Dick.
What makes you think that?
Doctor.
Well, you see, I know him pretty well. He's been a pal of yours for twenty years in England, but I've been with him out here three times, and I tell you there's not much about a man that you don't know then.
Dick.
Well?
Doctor.
Well, when things are going smoothly and everything's flourishing, he's apt to be a bit irritable. He keeps rather to himself, and he doesn't say much unless you do something he doesn't approve of.
Dick.
And then, by Jove, he comes down on one like a thousand of bricks. It's not for nothing the natives call him Thunder and Lightning.
Doctor.
But when things begin to look black, his spirits go up like one o'clock. And the worse they are, the more cheerful he is.
Dick.
It's one of his most irritating characteristics.
Doctor.
When every one is starving with hunger, and dead tired, and soaked to the skin, Mackenzie fairly bubbles over with good-humour.
Dick.
When I'm in a bad temper, I much prefer every one else to be in a bad temper too.
Doctor.
These last few days, he's been positively hilarious. Yesterday he was cracking jokes with the natives.
Dick.
[Dryly.] Scotch jokes. I daresay they sound funny in an African dialect.
Doctor.
I've never seen him more cheerful. I said to myself: By the Lord Harry, the chief thinks we're in a devil of a bad way.
Dick.
Thank Heaven, it's all over now. We've none of us had any sleep for three days, and when I once get off, I don't mean to wake up for a week.
Doctor.
I must go and see the rest of my patients. Perkins has got a bad dose of fever this time. He was quite delirious a while ago.
Dick.
By Jove, I'd almost forgotten. How one changes out here! Here am I feeling happy and comfortable and inclined to make a little jest or two, and I've forgotten already that poor Richardson is dead and Lord knows how many natives.
Doctor.
Poor chap, we could ill spare him. The fates never choose the right man.
Dick.
What do you mean by that?
Doctor.
If we had to lose some one, it would have been a damned sight better if that young cub had got the bullet which killed poor Richardson.
Dick.
George Allerton?
Doctor.
He wouldn't have been much loss, would he?
Dick.
No, I'm afraid he wouldn't.
Doctor.
Mackenzie has been very patient with him. I wonder he didn't send him back to the coast months ago, when he sacked Macinnery.
Dick.
Poor George, everything has been against him.
Doctor.
Some men have got natures so crooked that with every chance in the world to go straight they can't manage it. The only thing is to let them go to the devil as best they may.
Dick.
Alec was bound to give him another chance. [Alec Mackenziecomes in.] Hulloa, Alec! Where have you been?
Alec.
I've been going the round of the outlying sentries.
Dick.
All serene?
Alec.
Yes. I've just seen a native messenger that Mindabi sent to me.
Doctor.
Anything important?
Alec.
[Curtly.] Yes. How's the arm, Dick?
Dick.
Oh, that's nothing. It's only a scratch.
Alec.
You'd better not make too light of it. The smallest wound has a way of being troublesome in this country.
Doctor.
He'll be all right in a day or two.
Alec.
How are the others?
Doctor.
They're going on pretty well on the whole. Perkins, of course, will be down for some days longer. And some of the natives are rather badly hurt. Those devils have got explosive bullets.
Alec.
Any one in great danger?
Doctor.
No, I don't think so. There are two men who are in rather a bad way, but all they want is rest.
Alec.
I see.
Dick.
I say, have you had anything to eat lately?
Alec.
[With a laugh.] Good Lord! I quite forgot. I wonder when the dickens I had some food last.
Dick.
[Smiling.] You've had nothing to-day, have you?
Alec.
No, I don't think so. Those Arabs kept us so confoundedly busy.
Dick.
You must be devilish hungry.
Alec.
Now you mention it, I think I am. And thirsty, by Jove! I wouldn't give my thirst for an elephant tusk.
Dick.
And to think there's nothing but tepid water to drink!
Doctor.
I'll go and tell the boy to bring you some food. It's a rotten game to play tricks with your digestion like that.
Alec.
[Gaily.] Stern man, the doctor, isn't he? It won't hurt me once in a way. And I shall enjoy it all the more now.
Doctor.
[Calling.] Selim!
Alec.
No, don't trouble. The poor chap's just turned in, dropping with sleep. I told him he might till I called him. I don't want much, and I can easily get it myself. [He goes to a case and takes out a tin of meat and some ship's biscuits.] It's rather a nuisance that we've not been able to get any game lately.
[He sets the food down before him, sits down,and begins to eat.
Dick.
[Ironically.] Appetising, isn't it?
Alec.
Splendid!
Dick.
You have all the instincts of the primeval savage, Alec. It enrages and disgusts me.
Alec.
[With a laugh.] Why?
Dick.
You take food for the gross and bestial purpose of appeasing your hunger. You have no appreciation for the delicacies of eating as a fine art.
Alec.
The meat's getting rather mouldy, isn't it?
Dick.
Damnable! It's been a source of great anxiety to me in England.
Alec.
What is he talking about now?
Dick.
I was going on with the thread of my observations, which you interrupted with the entirely obvious remark that the tinned meat was getting mouldy.
Alec.
I apologise profusely. Pray go on!
Dick.
I was about to observe that even in England you will eat the most carefully ordered meal with an indifference which is an outrage to decency. Indeed, you pay less attention to it than here, because at all events you do notice that the meat is mouldy. But if any one gives you a good dinner, you notice nothing. I've given him priceless port, Doctor, and he drank it as though it were cooking sherry.
Doctor.
I confess it is lamentable. But why is it a source of anxiety to you?
Dick.
What on earth is to happen to him in his old age?
Alec.
Explain yourself, my friend. Clearly but with as much brevity as possible.
Dick.
The pleasure of eating is the only pleasure that remains to the old. Love—what is love when you lose your figure, and your hair grows thin? Knowledge—one can never know everything, and the desire passes with the fire of youth. Even ambition fails you in the end. But to those who have lived wisely and well, there remain three pleasures every day of their lives: their breakfast, their luncheon, and their dinner.
Alec.
[With a laugh.] I wouldn't worry about my old age if I were you, Dick.
Dick.
Why?
Alec.
Because I think it's ten to one that we shall all be dead to-morrow morning.
Doctor.
What?
[There is a slight pause while both men stareat him.
Dick.
Is this one of your little jokes, Alec?
Alec.
You have often observed that I joke with difficulty.
Doctor.
But what's wrong now?
Alec.
You'll neither of you sleep in your beds to-night. Another sell for the mosquitoes, isn't it? I propose to break up the camp and start marching as soon as the moon goes down.
Dick.
I say, it's a bit thick after a day like this. We're all so done up that we shan't be able to go a mile.
Alec.
Nonsense, you will have had two hours' rest.
Doctor.
But some of those fellows who are wounded can't possibly be moved.
Alec.
They must!
Doctor.
I won't answer for their lives.
Alec.
We must take the risk. Our only chance is to make a bold dash for it, and we can't leave the wounded here.
Dick.
I suppose there's going to be a deuce of a row?
Alec.
[Grimly.] There is.
Dick.
Your companions seldom have a chance to complain of the monotony of their existence, Alec. What are you going to do now?
Alec.
At this moment, I'm going to fill my pipe.
[There is a pause whileAlecfills and lightshis pipe.
Dick.
I gather from the general amiability of your demeanour that we're in a rather tight place?
Alec.
Tighter than any of your patent-leather boots, my friend.
Dick.
[Gravely.] Have we any chance of getting through, old man?
Alec.
[Lightly.] Oh, I don't know. There's always a chance.
Dick.
Don't grin at me in that irritating fashion.
Alec.
You must wish you were treading the light fantastic toe in a London ball-room, Dick.
Dick.
Frankly I do.... I suppose we're going to fight again?
Alec.
Like Kilkenny cats.
Dick.
[Briskly.] Well, at all events that's some comfort. If I am going to be done out of my night's rest, I should like to take it out of some one.
Alec.
If things turn out all right, we shall have come near finishing the job, and there won't be much more slave-raiding in this part of Africa.
Dick.
And if things don't turn out all right?
Alec.
Why, then I'm afraid the tea-tables of Mayfair will be deprived of your scintillating repartee forever.
Dick.
Well, I've had a very good time in my life. I've loved a little, I've looked at some good pictures, read some thundering fine books, and I've worked and played. If I can only account for a few more of those damned scoundrels before I die, I shouldn't think I had much to complain of.
Alec.
[Smiling.] You're a philosopher, Dick.
Dick.
Doesn't the possibility of an extremely unpleasant demise tempt you to a few appropriate reflections?
Alec.
I don't know that it does. I'm a bit of a fatalist, and my theory is that when my time comes nothing can help me, but at the bottom of my heart I can't resist the conviction that I shan't die till I let myself.
Doctor.
Well, I must go and put things in order. I'll bandage those fellows up, and I hope they'll stand the jolting.
Alec.
What about Perkins?
Doctor.
Lord knows! I'll try and keep him quiet with chloral.
Alec.
You needn't say anything about striking camp. I don't propose that any one should know till a quarter of an hour before we start.
Doctor.
But that won't give them time.
Alec.
It must. I've trained them often enough to get on the march quickly.
Doctor.
Very well.
[George Allertoncomes in as theDoctorison the point of going.
George.
Can I come in?
Alec.
Yes ... Doctor!
Doctor.
Hulloa!
Alec.
You might stay a minute, will you?
Doctor.
[Coming back.] Certainly.
Alec.
Didn't Selim tell you that I wanted to speak to you?
George.
That's why I've come.
Alec.
You've taken your time about it.
George.
I say, could you give me a drink of brandy? I'm awfully done up.
Alec.
[Shortly.] There's no brandy left.
George.
Hasn't the doctor got some?
Alec.
No!
[There is a pause.Aleclooks at him slowly.
George.
Why are you all looking at me like that? You look as if you were going to try me for something.
Dick.
Nonsense! Don't be so nervous.
Alec.
[Abruptly.] Do you know anything about the death of that Turkana woman?
George.
No! How should I?
Alec.
Come now, you must know something about it. Last Tuesday you came into camp and told me the Turkana were very excited.
George.
[Unwillingly.] Oh, yes! I remember something about it. It had slipped my memory.
Alec.
Well?
George.
I'm not very clear about it. The woman had been shot, hadn't she? One of our station boys had been playing the fool with her, and he seems to have shot her.
Alec.
Have you made no inquiries as to who the man was?
George.
[In a surly way.] I haven't had time. We've all been worked off our legs during these three days.
Alec.
Do you suspect no one?
George.
I don't think so.
Alec.
Think a moment.
George.
The only man who might have done it is that big scoundrel whom we got on the coast, the Swahili.
Alec.
What makes you think that?
George.
He's been making an awful nuisance of himself, and I know he was running after her.
Alec.
I understand she complained about him to you?
George.
Yes.
Alec.
Do you think that would be enough evidence to punish him on?
George.
He's a thorough blackguard, and after all, if one does make a mistake, he's only a nigger.
Alec.
You'll be surprised to hear that when the woman was found she wasn't dead.
[Georgegives a movement of consternation.
Alec.
She didn't die for nearly an hour.
George.
[After a short pause.] Was she able to say anything?
Alec.
She accused you of having shot her.
George.
Me?
Alec.
It appears thatyouwere playing the fool with her, and when she got angry you took out a revolver and fired point blank. Presumably that she should tell no tales.
George.
It's a stupid lie. You know what they are. It's just like them to tell an absurd lie like that. You wouldn't believe a parcel of niggers rather than me, would you? After all, my word's worth more than theirs.
Alec.
[Taking from his pocket an exploded cartridge.] This was found about two yards from the body. As you see, it's a revolver cartridge. It was brought to me this evening.
George.
I don't know what that proves.
Alec.
You know just as well as I do that none of our natives has a revolver. Besides ourselves only two or three of the servants have them.
[Georgebecomes white with fear, he takes outhis handkerchief and wipes his face.
Alec.
[Quietly.] Will you give me your revolver?
George.
I haven't got it. I lost it in the skirmish this afternoon. I didn't tell you as I thought you'd be annoyed.
Alec.
I saw you cleaning it less than an hour ago.
George.
[With a shrug of the shoulders.] Perhaps it's in my tent, I'll go and see.
Alec.
[Sharply.] Stop here.
George.
[Angrily.] You've no right to talk to me like that. I'm sick to death of being ordered about. You seem to think I'm a dog. I came out here of my own free will, and I won't let you treat me as if I were a servant.
Alec.
If you put your hand to your hip pocket, I think you'll find your revolver there.
George.
I'm not going to give it to you.
Alec.
[Quietly.] D'you want me to come and take it from you myself?
[The two men stare at one another for a moment.ThenGeorgeslowly puts his hand to hispocket. He lakes out the revolver andsuddenly aims atAlec.Dickbeats uphis arm as he fires, and theDoctor,springing forward, seizes him round thewaist.Alecremains still.
Dick.
[During the struggle.] You young blackguard!
George.
Let me go, damn you!
Alec.
You need not hold him.
[They leave go ofGeorge,who sinks coweringinto a chair.Dickhands the revolver toAlec.He silently fits into a chamber thecartridge that had been brought to him.
Alec.
You see that it fits. Hadn't you better make a clean breast of it?
George.
[Cowed.] Yes, I shot her. She made a row, and the devil got into me. I didn't know I'd done anything till she screamed and I saw the blood.... What a fool I was to throw the cartridge away! I wanted to have all the chambers charged.
Alec.
Do you remember that two months ago I hanged a man to the nearest tree because he'd outraged a native woman?
George.
[Springing up in terror.] You wouldn't do that to me, Alec. Oh, God, no, Alec, have mercy on me. You wouldn't hang me. Oh, why did I ever come to this damned place?
Alec.
You need not be afraid. I'm not going to do that. In any case I must preserve the native respect for the white man.
George.
I was half drunk when I saw that woman. I wasn't responsible for my actions.
Alec.
The result is that the whole tribe has turned against us. The chief is my friend, and he sent a message to tell me he couldn't hold them in. It's from him I got the cartridge. It wouldn't be so serious, only the best fighting part of our forces are the Turkana, and we must expect treachery. They've stirred up the neighbouring tribes against us, and all the work we've been doing for a year is undone. That's the explanation of the Arabs' attack three days ago.
George.
[Sullenly.] I knew it was all my fault.
Alec.
The natives have made up their minds to join the slave-traders, and we shall be attacked on all sides to-morrow. We can't hold out against God knows how many thousands.
George.
D'you mean you'll all be killed?
Alec.
If we remain here there's no escape.
George.
[In a whisper.] What are you going to do to me, Alec?
[Alecwalks up and down the tent.
Alec.
[Presently.] I think you might go and see your patients now, doctor.
Doctor.
Very well.
Dick.
Shall I go too, Alec?
Alec.
No, you can stay here. But don't open your mouth till you're spoken to.
[The Doctorgoes out.
George.
I'm sorry I did that silly thing just now. I'm glad I didn't hit you.
Alec.
It doesn't matter at all. I'd forgotten all about it.
George.
I lost my head, I didn't know what I was doing.
Alec.
You need not trouble about that. In Africa even the strongest people are apt to get excited and lose their balance.
[Alecre-lights his pipe, and there its a very short pause.
Alec.
Did you ever know that before we came away I asked Lucy to marry me?
George.
I knew you cared for her.
Alec.
She asked me to bring you here in the hope that you would regain the good name of your family. I think that is the object she has most at heart in the world. It's as great as her love for you. The plan hasn't been much of a success, has it?
George.
She ought to have known that I wasn't suited for this kind of life.
Alec.
I saw very soon that you were weak and irresolute. But I hoped to make something of you. Your intentions seemed good enough, but you never had the strength to carry them out.... I'm sorry if I seem to be preaching to you.
George.
[Bitterly.] Oh, d'you think I care what any one says to me now?
Alec.
[Gravely, but not unkindly.] Then I found you were drinking. I told you that no man could stand liquor in this country, and you gave me your word of honour that you wouldn't touch it again.
George.
Yes, I broke it. I couldn't help it; the temptation was too strong.
Alec.
When we came to the station at Muneas you and Macinnery got blind drunk, and the whole camp saw you. I ought to have sent you back to the coast then, but it would have broken Lucy's heart.
George.
It was Macinnery's fault.
Alec.
It's because I thought he was to blame that I sent him back alone. I wanted to give you another chance. It struck me that the feeling of authority might have some influence on you, and so when we came to the lake I left you to guard the ferry. I put the chief part of the stores in your care and marched on. I needn't remind you what happened then.
[Georgelooks down sulkily, and in default of excuses keeps silent.
Alec.
I came to the conclusion that it was hopeless. You seemed to me rotten through and through.
George.
[With a little laugh.] Like my father before me.
Alec.
I couldn't believe a word you said. You did everything you shouldn't have done. The result was that the men mutinied, and if I hadn't come back in the nick of time they'd have killed you and looted all the stores.
George.
You always blame me for everything. A man's not responsible for what he does when he's down with fever.
Alec.
It was too late to send you back to the coast then, and I was obliged to take you on. And now the end has come. Your murder of that woman has put us all in deadly peril. Already to your charge lie the deaths of Richardson and almost twenty natives. Tribes that were friendly have joined with the Arabs, and we're as near destruction as we can possibly be.
George.
What are you going to do?
Alec.
We're far away from the coast, and I must take the law into my own hands.
George.
[With a gasp.] You're not going to kill me?
Alec.
Are you fond of Lucy?
George.
[Brokenly.] You—you know I am. Why d'you remind me of her now? I've made a rotten mess of everything, and I'm better out of the way. But think of the disgrace of it. It'll kill Lucy.... And she was hoping I'd do so much.
Alec.
Listen to me. Our only chance of escaping from the confounded fix we're in is to make a sudden attack on the Arabs before the natives join them. We shall be enormously outnumbered, but we may just smash them if we can strike to-night. My plan is to start marching as if I didn't know that the Turkana were going to turn against us. After an hour all the whites but one, and the Swahilis whom I can trust implicitly, will take a short cut. The Arabs will have had news of our starting, and they'll try to cut us off at the pass. I shall fall on them just as they begin to attack. D'you understand?
George.
Yes.
Alec.
Now I must have one white man to head the Turkana, and that man will run the greatest possible danger. I'd go myself, only the Swahilis won't fight unless I lead them.... Are you willing to take that post?
George.
I?
Alec.
I could order you, but the job's too dangerous for me to force it on any one. If you refuse, I shall call the others together and ask some one to volunteer. In that case you will have to find your way back alone as best you can to the coast.
George.
No, no! Anything rather than the shame of that.
Alec.
I won't hide from you that it means almost certain death. But there's no other way of saving ourselves. On the other hand, if you show perfect courage at the moment the Arabs attack and the Turkana find that we've given them the slip, you may escape. If you do, I promise nothing shall be said of all that has happened here.
George.
All right. I'll do that. And I thank you with all my heart for giving me the chance.
Alec.
I'm glad you've accepted. Whatever happens you'll have done a brave action in your life. [He holds out his hand toGeorge,who takes it.] I think there's nothing more to be said. You must be ready to start in half an hour. Here's your revolver. Remember that one chamber's empty. You'd better put in another cartridge.
George.
Yes, I'll do that.
[He goes out.
Dick.
D'you think he has any chance of escaping?
Alec.
If he has pluck he may get through.
Dick.
Well!
Alec.
To-morrow we shall know if he has that last virtue of a blackguard—courage.
Dick.
And if he hasn't, it's death you're sending him to?
Alec.
Yes. It's death!
END OF THE SECOND ACT
Scene:A smoking-room atLady Kelsey's,leading by an archway into a drawing-room at the back. On the right is a glass door which leads into the garden. On one side is a sofa; on the other a table with cigarettes, matches, whiskey, sodas, etc.
Lady Kelseyis giving a dance, and the music of the Lancers is heard vaguely from the ball-room as the curtain rises.Mrs. CrowleyandSir Robert Boulgerare sitting down.Lady Kelseycomes in with theRev. James Carbery.
Lady Kelsey.
Oh, you wretched people, why aren't you dancing? It's too bad of you to hide yourselves here!
Mrs. Crowley.
We thought no one would find us in the smoking-room. But why have you abandoned your guests, Lady Kelsey?
Lady Kelsey.
Oh, I've got them all comfortably settled in the Lancers, and I'm free to rest myself for a quarter of an hour. You don't know what agonies I've been suffering the whole evening.
Mrs. Crowley.
Good gracious me! Why?
Lady Kelsey.
I'm so afraid Alec Mackenzie will come.
Boulger.
You needn't worry about that, Aunt Alice. He'll never venture to show his face.
Lady Kelsey.
I didn't know what to do. It was impossible to put the dance off. It's too dreadful that these horrible revelations should....
Carbery.
[Supplying the word.] Transpire.
Lady Kelsey.
Yes, transpire on the very day I've at last persuaded Lucy to come into the world again. I wish Dick would come.
Boulger.
Yes, he'll be able to tell us something.
Mrs. Crowley.
But will he?
Carbery.
Wherever I go people are talking about Mr. Mackenzie, and I'm bound to say I've found nobody who has a good word for him.
Boulger.
[Bitterly.] Humpty-dumpty's had a great fall.
Carbery.
I wonder if I might have a cigarette?
Mrs. Crowley.
I'm sure you might. And if you press me dreadfully, I'll have one, too.
Boulger.
Don't press her. She's already had far too many.
Mrs. Crowley.
Well, I'll forego the pressing, but not the cigarette.
Carbery.
[Handing her the box and giving her a light.] It's against all my principles, you know.
Mrs. Crowley.
Whatisthe use of principles except to give one an agreeable sensation of wickedness when one doesn't act up to them?
[Dickcomes in as she speaks.
Dick.
My dear lady, you're as epigrammatic as a dramatist. Do you say such things from choice or necessity?
Lady Kelsey.
Dick!
Boulger.
Dick!
Mrs. Crowley.
Mr. Lomas!
Carbery.
Ah!
[The four exclamations are simultaneous.
Dick.
This enthusiasm at my appearance is no less gratifying than unexpected.
Lady Kelsey.
I'm so glad you've come at last. Now we shall get at the truth.
Boulger.
[Impatiently.] Well?
Dick.
My dear people, whatareyou talking about?
Boulger.
Oh, don't be such an ass!
Mrs. Crowley.
Good heavens, didn't you read theTimesthis morning?
Dick.
I only came back from Paris to-night. Besides, I never read the papers except in August.
Mrs. Crowley.
[Raising her eyebrows.] When there's nothing in them?
Dick.
Pardon me, I'm an eager student of the sea-serpent and the giant gooseberry.
Lady Kelsey.
My dear Dick, it's too shocking. I wish I'd had the courage to write and ask Mr. Mackenzie not to come. But since you both came back from Africa a month ago he's been here nearly every day. And he's been so good and kind to us, I couldn't treat him as though there was no doubt the story was true.
Boulger.
There can't be the least doubt about it. By George, I should like to kick him.
Dick.
[Dryly.] My dear chap, Alec is a hardy Scot and bigger than you, so I shouldn't advise you to try.
Boulger.
I was engaged to dine with him to-night, but I wired to say I had a headache.
Lady Kelsey.
What will he think if he sees you here?
Boulger.
He can think what he jolly well likes.
Lady Kelsey.
I hope he has the sense to stay away.
Carbery.
I think you're pretty safe now, Lady Kelsey. It's growing late.
Dick.
Will some one kindly explain?
Mrs. Crowley.
D'you mean to say you really don't know—seriously? After all, you were with him.
Lady Kelsey.
My dear Dick, there are two columns of fiery denunciation in this morning'sTimes.
[Dickis a little startled, but at once collects himself.
Dick.
Oh, that's only the reaction. That's nothing. Since he arrived in Mombassa, after three years in the heart of Africa, he's made almost a triumphal progress. Of course, it couldn't last. The reaction was bound to come.
Boulger.
[Looking at him steadily.] The article is signed by a man named Macinnery.
Dick.
[Calmly.] Alec found Macinnery half starving at Mombassa, and took him solely out of charity. But he was a worthless rascal, and he had to send him back.
Boulger.
He gives ample proof for every word he says.
Dick.
Whenever an explorer comes home, there's some one to tell nasty stories about him. People forget that kid gloves are not much use in a tropical forest, and grow very indignant when they hear that a man has used a little brute force to make himself respected.
Lady Kelsey.
Oh, my dear Dick, it's much worse than that. First poor Lucy's father died....
Dick.
You're not going to count that as an overwhelming misfortune? We were unanimous in describing that gentleman's demise as an uncommonly happy release.
Lady Kelsey.
But Lucy was heart-broken all the same. And when her life seemed to grow a little more cheerful, came her brother's tragic death.
Dick.
[Abruptly, toMrs. Crowley.] What is it exactly?
Mrs. Crowley.
The long and short of it is that Mr. Mackenzie was the cause of George Allerton's death.
Dick.
Lucy's brother was killed by the slave-traders.
Boulger.
Mackenzie sent him into a confounded trap to save his own dirty skin.
Lady Kelsey.
And the worst of it is that I think Lucy is in love with Mr. Mackenzie.
[Boulgermakes a slight movement, and for a moment there is an uncomfortable pause.
Carbery.
I saw him this evening in Piccadilly, and I almost ran into his arms. It was quite awkward.
Dick.
[Frigidly.] Why?
Carbery.
I don't think I want to shake the man's hand. He's nothing short of a murderer.
Boulger.
[Savagely.] He's worse than that. He's ten times worse.
Lady Kelsey.
Well, for heaven's sake be polite to him if he comes to-night.
Carbery.
I really couldn't bring myself to shake hands with him.
Dick.
[Dryly.] Don't you think you'd better wait for evidence before you condemn him?
Boulger.
My dear fellow, the letter in theTimesis absolutely damning. Interviewers went to him from the evening papers, and he refused to see them.
Dick.
What does Lucy say of it? After all, she's the person most concerned.
Lady Kelsey.
She doesn't know. I took care that she shouldn't see the paper. I wanted to give her this evening's enjoyment unalloyed.
Mrs. Crowley.
Take care, here she is.
[Lucycomes in.
Lady Kelsey.
[Smiling and reaching out her hand.] Well, darling?
Lucy.
[Going toLady Kelsey.] Are you growing very tired, my aunt?
Lady Kelsey.
I can rest myself for the time. I don't think any one else will come now.
Lucy.
[Gaily.] You faithless woman, have you forgotten the guest of the evening?
Lady Kelsey.
Mr. Mackenzie?
Lucy.
[Bending over her.] My dear, it was charming of you to hide the paper from me this morning....
Lady Kelsey.
[Startled.] Did you see the letter? I so wanted you not to till to-morrow.
Lucy.
Mr. Mackenzie very rightly thought I should know at once what was said about him and my brother. He sent me the paper himself this evening.
Boulger.
Did he write to you?
Lucy.
No, he merely scribbled on a card: "I think you should read this."
Boulger.
Well, I'm damned!
Lady Kelsey.
What did you think of the letter, Lucy?
Lucy.
[Proudly.] I didn't believe it.
BOULGER.
[Bitterly.] You must be blinded by your—friendship for Alec Mackenzie. I never read anything more convincing.
Lucy.
I could hardly believe him guilty of such an odious crime if he confessed it with his own lips.
Boulger.
Of course, he won't do that.
Dick.
Did I ever tell you how I made acquaintance with Alec? In the Atlantic—about three hundred miles from land.
Mrs. Crowley.
What a perfectly ridiculous place for an introduction.
Dick.
I was a silly young fool in those days, and I habitually played the giddy goat. In the course of which, I fell overboard and was proceeding to drown when Alec jumped in after me. It was an incautious thing to do, because he very nearly got drowned himself.
Lucy.
That's not the only heroic thing he's done.
Dick.
No, it's one of his hobbies to risk his life to save unnecessary and useless people. But the funny thing is that ever since he saved mine, he's been quite absurdly grateful. He seems to think I did him an intentional service and fell into the water on purpose to give him a chance of pulling me out.
Lucy.
[With a long look atDick.] It's very kind and good of you to have told that story.
[TheButlercomes in and announcesAlec Mackenzie.
Butler.
Mr. Mackenzie.
Alec.
[Blandly.] Ah, I thought I should find you here, Lady Kelsey.
Lady Kelsey.
[Shaking hands with him.] How d'you do? We've just been talking of you.
Alec.
Really?
Lady Kelsey.
It's so late, we were afraid you wouldn't come. I should have been dreadfully disappointed.
Alec.
It's very kind of you to say so. I've been at the Travellers', reading various appreciations of my own character.
Lady Kelsey.
[Somewhat embarrassed.] Oh, I heard there was something about you in the papers.
Alec.
There's a good deal. I really had no idea the world was so interested in me.
Lady Kelsey.
It's charming of you to come to-night. I'm sure you hate dances!
Alec.
Oh, no, they interest me enormously. I remember, one of the Kings of Uganda gave a dance in my honour. Ten thousand warriors in war-paint. I assure you it was most impressive.
Dick.
My dear fellow, if paint is the attraction you really need not go much farther than Mayfair.
Alec.
[Pretending for the first time to noticeBoulger.] Ah, there's my little friend Bobbie. I thought you had a headache?
Lady Kelsey.
[Quickly.] I'm afraid Bobby is dreadfully dissipated. He's not looking at all well.
Alec.
[Good-humouredly.] You shouldn't keep such late hours, Bobbie. At your age one wants one's beauty sleep.
Boulger.
It's very kind of you to take an interest in me. My headache has passed off.
Alec.
I'm very glad. What do you use—Phenacetin?
Boulger.
It went away of its own accord—after dinner.
Alec.
[Smiling.] So you resolved to give the girls a treat by coming to Lady Kelsey's dance? How nice of you not to disappoint them! [He turns toLucyand holds out his hand. They look into one another's eyes. She takes his hand.] I sent you a paper this evening.
Lucy.
It was very good of you.
[Carberycomes forward and offers his arm.
Carbery.
I think this is my dance, Miss Allerton. May I take you in?
Alec.
Carbery? I saw you in Piccadilly just now! You were darting about just like a young gazelle. I had no idea you could be so active.
Carbery.
I didn't see you.
Alec.
I observed that you were deeply interested in the shop windows as I passed. How are you?
[He holds out his hand, and for a momentCarberyhesitates to take it. ButAlec'ssteady gaze compels him.
Carbery.
How d'you do?
Alec.
[With an amused smile.] So glad to see you again, old man.
[Dickgives an audible chuckle, andCarbery,reddening, draws his hand away angrily. He goes toLucyand offers his arm.
Boulger.
[ToMrs. Crowley.] Shall I take you back?
Mrs. Crowley.
Do!
Lady Kesley.
Won't you come, Mr. Mackenzie?
Alec.
If you don't mind I'll stay and smoke just one cigarette with Dick Lomas. You know I'm not a dancing man.
Lady Kelsey.
Very well.
[All go out exceptAlecandDick.
Dick.
I suppose you know we were all beseeching Providence you'd have the grace to stay away to-night?
Alec.
[With a smile.] I suspected it, I confess. I shouldn't have come only I wanted to see Lucy. I've been in the country all day, and I knew nothing about Macinnery's letter till I saw the placards at the station.
Dick.
Macinnery proposes to make things rather uncomfortable, I imagine.
Alec.
[With a smile.] I made a mistake, didn't I? I ought to have dropped him in the river when I had no further use for him.
Dick.
What are you going to do?
Alec.
It's not easy to clear myself at a dead man's expense. The earth covers his crime and his sins and his weakness.
Dick.
D'you mean to say that you are going to sit still and let them throw mud at you?
Alec.
When George was dead I wrote to Lucy that he died like a brave man. I can't now publish to the whole world that he was a coward and a rogue. I can't rake up again the story of her father's crime.