really too bad! Can’t even change carriages on this line, which seems to be especially patronized by the criminal classes! But pshaw! I’m alarming myself unnecessarily. Is it likely that this gentleman—and heisa gentleman—who seems to be on intimate terms with the wife of Edmund Ironsides—can possibly have any connection with— How absurd of me! I really ought to be ashamed of myself. (Seeing the paper-knife which theGENTLEMANhas left on seat.) What a strange-looking paper-knife—quite a formidable weapon!Isit a paper-knife? it looks more like a stiletto! (Taking up paper-knife very carefully between her finger and thumb, and then quickly dropping it again). Such an instrument as that was never made to cutleaves!It looks much adapted to— (Shuddering.) How ridiculous of me!My silly fears are running away with me again. Ha, ha, ha! (forcing a laugh).
GUARD(without). Take your seats!
GENTLEMANhurries in atC. TheLADYsuddenly stops laughing, and gets as far as she can into her corner.
GENTLEMAN. I’ve found my ticket! I knew I should the moment I bought another. (Takes his seat. To theLADY). Where do you suppose it was?—you’ll never guess. In my purse, where I always put my tickets! Ha, ha, ha!
LADY(aside). Hehada ticket, then?
GENTLEMAN. It is very kind of you to interest yourself in the misfortunes of a stranger (bowing).
LADY. Is it not natural?
GENTLEMAN. It seems to be so toyou,madam (bowing again and moving a little towardsLADY,who retreats).
LADY(aside). If I could only induce him to remove his travelling-cap—not that I should discover the slightest scar onhisforehead—I should then be completely reassured. (Suddenly.) Pardon me—is not that a friend of yours bowing to you on the other platform? (indicating the audience).
GENTLEMAN. Bowing to me? where? (putting his hand to his cap).
LADY(pointing). There! (Aside.) Now for it!
GENTLEMAN(lowering his hand again without removing his cap). No, ma’am, I don’t know him; besides, he’s not bowing to me.
LADY(aside). That’s a failure!
GENTLEMAN. Holloa! Somebody’s been moving my things!
LADY. Yes, the guard!—he seemed curious—I might sayanxious—to ascertain if your name was on your travelling-bag!
GENTLEMAN. Very inquisitive of him! Why should I make my name public property?—there may be reasons why I shouldnot!—pressing reasons! You can understand that, madam?
LADY. Y—es! I’m afraid I can—I mean, of course I can!
GENTLEMAN. But, as I was saying, the interest you have so kindly taken in me—a perfect stranger—
LADY(very quickly). Not at all, sir; on the contrary! No—that is—
GENTLEMAN. Permit me to continue. That interest, I repeat, comes naturally toyou,blessed, as I’m sure you are, with so sweet, so gentle, so affectionate a disposition.
LADY(very quickly). Quite the reverse, I assure you, sir—I’ve a dreadful temper!
GENTLEMAN. Again: that charming hand is not less characteristic; it requires but one glance at those delicately tapered fingers— (About to take her hand;LADYhastily withdraws it.)
LADY(aside). I do believe the man’s going to make love to me!
GENTLEMAN. But stay: I see one line here that is singularly prominent; permit me (takingLADY’Shand).
LADY(aside). I’m quite at his mercy! Not the slightest use my screaming!
GENTLEMAN(looking at her hand). Yes, a very sudden intersection, threatening, I fear, some personal danger.
LADY(alarmed). Yes, very likely! (Aside.) How intently he fixes his eyes on my diamond ring!
GENTLEMAN. But were you not saying that you had once been exposed to some peril in travelling?
LADY. Yes; but I was notalonethen.
GENTLEMAN. The “late lamented,” I presume?
LADY. Yes; we were attacked by robbers in crossing the Pyrenees! (Very quickly.) Not that I particularly object to robbers! In fact, I rather like them! (Aside.) I may as well try what a little flattery will do.
GENTLEMAN(still holding her hand). You have a remarkably fine diamond here, madam!
LADY. Yes, a very goodimitation,isn’t it?
GENTLEMAN. Excuse me. I cannot mistake a diamond—no, no; I’ve had too many pass through my hands to do that!
LADY(aside). I’m afraid he has!
GENTLEMAN. And yet there’s a flaw in it—if you’ll allow me, I’ll point it out to you. (Looking about, then suddenly taking up the paper-knife; theLADYscreams.) I’m afraid I alarmed you!
LADY(trying to be calm). Oh dear no! and if you’ve quite done examining my hand—
GENTLEMAN. Quite, madam! (releasing her hand).
LADY. And you detect no further threatening of—personal danger?
GENTLEMAN. None whatever!
LADY. Then you are a believer in spiritualism and phrenology, and all that sort of thing?
GENTLEMAN. Certainly I am! May I ask, madam, if you have ever examined the head of a criminal?
LADY(shocked). Never, sir!
GENTLEMAN. Perhaps you have never even been brought into personal contact with one?
LADY. Certainly not, sir; though I’m sure I should feel the greatest pity for him—I should, indeed! (in a commiserating tone).
GENTLEMAN. Understand me; I don’t allude to themilderclass of criminals, such as thieves, robbers, forgers, burglars, and such like; but one of those desperate fellows who—who—in fact, whostick at nothing!By-the-bye, I have a collection here of photographs of some of our most notorious criminals, which I think would interest you.
LADY(shuddering). Yes—intensely!
GENTLEMAN(opening his travelling-bag). Ah! (producing a revolver) there’s rather a curious story connected with this revolver!
LADY(alarmed, and trying to look unconcerned). Indeed?
GENTLEMAN. I never travel without one—every chamberloaded and ready for use, so that I have six lives at my disposal—a very comfortable feeling to have! Don’t you think so?
LADY. Yes, very much so, indeed!
GENTLEMAN. Here are the photographs (producing packet); here is one of them (about to show a portrait). No, I make a mistake; this is one of myself.
LADY(aghast). Yours?
GENTLEMAN(smiling). Yes! this is the one! (presenting a second portrait). You’ll observe a remarkable protuberance of this part of the skull (pointing to it); that’s the organ of destructiveness. I have it myself, only notquiteso strongly developed! (touching his head); don’t you perceive it?
LADY. Yes—I—see! But I confess I cannot understand howyouhappen to be in possession of theseremarkably interesting—works of art?
GENTLEMAN(smiling). A very simple matter—my occupation necessitates my associating with this particular class of “her Majesty’s subjects”—as I happen to be—
LADY(quickly). Hush! I know! You need not tell me!
GENTLEMAN(anxiously). What is the matter? You are positively trembling—with cold, no doubt! Allow me to wrap this rug round you.
LADY. No, no!
GENTLEMAN. Nay, I insist! (placing his rug roundLADY’Sfeet).
LADY. But you will feel the want of it yourself, especially as it seems you have passed the night in the train!
GENTLEMAN. Exactly! Six hours ago I was in Dartmoor Prison!
LADY. Dartmoor! (Aside.) He confesses it!
GENTLEMAN(smiling). Not a very attractive residence. I would gladly have left it before, but, unfortunately, I was detained!
LADY. Detained!
GENTLEMAN(smiling). I may saychainedto it—by my confounded profession!
LADY(aside). He calls it aprofession!
GENTLEMAN. There’s no saying how long the Home Secretary might have kept me there; but I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I managed to make my escape, and now I’m free once more!
LADY(suddenly starting up with a scream). Stop, sir! Don’t say any more! Have pity on me, for mercy’s sake! (falling on her knees and clasping her hands).
GENTLEMAN(astounded). My dear madam—
LADY(hysterically). I know who you are; I know all about the scar on your forehead! But I won’t betray you—I won’t, indeed! Here, take my purse!—take my watch! (thrusting the articles into theGENTLEMAN’Shands)—allI have, good Mr. Burkshaw!—but spare my life!
GENTLEMAN. Your life? Mr. Burkshaw? What—what do you mean?
LADY. Mercy! mercy!
GENTLEMAN(seriously). My dear madam! Pray compose yourself! You have evidently fallen into some strange error; in a word, I happen to be—
LADY. Yes, yes! I know who you happen to be! Take my advice and jump out of the train!
GENTLEMAN(astonished). Jump out of the train? Madam, your strange conduct compels me to be serious! In a word, I have the honor to be a Government inspector of prisons!
LADY. Eh? What? You—an inspector of prisons?
GENTLEMAN. Yes, madam (taking off his cap and bowing toLADY).
LADY(eagerly looking atGENTLEMAN’Sforehead). And—youhaven’tgot a scar on your forehead? Oh, sir! if you only knew how delighted I am that you haven’t got a scar on your forehead!
GENTLEMAN(bewildered). A scar on my forehead? (feeling his forehead). But may I ask what has suggested to you all these notions about thieves and robbers?
LADY. Why, you’ve been talking about nothing else for the last quarter of an hour!
GENTLEMAN(smiling). I beg your pardon. You certainly first began the conversation about these—gentlemen.
LADY. Because you said that you associated with them.
GENTLEMAN. Naturally, as an inspector of prisons.
LADY. Then those portraits—in your possession?
GENTLEMAN. Were taken merely to forward the ends of justice!
LADY(with a sigh of relief). I understand it all! I can laugh at my folly now, which entirely arose from this silly newspaper paragraph—the sole cause of all my absurd terror.
GENTLEMAN. What newspaper paragraph?
LADY. Read this, sir (giving him newspaper).
GENTLEMAN(looking at paper, and then giving way to a loud laugh). Ha, ha, ha! Why, my dear madam, this is quite an old story! Our interesting friend, Mr. Burkshaw, happened to be shot in attempting his escape from Dartmoor more than twelve months ago! (Looking at date of newspaper.) Of course, this paper is a year old—December, 1884!
LADY. So it is! Oh, sir! what must you think of me?
GENTLEMAN(in a tender tone). May I tell you? That you are the most charming travelling companion— (Here noise of train stopping, engine, railway-whistle, etc., heard.)
VOICE(outside). Paddington! Paddington! (LADYandGENTLEMANboth rise.)
GENTLEMAN(gallantly). I am staying some time in London, madam. Will you permit me to call upon you, if only to remove from your mind any lingering doubt as to my perfect identity?
LADY. With pleasure, sir! (Suddenly, and in a very gracioustone.) Oh, sir! howverygood of you to be a Government inspector of prisons! (holding out her hand toGENTLEMAN,who takes it and raises it to his lips).
VOICE(again heard). Paddington! (TheGENTLEMANandLADYgather their packages and bow to each other as theCURTAINFALLS.)