Lady Filson.
I should think not, indeed!
Sir Randle.
[ToBertram.] Your mother and I!
Lady Filson.
[Horrified at the notion.] Oh!
Bertram.
Upon my word, this is rather rough! [Walking away.] I mean tosay——!
Philip.
[Turning.] We mustn't be too hard on poor Bertram, Lady Filson——
Bertram.
[Pacing the room near the big doors.] Poor Bertram! Ho!
Sir Randle.
[ToPhilip.] I trust we are never unduly hard on our children, my dear Philip——
Philip.
To do him justice, he was most anxious to postpone these dreadful revelations till to-morrow——
Bertram.
Exactly! [Throwing himself into the chair between the big doors and the vestibule door.] I predicted a scene! I predicted a scene!
Philip.
[ToSir RandleandLady Filson,penitently.] Perhaps it would have been wiser of me—more considerate—to have complied with his wishes. But I was in a fury—naturally——
Lady Filson.
[Sitting on the settee on the left.] Naturally.
Sir Randle.
And excusably. I myself, in similar circumstances——
Philip.
[Rubbing his head.] Why the deuce couldn't he have kept his twopenny thunderbolt in his pocket for a few hours, instead of launching it to-night and spoiling oursole à la Mornyand ourris de veau——!
Ottoline.
[Gradually composing herself and regaining her dignity]. P-P-Philip——
Philip.
[Coming to the smoking-table.] Eh?
Ottoline.
[Passing her handkerchief over her lips.] Need you—need you see this man to-night? Can't you stop him coming—or send him away?
Philip.
Not see him——?
Ottoline.
Why—why should you stoop to see him at all? Why shouldn't the matter be allowed to drop—to drop?
Philip.
Drop!
Ottoline.
It—it's too monstrous; too absurd. [ToBertram,with a laugh.] Ha, ha, ha! Bertie—Bertie dear——
Bertram.
[Sullenly.] Yes?
Ottoline.
Ha, ha! I almost scared you out of your wits, didn't I?
Bertram.
You've behaved excessively rudely——
Lady Filson.
Bertram—Bertram——
Bertram.
I mean tosay, mother! What becomes of family loyalty——?
Ottoline.
[ToBertram,coaxingly.] Forgive me, Bertram. I'm ashamed of my violent outburst. Forgive me——
Roope.
[Who has been effacing himself behind the table on the left, appearing at the nearer end of the table.] Er—dear excellent friends—[Sir RandleandLady Filsonlook atRoopeas if he had fallen from the skies, andBertramstares at him resentfully.] dear excellent friends, if I may be permitted to make an observation——
Philip.
[ToRoope.] Go ahead, old man.
Roope.
In my opinion, it would be a thousand pities not to see Mr. Dunning to-night, and have done with him. [Cheerfully.] The fish is ruined—we must resign ourselves to that; [sitting in the chair on the extreme left] but the other dishes, if the cook is fairly competent——
Sir Randle.
[Advancing.] Mr. Roope's opinion is my opinion also. [Ponderously.] As to whether Lady Filson and my daughter should withdraw into an adjoining room——
Lady Filson.
Ifeel with Philip; we couldn't sit down to dinner with this cloud hanging over us——
Sir Randle.
[Sitting in the chair by the smoking-table.] Impossible! I must be frank. Impossible!
Roope.
Dear Madame de Chaumié will pardon me for differing with her, but you can't very well ignore even a fellow of this stamp—[glancing atBertram] especially, if I understand aright, my excellent friend over there still persists——
Bertram.
[Morosely.] Yes, you do understand aright, Roope. I've every confidence in Dunning, I mean t'say——
Philip.
[Turning away, angrily.] Oh——!
Lady Filson.
[Severely.] Bertie——!
Sir Randle.
Bertram, myboy——!
[The bell rings. There is a short silence, and thenBertramrises and pulls down his waistcoat portentously.
Bertram.
Here he is.
Ottoline.
[ToLady Filson,in a low voice.] Mother——?
Lady Filson.
[ToPhilip.] Doyouwish us to withdraw, Philip?
Philip.
[Sitting at the writing-table.] Not at all, Lady Filson. [Switching on the light of the library-lamp, sternly.] On the contrary, I should like you both to remain.
Lady Filson.
[ToOttoline.] Otto dear——?
Ottoline.
[Adjusting a comb in her hair.] Oh, certainly, mother, I'll stay.
Lady Filson.
[Arranging her skirt and settling herself majestically.] Of this we may be perfectly sure; when my son finds that he has been misled, purposely or unintentionally, he will be only too ready—tooready——
Sir Randle.
[Leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.] That goes without saying, Winifred. A gentleman—an English gentleman——
Bertram.
[Who is watching the vestibule door—over his shoulder, snappishly.] Oh, of course, father, if it turns out that I've been sold, I'll eat humble-pie abjectly.
Roope.
[Shaking a finger atBertram.] Ha, ha! I hope you've brought a voracious appetite with you, dear excellent friend.
Bertram.
[ToRoope,exasperated.] Look heah, Mr. Roope——!
[The vestibule door opens andJohnannouncesDunning.
John.
Mr. Dunning.
[Dunningenters andJohnretires.Mr. Alfred Dunningis a spruce, middle-aged, shrewd-faced man with an affable but rather curt manner. He is in his hat and overcoat.
Dunning.
[ToBertram.] Haven't kept you long, have I? I just had a cup o' cocoa—[He checks himself on seeing so large an assembly, removes his hat, and includes everybody in a summary bow.] Evening.
Bertram.
[ToDunning.] Larger gathering than you expected. [Indicating the various personages by a glance.] Sir Randle and Lady Filson—my father and mother——
Dunning.
[ToSir RandleandLady Filson.] Evening.
Bertram.
My sister, Madame de Chaumié——
Dunning.
[ToOttoline.] Evening.
Bertram.
Mr. Roope—Mr. Mackworth——
Dunning.
[To them.] Evening.
[Sir Randle, Lady Filson,andRoope,looking atDunningout of the corners of their eyes, acknowledge the introduction by a slight movement.Philipnods unpleasantly.Ottoline,with a stony countenance, also eyesDunningaskance, and gives the barest possible inclination of her head on being named.
Bertram.
[Bringing forward the chair on which he has been sitting and planting it nearer toSir RandleandLady Filson—toDunning.] I suppose you may——
Dunning.
[Taking off his gloves and overcoat—toPhilip.] D'ye mind if I slip my coat off, Mr. Mackworth?
Philip.
[Growling.] No.
Dunning.
Don't want to get overheated, and catch the flue. I've got Mrs. D. in bed with a bad cold, as it is.
Bertram.
[ToDunning.] Now then, Mr. Dunning! I'll trouble you to give us an account of your operations in this business from the outset——
Dunning.
[Hanging his coat over the back of the chair.] Pleasure.
Bertram.
The business of Mr. Mackworth's new book, I mean t'say.
Dunning.
[Sitting and placing his hat on the floor.] Pleasure.
Bertram.
Middle of October, wasn't it, when I——?
Dunning.
Later. [Producing a dog's-eared little memorandum-book and turning its leaves with a moistened thumb.] Here we are—the twenty-fourth. [To everybody, referring to his notes as he proceeds—glibly.] Mr. Filson called on me and Mr. Sillitoe, ladies and gentlemen, on the twenty-fourth of last month with reference to a book by Mr. P. Mackworth—"The Big Drum"—published September the second, and drew our attention to the advertisements of Mr. Mackworth's publisher—Mr. Clifford Titterton, of Charles Street, Adelphi—relating to the same. Mr. F. having made us acquainted with the special circumstances of the case, and furnished us with his reasons for doubting Titterton's flowery statements, [wetting his thumb again and turning to the next leaf of his note-book] on the following day, the twenty-fifth, I purchased a copy of the said book at Messrs. Blake and Hodgson's in the Strand, Mr. Hodgson himself informing me in the course of conversation that, as far as his firm was concerned, the book wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary. [Repeating the thumb process.] I then proceeded to pump one of the gals—er—to interrogate one of the assistants—at a circulating library Mrs. D. subscribes to, with a similar result. [Turning to the next leaf.] My next step——
Sir Randle.
I wonder whether these elaborate preliminaries——?
Bertram.
Oh, don't interrupt, father! I mean tosay——!
Dunning.
[Imperturbably.] My next step was to place the book in the hands of a lady whose liter'y judgment is a great deal sounder than mineorMr. Sillitoe's—I allude to Mrs. D.—and her report was that, though amusing in parts, she didn't see anything in it to set the Thames on fire.
Philip.
[Laughing in spite of himself.] Ha, ha, ha!
Roope.
Ha, ha! [ToPhilip,with mock sympathy.] Dear excellent friend!
Bertram.
[ToRoope.] Yes, all right, Mr. Roope——!
Dunning.
[Turning to the next leaf.] I and Mr. Sillitoe then had another confab—er—consultation with Mr. Filson, and we pointed out to him that it was up to his father and mother to challenge Titterton's assertions and invite proof of their accuracy.
Roope.
[Quietly.] Obviously!
Dunning.
Mr. F., however, giving us to understand that he was acting solely on his own, and that he wished the investigation kept from his family, we proposed a different plan——
Bertram.
To which I reluctantly assented.
Dunning.
To get hold of somebody in Titterton's office—one of his employees, male or female——
Lady Filson.
[Shocked.] Oh! Oh, Bertie!
Ottoline.
[Rising, with a gesture of disgust.] Ah——!
Sir Randle.
[ToBertram.] Really! Really, Bertram——!
[SeeingOttolinerise,Philipalso rises and comes to her.
Lady Filson.
That a son of mine should countenance——!
Ottoline.
[Panting.] Oh, but this is—this is outrageous! [ToSir RandleandLady Filson.] Dad—mother—why should we degrade ourselves by listening any further? [ToPhilip.] Philip——!
Philip.
[Patting her shoulder soothingly.] Tsch, tsch, tsch——!
Bertram.
[ToLady FilsonandSir Randle.] My dear mother—my dear father—you're so impatient!
Philip.
[ToOttoline.] Tsch, tsch! Go back to the fire and toast your toes again.
Bertram.
I consider I was fully justified, I mean t'say——
[FalteringlyOttolinereturns to the fireplace. She stands there for a few seconds, clutching the mantel-shelf, and then subsides into the chair before the fire.Philipadvances to the settee on the right.
Philip.
[ToDunning.] Sorry we have checked your flow of eloquence, Mr. Dunning, even for a moment. [Sitting.] I wouldn't miss a syllable of it. [Airily.] Do, please, continue.
Sir Randle.
[Looking at his watch.] My dear Philip——!
Bertram.
[ToDunning,wearily.] Oh, come to the man—what's his name, Dunning?—Merryweather——!
Dunning.
[Turning several pages of his note-book with his wet thumb.] Merrifield.
Bertram.
Merrifield. [Passing behindDunningand half-seating himself on the further end of the table on the left.] Skip everything in between; [sarcastically] my father and mother are dying for their dinner.
Lady Filson.
Bertram!
Dunning.
[Finding the memorandum he is searching for, and quoting from it.] Henry Merrifield—entry clerk to Titterton—left Titterton, after a row, on the fifteenth of the present month——
Bertram.
A stroke of luck—Mr. Merrifield—if ever there was one! I mean t'say——
Dunning.
[To everybody.] Having gleaned certain significant facts from the said Henry Merrifield, ladies and gentlemen, [referring to his notes] I paid two visits last week to the offices of Messrs. Hopwood & Co., of 6, Carmichael Lane, Walbrook, described in fresh paint on their door as Shipping and General Agents; and the conclusion I arrived at was that Messrs. Hopwood & Co. were a myth and their offices a blind, the latter consisting of a small room on the ground floor, eight foot by twelve, and their staff of the caretakers of the premises—Mr. and Mrs. Sweasy—an old woman and her husband——
Roope.
[ToDunning.] If I may venture to interpose again, what on earth have Messrs. Hopwood——?
Sir Randle.
Yes, what have Messrs. Hopwood——?
Bertram.
[Over his shoulder.] Ho! What have Messrs. Hopwood——!
Roope.
[ToBertram,pointing toDunning.] I am addressingthisgentleman, dear excellent friend——
Dunning.
[ToRoope.] I'll tell you, sir. [Incisively.] It's to the bogus firm of Hopwood & Co. that the bulk of the volumes of Mr. Mackworth's new book have been consigned.
Bertram.
[Getting off the table, eagerly.] Dunning has seen them, I mean t'say——
Sir Randle.
[ToBertram,startled.] Be silent, Bertie!
Lady Filson.
[ToBertram,holding her breath.] Do be quiet!
Roope.
[Blankly.] The—the bulk of the volumes——?
Philip.
[Staring atDunning.] The—the bulk of the——?
Dunning.
[ToSir RandleandRoope.] Yes, gentlemen, the books are in a mouldy cellar, also rented by Messrs. Hopwood, at 6, Carmichael Lane. There's thousands of them there, in cases—some of the cases with shipping marks on them, some marked for inland delivery. I've inspected them this afternoon—overhauled them. Mr. Sweasy had gone over to the Borough to see his married niece, and I managed to get the right side ofMrs.S.
Sir Randle.
[Softly, looking from one to the other.] Curious! Curious!
Lady Filson.
[Forcing a smile.] How—how strange!
Roope.
[ToLady Filson,a little disturbed.] Why strange, dear Lady Filson? Shipping and other marks on the cases! These people are forwarding agents——
Dunning.
[Showing his teeth.] Nobody makes the least effort todespatchthe cases, though. That's singular, isn't it?
Roope.
But——!
Dunning.
[ToRoope.] My good sir, in the whole of our experience—mine and Mr. Sillitoe's—we've never come across a neater bit of hankey-pankey—[toPhilip] no offence—and if Merrifield hadn't smelt a rat——
Roope.
But—but—but—the cost of it all, my dear Mr. Dunning! I don't know much about these things—the expense of manufacturing many thousands of copies of Mr. Mackworth's new book——!
Sir Randle.
[Alertly.] Quite so! Surely, if we were to be deceived, a simpler method could have been found——?
Roope.
[With energy.] Besides, what has Mr. Titterton to gain by the deception?
Sir Randle.
True! True! What hasheto gain——?
Philip.
[Who is sitting with his hands hanging loosely, utterly bewildered—rousing himself.] Good God, yes! What has Titterton to gain by joining me in a blackguardly scheme to—to—to——?
Dunning.
[ToSir RandleandRoope.] Well, gentlemen, in the first place, it's plain that Titterton was too fly to risk being easily blown upon——
Bertram.
He was prepared to prove that the bookshave beenmanufactured and delivered, I mean t'say——
Dunning.
And in the second place, on the question of expense, the speculation was a tolerably safe one.
Lady Filson.
[Keenly.] Speculation?
Dunning.
Madarme dee Showmeeay being, according to my instructions—[toLady Filson,after a glance inOttoline's direction] no offence, ladies—[toSir RandleandRoope] Madarme dee Showmeeay being what is usually termed a catch, Mr. Mackworth would have been in a position, after his marriage, to reimburse Titterton——
[Philipstarts to his feet with a cry of rage.
Philip.
Oh——!
Roope.
[Jumping up and hurrying toPhilip—pacifying him.] My dear Phil—mydearold chap——
Philip.
[GraspingRoope's arm.] Robbie——!
[Sir Randlerises and goes toLady Filson.She also rises as he approaches her. They gaze at each other with expressionless faces.
Roope.
[ToPhilip.] Where does Titterton live?
Philip.
Gordon Square.
Roope.
[Pointing to the telephone.] Telephone—have him round——
Philip.
He's not in London.
Roope.
Not——?
Philip.
He's gone to the Riviera—left this morning. [Crossing toSir RandleandLady Filson—appealingly.] Lady Filson—Sir Randle—youdon't believe that Titterton and I could be guilty of such an arrant piece of knavery, do you? Ho, ho, ho! It's preposterous.
Sir Randle.
[Constrainedly.] Frankly—I must be frank—I hardly knowwhatto believe.
Lady Filson.
[Pursing her mouth.] We—we hardly knowwhatto believe.
Philip.
[Leaving them.] Ah——!
Roope.
[Who has dropped into the chair by the smoking-table—toSir Randle.] Sir Randle—dear excellent friend—let us meet Mr. Dunning to-morrow at Messrs. Hopwood's in Carmichael Lane—we three—you and I and Mackworth——
Philip.
[Pacing up and down between the table on the left and the bookcase.] Yes, yes—before I wire to Titterton—or see Curtis, his manager——
Roope.
[Over his shoulder, toDunning.] Hey, Mr. Dunning?
Dunning.
Pleasure.
[While this has been going on,Dunninghas put his note-book away and risen, gathering up his hat and overcoat as he does so.Bertramis now assisting him into his coat.
Sir Randle.
[Advancing a step or two.] At what hour——?
Dunning.
[Briskly.] Ten-thirty suit you, gentlemen?
Sir Randle, Philip,andRoope.
[Together.] Half-past-ten.
Roope.
[Scribbling with a pocket-pencil on his shirt-cuff.] 6, Carmichael Lane, Walbrook——
Dunning.
[Pulling down his under-coat.] I'll be there.
Roope.
[Lowering his hands suddenly and leaning back in his chair, as if about to administer a poser.] By the way, Mr. Dunning, you tell us you have a strong conviction that Messrs. Hopwood & Co. are a myth, and their offices a sham—[caustically] may I ask whether you've tried to ascertain whoisthe actual tenant of the room and cellar in Carmichael Lane?
Bertram.
[Sniggering.] Why, Titterton, of course. I mean tosay——!
Roope.
[WavingBertramdown.] Dear excellent friend——!
Dunning.
[Taking up his hat, which he has laid upon the smoking-table—toRoope,with a satisfied air.] Mr. Sillitoe's got that in hand, sir. What Ihaveascertained is that a young feller strolls in occasionally and smokes a cigarette——
Bertram.
And pokes about in the cellar——
Dunning.
Callshimself Hopwood. But the name written on the lining of his hat—[toBertram,carelessly] oh, I forgot to mention this to you, Mr. Filson. [Producing his memorandum-book again.] Old mother Sweasy was examining the young man's outdoor apparel the other day. [Turning the pages with his wet thumb.] The name on the lining of his hat is—[finding the entry] is "Westrip." "Leonard Westrip."
Bertram.
Westrip?
Sir Randle.
Leonard—Westrip?
Lady Filson.
Mr. Westrip!
Sir Randle.
[ToDunning,blinking.] Mr. Westrip is my secretary.
Bertram.
[ToDunning,agape.] He's my father's secretary.
Dunning.
[ToSir Randle.] Your seckert'ry?
Philip.
[Coming to the nearer end of the settee on the left.] The—the—the fair boy I've seen in Ennismore Gardens!
Roope.
[Rising and joiningSir RandleandLady Filson—expressing his amazement by flourishing his arms.] Oh, my dear excellent friends——!
Lady Filson.
[ToSir Randle.] Randle—what—what next——!
Sir Randle.
[Closing his eyes.] Astounding! Astounding!
Dunning.
[Looking about him, rather aggressively.] Well, I seem to have accidentally dropped a bombshell among you! Will any lady or gentleman kindly oblige with some particulars——? [ToOttoline,who checks him with an imperious gesture—changing his tone.] I beg your pardon, madarme——
[Ottolinehas left her chair and come to the writing-table, where, with a drawn face and downcast eyes, she is now standing erect.
Ottoline.
[ToDunning,repeating her gesture.] Stop! [ToLady FilsonandSir Randle,in a strained voice.] Mother—Dad——
[Everybody looks at her, surprised at her manner.
Lady Filson.
Otto dear——?
Ottoline.
I—I can't allow you all to be mystified any longer. I—I can clear this matter up.
Sir Randle.
You, my darling?
Ottoline.
[Steadying herself by resting her finger-tips upon the table.] The—the explanation is that Mr. Westrip—[with a wan smile] poor boy—he would jump into the sea for me if I bade him—the explanation is that Mr. Westrip has been—helping me——
Lady Filson.
Helpingyou——?
Sir Randle.
Helpingyou——?
Ottoline.
[Inclining her head.] Helping me. He—he—— [Raising her eyes defiantly and confronting them all.]Écoutez!Robbie Roope has asked who is the actual tenant of the cellar and room in Carmichael Lane. [Breathing deeply.]Iam.
Lady Filson.
[Advancing a few steps.]Youare! N-n-nonsense!
Ottoline.
Mr. Westrip took the place for me—my arrangement with Titterton made it necessary——
Lady Filson.
With Titterton! Then he—hehas——?
Ottoline.
Yes. The thousands of copies—packed in the cases with the lying labels—Ihave bought them—they're mine——
Lady Filson.
Y-y-yours!
Ottoline.
I—I was afraid the book had failed—and I went to Titterton—and bargained with him——
Lady Filson.
So—so everything—everything that your brother and Mr.—Mr. Dunning have surmised——?
Ottoline.
Everything, mother—except that I am the culprit, and Mr. Mackworth is the victim.
Lady Filson.
Ottoline——!
Ottoline.
[Passing her hand over her brow.] It—it's horrible of me to give Titterton away—but—what can I do?—[She turns her back upon them sharply and, leaning against the table, searches for her handkerchief.] Oh! Need Mr. Dunning stay——?
[Bertram,aghast, nudgesDunningand hurries to the vestibule door.Dunningfollows him into the vestibule on tiptoe. Slowly and deliberatelyPhilipmoves to the middle of the room and stands there with his hands clenched, glaring into space.Sir Randle,his jaw falling, sits in the chair on the extreme left.
Lady Filson.
[TouchingPhilip's arm sympathetically.] Oh, Philip——!
Dunning.
[ToBertram,in a whisper.] Phiou! Rummy development this, Mr. Filson!
Bertram.
[ToDunning,in the same way.] Awful. [Opening the outer door.] I—I'll see you in the m-m-morning.
Dunning.
Pleasure. [Raising his voice.] Evening, ladies and gentlemen.
Lady Filson.
[Again sitting on the settee on the left, also searching for her handkerchief.] G-g-good night.
Sir Randle.
[Weakly.] Good night.
Roope.
[Who has wandered to the bookcase like a man in a trance.] Good night.
[Dunningdisappears, andBertramcloses the outer door and comes back into the room. Shutting the vestibule door, he sinks into the chair lately vacated byDunning.There is a silence, broken at length by a low, grating laugh fromPhilip.
Philip.
Ha, ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha——!
Lady Filson.
[Dolefully.] Oh, Ottoline—Ottoline——!
Philip.
Ha, ha, ha——!
Ottoline.
[Creeping to the nearer end of the writing-table.] H'ssh! H'ssh! Philip—Philip——!
Philip.
[Loudly.] Ho, ho, ho——!
Ottoline.
Don't! don't! [Making a movement of entreaty towards him.] Phil—Phil——!
[His laughter ceases abruptly and he looks her full in the face.
Philip.
[After a moment's pause, bitingly.] Thank you—thank you—[turning from her and seating himself in the chair by the smoking-table and resting his chin on his fist] thank you.
[Again there is a pause, and thenOttolinedraws herself up proudly and moves in a stately fashion towards the vestibule door.
Ottoline.
[AtBertram's side.] Bertram—my cloak——
[Bertramrises meekly and fetches her cloak.
Sir Randle.
[Getting to his feet and approachingPhilip—mournfully.] Your mother's wrap, also, Bertram.
Lady Filson.
[Rising.] Yes, let us all go home.
Sir Randle.
[ToPhilip,laying a hand on his shoulder.] My daughter has brought great humiliation upon us—upon her family, my dear Philip—by this—I must be harsh—by this unladylike transaction——
Lady Filson.
I have never felt so ashamed in my life!
Sir Randle.
[ToPhilip.] By-and-by I shall be better able to command language in which to express my profound regret. [Offering his hand.] For the present—good night, and God bless you!
Philip.
[ShakingSir Randle's hand mechanically.] Good night.
[AsSir Randleturns away,Lady Filsoncomes toPhilip.Bertram,having helpedOttolinewith her cloak, now bringsLady Filson's wrap from the vestibule.Sir Randletakes it from him, andBertramthen returns to the vestibule and puts on his overcoat.
Lady Filson.
[ToPhilip,who rises.] You must have us to dinner another time, Philip. If I eat a crust to-night it will be as much as I shall manage. [Speaking lower, with genuine feeling.] Oh, my dear boy, don't be too cast down—over your clever book, I mean! [Taking him by the shoulders.] It's a cruel disappointment for you—and you don't deserve it. May I——? [She pulls him to her and kisses him.] Good night.
Philip.
[Gratefully.] Good night.
[Lady FilsonleavesPhilipand looks about for her wrap.Sir Randleputs her into it and then goes into the vestibule and wrestles with his overcoat.
Bertram.
[Coming toPhilip,humbly.] M—M—Mackworth—I—I——
Philip.
[Kindly.] No, no; don't you bother, old man——
Bertram.
I—I could kick myself, Mackworth, I could indeed. I've been a sneak and a cad, I mean t'say, and—and I'm properly paid out——
Philip.
[Shaking him gently.] Why, what are you remorseful for? You've only brought out the truth, Bertie——
Bertram.
Yes, but I mean tosay——!
Philip.
AndImean to say that I'm in your debt for showing me that I've been a vain, credulous ass. Now be off and get some food. [Holding out his hand.] Good night.
Bertram.
[WringingPhilip's hand.] Good night, Mackworth. [Turning fromPhilipand seeingRoope,who, anxiously following events, is standing by the chair on the extreme left.] Good night, Roope.
Roope.
G-g-good night.
Lady Filson.
[Half in the room and half in the vestibule—toRoope,remembering his existence.] Oh, good night, Mr. Roope!
Roope.
Good night, dear Lady Filson.
Sir Randle.
[In the vestibule.] Good night, Mr. Roope.
Roope.
Good night. Good night, dear excellent friends.
Lady Filson.
[ToOttoline,who is lingering by the big doors.] Ottoline——
[Lady FilsonandBertramjoinSir Randlein the vestibule andSir Randleopens the outer door.Philip,his hands behind him and his chin on his breast, has walked to the fireplace and is standing there looking fixedly into the fire.Ottolineslowly comes forward and fingers the back of the chair by the smoking-table.
Ottoline.
Good night, Philip.
[He turns to her, makes her a stiff, formal bow, and faces the fire again.
Roope.
[Advancing to her—under his breath.] Oh——!
Ottoline.
[Giving him her hand.] Ah! [With a plaintive shrug.]Vous voyez! C'est fini après tout!
Roope.
No, no——!
Ottoline.
[Withdrawing her hand.] Pst! [Throwing her head up.] Good night, Robbie.
[With a queenly air she sweeps into the vestibule and followsSir RandleandLady Filsonout on to the landing.Bertramcloses the vestibule door, and immediately afterwards the outer door slams.
Roope.
[ToPhilip,in an agony.] No, no, Phil! It mustn't end like this! Good lord, man, reflect—consider what you're chucking away! You're mad—absolutely mad! [Philipcalmly presses a bell-push at the side of the fireplace.] I'll go after 'em—and talk to her. I'll talk to her. [Running to the vestibule door and opening it.] Don't wait for me. [Going into the vestibule and grabbing his hat and overcoat.] It's a tiff—a lovers' tiff! It's nothing but a lovers' tiff! [Shutting the vestibule door, piteously.] Oh, my dear excellent friend——!
[Johnappears, opening one of the big doors a little way. Again the outer door slams.
Philip.
[ToJohn,sternly.] Dinner.
John.
[Looking for the guests—dumbfoundered] D-d-dinner, sir?
Philip.
Serve dinner.
John.
[His eyes bolting.] The—the—the ladies and gentlemen have gone, sir!
Philip.
Yes. I'm dining alone.
[Johnvanishes precipitately; whereuponPhilipstrides to the big doors, thrusts them wide open with a blow of his fists, and sits at the dining-table.