Agatha Posket.This is for you, Charley—already.[Wykegoes out.Charlotte.Spare my blushes, dear—it’s from Horace, Captain Vale. The dear wretch knew I was coming to you. Heigho! Will you excuse me?Mr. Posket.Certainly.Agatha Posket.Excuse me, please?Charlotte.Certainly, my dear.Mr. Posket.Certainly, my darling. Excuse me, won’t you?Charlotte.Oh, certainly.Agatha Posket.Certainly, Æneas.[Simultaneously they all open their letters, and lean back and read.Agatha Posket.[Reading.] Lady Jenkins is not feeling very well.Charlotte.If Captain Horace Vale stood before me at this moment, I’d slap his face!Agatha Posket.Charlotte!Charlotte.[Reading.] “Dear Miss Verrinder,—Your desperate flirtation with Major Bristow at the Meet on Tuesday last, three days after our engagement, has just come to my knowledge. Your letters and gifts, including the gold-headed hair-pin given me at the Hunt Ball, shall be returned to-morrow. By Jove, all is over! Horace Vale.” Oh, dear!Agatha Posket.Oh, Charley, I’m so sorry! However, you can deny it.Charlotte.[Weeping.] That’s the worst of it, I can’t.Mr. Posket.[ToAgatha Posket.] My darling, you will be delighted. A note from Colonel Lukyn.Agatha Posket.Lukyn—Lukyn? I seem to know the name.Mr. Posket.An old schoolfellow of mine who went to India many years ago. He has just come home. I met him at the club last night and asked him to name an evening to dine with us. He accepts for to-morrow.Agatha Posket.Lukyn, Lukyn?Mr. Posket.Listen. [Reading.] “It will be especially delightful to me, as I believe I am an old friend of your wife and of her first husband. You may recall me to her recollection by reminding her that I am the Captain Lukyn who stood sponsor to her boy when he was christened at Baroda.”Agatha Posket.[Giving a loud scream.] Oh!Mr. Posket.My dear!Agatha Posket.I’ve twisted my foot.Mr. Posket.Howdonuts come into the drawing-room?Charlotte.[Quietly toAgatha Posket.] Aggy?Agatha Posket.[ToCharlotte.] The boy’s god-father.Charlotte.When was the child christened?Agatha Posket.A month after he was born. They always are.Mr. Posket.[Reading the letter again.] This isverypleasant.Agatha Posket.[ToMr. Posket.] Let—let me see the letter, I—I may recognise the handwriting.Mr. Posket.[Handing her the letter.] Certainly, my pet. [To himself.] Awakened memories of Number One. That’s the worst of marrying a widow; somebody is always proving her previous convictions.Agatha Posket.[ToCharlotte.] “No. 19a, Cork Street!” Charley, put on your things and come with me.Charlotte.Agatha, you’re mad!Agatha Posket.I’m going to shut this man’s mouth before he comes into this house to-morrow.Charlotte.Waittillhe comes.Agatha Posket.Yes, till he stalks in here with his “How d’ye do, Posket? Haven’t seen your wife since the year ’66, by Gad, sir!” Not I! Æneas!Mr. Posket.My dear.Agatha Posket.Lady Jenkins—Adelaide—is very ill; she can’t put her foot to the ground with neuralgia.[Taking the letter from her pocket, and giving it to him.Mr. Posket.Bless me!Agatha Posket.We have known each other for six long years.Mr. Posket.Only six weeks, my love.Agatha Posket.Weeksareyears in close friendship. My place is by her side.Mr. Posket.[Reading the letter.] “Slightly indisposed, caught trifling cold at the Dog Show. Where do you buy your handkerchiefs?” There’s nothing about neuralgia or putting her foot to the ground here, my darling.Agatha Posket.No, but can’t you read between the lines, Æneas? That is the letter of a woman who is not at all well.Mr. Posket.All right, my darling, if you are bent upon going I will accompany you.Agatha Posket.Certainly not, Æneas—Charlotte insists on being my companion; we can keep each other warm in a closed cab.Mr. Posket.But can’t I make a third?Agatha Posket.Don’t be so forgetful, Æneas—don’t you know that in a four-wheeled cab, the fewer knees there are the better.[Agatha PosketandCharlottego out.Ciscomes in hurriedly.Cis.What’s the matter, Guv?Mr. Posket.Your mother and Miss Verrinder are going out.Cis.Out of their minds? It’s a horrid night.Mr. Posket.Yes, but Lady Jenkins is ill.Cis.Oh! Is ma mentioned in the will?Mr. Posket.Good gracious, what a boy! No, Cis, your mother is merely going to sit by Lady Jenkins’ bedside, to hold her hand, and to tell her where one goes to—to buy pocket-handkerchiefs.Cis.By Jove! The mater can’t be home again till half-past twelve or one o’clock.Mr. Posket.Much later if Lady Jenkins’ condition is alarming.Cis.Hurray! [He takes the watch out ofMr. Posket’spocket.] Just half-past ten. Greenwich mean, eh, Guv?[He puts the watch to his ear, pullingMr. Poskettowards him by the chain.Mr. Posket.What an extraordinary lad!Cis.[Returning watch.] Thanks. They have to get from here to Campden Hill and back again. I’ll tell Wyke to get them the worst horse on the rank.Mr. Posket.My dear child!Cis.Three-quarters of an hour’s journey from here at least. Twice three-quarters, one hour and a half. An hour with Lady Jenkins—when women get together, you know, Guv, they do talk—that’s two hours and a half. Good. Guv, will you come with me?Mr. Posket.Go with you! Where?Cis.Hotel des Princes, Meek Street. A sharp hansom does it in ten minutes.Mr. Posket.Meek Street, Hotel des Princes! Child, do you know what you’re talking about?Cis.Rather. Look here, Guv, honour bright—no blab if I show you a letter.Mr. Posket.I won’t promise anything.Cis.You won’t! Do you know, Guv, you are doing a very unwise thing to check the confidence of a lad like me?Mr. Posket.Cis, my boy!Cis.Can you calculate the inestimable benefit it is to a youngster to have some one always at his elbow, some one older, wiser, and better off than himself?Mr. Posket.Of course, Cis, of course, Iwantyou to make a companion of me.Cis.Then how the deuce can I do that if you won’t come with me to Meek Street?Mr. Posket.Yes, but deceiving your mother!Cis.Deceivingthe mater would be to tell her a crammer—a thing, I hope, we’re both of us much above.Mr. Posket.Good boy, good boy.Cis.Concealingthe fact that we’re going to have a bit of supper at the Hotel des Princes, is doing my mother a great kindness, because it would upset her considerably to know of the circumstances. You’ve been wrong, Guv, but we won’t say anything more about that. Read the letter.[GivesMr. Posketthe letter.Mr. Posket.[Reading in a dazed sort of a way.] “Hotel des Princes, Meek Street, W. Dear Sir,—Unless youdrop in and settle your arrears, I really cannot keep your room for you any longer. Yours obediently, Achille Blond. Cecil Farringdon, Esq.” Good heavens! You have a room at the Hotel das Princes!Cis.A room! It’s little better than a coop.Mr. Posket.You don’t occupy it?Cis.But my friends do. When I was at Brighton I was in with the best set—hope I always shall be. I left Brighton—nice hole I was in. You see, Guv, I didn’t want my friends to make free with your house.Mr. Posket.Oh, didn’t you?Cis.So I took a room at the Hotel des Princes—when I want to put a man up he goes there. You see, Guv, it’syouI’ve been considering more than myself.Mr. Posket.But you are a mere child.Cis.A fellow is just as old as he feels. I feel no end of a man. Hush, they’re coming down! I’m off to tell Wyke about the rickety four-wheeler.Mr. Posket.Cis, Cis! Your mother will discover I have been out.Cis.Oh, I forgot, you’re married, aren’t you?Mr. Posket.Married!Cis.Say you are going to the club.Mr. Posket.But that’s not the truth, sir!Cis.Yes it is. We’ll pop in at the club on our way, and you can give me a bitters.[Goes out.Mr. Posket.Good gracious, what a boy! Hotel des Princes, Meek Street! What shall I do? Tell his mother? Why, it would turn her hair grey. If I could only get a quiet word with this Mr. Achille Blond, I could put a stop to everything. That is my best course, not to lose a moment in rescuing the child from his boyish indiscretion. Yes, I must go with Cis to Meek Street.EnterAgatha PosketandCharlotte,elegantly dressed.Agatha Posket.Have you sent for a cab, Æneas?Mr. Posket.Cis is looking after that.Agatha Posket.Poor Cis! How late we keep him up.Ciscomes in.Cis.Wyke has gone for a cab, ma dear.Agatha Posket.Thank you, Cis darling.Cis.If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go to my room. I’ve another bad headache coming on.Agatha Posket.[Kissing him.] Run along, my boy.Cis.Good-night, ma. Good-night, Aunt Charlotte.Charlotte.Good-night, Cis.Agatha Posket.[To herself.] I wish the cab would come.[Agatha PosketandCharlottelook out of the window.Cis.[At the door.] Ahem! Good-night, Guv.Mr. Posket.You’ve told a story—two, sir! You said you were going up to your room.Cis.So I am—to dress.Mr. Posket.You said you had a bad headache coming on.Cis.So I have, Guv. I always get a bad headache at the Hotel des Princes.[Goes out.Mr. Posket.Oh, what a boy!Agatha Posket.[To herself.] When will that cab come?Mr. Posket.Ahem! My pet, the idea has struck me that, as you are going out, it would not be a bad notion for me to pop into my club.Agatha Posket.The club! You were there last night.Mr. Posket.I know, my darling. Many men look in at their clubs every night.Agatha Posket.A nice example for Cis, truly! I particularly desire that you should remain at home to-night, Æneas.Mr. Posket.[To himself.] Oh, dear me!Charlotte.[ToAgatha Posket.] Why not let him go to the club, Agatha?Agatha Posket.He might meet Colonel Lukyn there.Charlotte.If Colonel Lukyn is there we shan’t find him in Cork Street!Agatha Posket.Then we follow him to the club.Charlotte.Ladies never call at a club.Agatha Posket.Such things have been known.Wykeenters.Wyke.[Grinning behind his hand.] The cab is coming, ma’am.Agatha Posket.Coming? Why didn’t you bring it with you?Wyke.I walk quicker than the cab, ma’am. It’s a good horse, slow, but very certain.Agatha Posket.We will come down.Wyke.[To himself.] Just what the horse has done. [ToAgatha Posket.] Yes, ma’am.[Wykegoes out.Agatha Posket.Good-night, Æneas.Mr. Posket.[Nervously.] I wish you would allow me to go to the club, my pet.Agatha Posket.Æneas, I am surprised at your obstinacy. It is so very different from my first husband.Mr. Posket.Really, Agatha, I am shocked. I presume the late Mr. Farringdon occasionally used his clubs.Agatha Posket.Indian clubs. Indian clubs are good for the liver, London clubs are not. Good-night!Mr. Posket.I’ll see you to your cab, Agatha.Agatha Posket.No, thank you.Mr. Posket.Upon my word!Charlotte.[ToAgatha Posket.] Why not?Agatha Posket.He would want to give the direction to the cabman!Charlotte.The first tiff. [ToMr. Posket.] Good-night, Mr. Posket.Mr. Posket.Good-night, Miss Verrinder.Agatha Posket.[ToMr. Posket.] Have you any message for Lady Jenkins?Mr. Posket.Confound Lady Jenkins.Agatha Posket.I will deliver your message in the presence of Sir George, who, I may remind you, is the permanent Secretary at the Home Office.[Agatha PosketandCharlottego out;Mr. Posketpaces up and down excitedly.Mr. Posket.Gurrh? I’m not to go to the club! I set a bad example to Cis! Ha! ha! I am different from her first husband. Yes, I am—I’m alive for one thing. I—I—I—I—I’m dashed if I don’t go out with the boy.Cis.[Putting his head in at the door.] Coast clear, Guv? All right.EnterCis,in fashionable evening dress, carryingMr. Posket’sovercoat and hat.Cis.Here are your hat and overcoat.Mr. Posket.Where on earth did you get that dress suit?Cis.Mum’s the word, Guv. Brighton tailor—six months’ credit. He promised to send in the bill to you, so the mater won’t know. [PuttingMr. Posket’shat on his head.] By Jove, Guv, don’t my togs show you up?Mr. Posket.I won’t go, I won’t go. I’ve never met such a boy before.Cis.[Proceeds to help him with his overcoat.] Mind your arm, Guv. You’ve got your hand in a pocket. No, no—that’s a tear in the lining. That’s it.Mr. Posket.I forbid you to go out!Cis.Yes, Guv. And I forbid you to eat any of those devilled oysters we shall get at the Hotel des Princes. Now you’re right!Mr. Posket.I am not right!Cis.Oh, I forgot! [He pulls out a handful of loose money.] I found this money in your desk, Guv. You had better take it out with you; you may want it. Here you are—gold, silver, and coppers. [He empties the money intoMr. Posket’sovercoat pocket.] One last precaution, and then we’re off.[Goes to the writing-table, and writes on a half-sheet of note-paper.Mr. Posket.I shall take a turn round the Square, and then come home again! I will not be influenced by a mere child! A man of my responsible position—a magistrate—supping slily at the Hotel des Princes, in Meek Street—it’s horrible.Cis.Now, then—we’ll creep downstairs quietly so as not to bring Wyke from his pantry. [GivingMr. Posketpaper.] You stick that up prominently, while I blow out the candles.[Cisblows out the candles on the piano.Mr. Posket.[Reading.] “Your master and Mr. Cecil Farringdon are going to bed. Don’t disturb them.” I will not be a partner to any written document. This is untrue.Cis.No, it isn’t—we are going to bed when we come home. Make haste, Guv.Mr. Posket.Oh, what a boy.[Pinning the paper on to the curtain.Cis.[Turning down the lamp, and watchingMr. Posket.] Hallo, Guv! hallo! You’re an old hand at this sort of game, are you?Mr. Posket.How dare you!Cis.[TakingMr. Posket’sarm.] Now, then, don’t breathe.Mr. Posket.[Quite demoralised.] Cis! Cis! Wait a minute—wait a minute!Cis.Hold up, Guv. [Wykeenters.] Oh, bother!Wyke.[ToMr. Posket.] Going out, sir?Mr. Posket.[Struggling to be articulate.] No—yes—that is—partially—half round the Square, and possibly—er—um—back again. [ToCis.] Oh, you bad boy!Wyke.[Coolly going up to the paper on curtains.] Shall I take this down now, sir?Mr. Posket.[Quietly toCis.] I’m in an awful position! What am I to do?Cis.Do as I do—tip him.Mr. Posket.What!Cis.Tip him.Mr. Posket.Oh, yes—yes. Where’s my money?[Cistakes two coins out ofMr. Posket’spocket and gives them to him without looking at them.Cis.[ToMr. Posket.] Give him that.Mr. Posket.Yes.Cis.And say—“Wyke, you want a new umbrella—buy a very good one. Your mistress has a latch-key, so go to bed.”Mr. Posket.Wyke!Wyke.Yes, sir.Mr. Posket.[Giving him money.] Go to bed—buy a very good one. Your mistress has a latch-key—so—so you want a new umbrella!Wyke.All right, sir. You can depend on me. Are you well muffled up, sir? Mind you take care of him, Master Cis.Cis.[SupportingMr. Posket;Mr. Posketgroaning softly.] Capital, Guv, capital. Are you hungry?Mr. Posket.Hungry! You’re a wicked boy. I’ve told a falsehood.Cis.No, you haven’t, Guv—he really does want a new umbrella.Mr. Posket.Does he, Cis? Does he? Thank heaven![They go out.Wyke.[Looking at money] Here! What, twopence! [Throws the coins down in disgust.] I’ll tell the missus.END OF THE FIRST ACT.THE SECOND ACTThe scene is a supper-room at the Hotel des Princes, Meek Street, with two doors—the one leading into an adjoining room, the other into a passage—and a window opening on to a balcony.Isidore,a French waiter, is showing inCisandMr. Posket.Cis.Come on, Guv—come on. How are you, Isidore?Isidore.I beg your pardon—I am quite well, and so are you, zank you.Cis.I want a pretty little light supper for myself and my friend, Mr. Skinner.Isidore.Mr. Skinner.Mr. Posket.[ToCis.] Skinner! Is some one else coming?Cis.No, no. You’re Skinner.Mr. Posket.Oh![Wanders round the room.Cis.Mr. Skinner, of the Stock Exchange. What have you ready?Isidore.[In an undertone toCis.] I beg your pardon—very good—but Monsieur Blond he say to me, “Isidore, listen now; if Mr. Farringdon he come here, you say, I beg your pardon, you are a nice gentleman, but will you pay your little account when it is quite convenient, before you leave the house at once.”Cis.Quite so, there’s no difficulty about that. What’s the bill?Isidore.[Gives the bill.] I beg your pardon. Eight pounds four shillings.Cis.Phew! Here go my winnings from old Bullamy and the Guv. [Counting out money.] Two pounds short. [Turning toMr. Posket,who is carefully examining the scratches on the mirrors.] Skinner! Skinner!Mr. Posket.Visitors evidently scratch their names on the mirrors. Dear me! Surely this is a spurious title—“Lottie, Duchess of Fulham!” How very curious!Cis.Skinner, got any money with you?Mr. Posket.Yes, Cis, my boy.[Feels for his money.Cis.You always keep it in that pocket, Skinner.Mr. Posket.[Taking out money.] Oh, yes.[Cistakes two sovereigns fromMr. Posketand gives the amount of his bill toIsidore,who goes to the sideboard to count out change.Cis.No putting the change to bed, Isidore,Mr. Posket.What’s that?Cis.Putting the change to bed! Isidore will show you. [ToIsidore,who comes to them with the change and the bill on a plate.] Isidore, show Mr. Skinner how you put silver to bed.Isidore.Oh, Mr. Farringdon, I beg your pardon—no, no!Mr. Posket.It would be most instructive.Isidore.Very good. [Goes to the table, upon which he puts plate.] Say I have to give you change sixteen shillings.Mr. Posket.Certainly.Isidore.Very good. Before I bring it to you I slip a little half-crown under the bill—so. Then I put what is left on the top of the bill, and I say, “I beg your pardon, your change.” You take it, you give me two shillings for myself, and all is right.Mr. Posket.[Counting the silver on the bill with the end of his glasses.] Yes, but suppose I count the silver, it is half-a-crown short!Isidore.Then I say, “I beg your pardon, how dare you say that?” Then I do so. [He pulls the bill from the plate.] Then I say, “The bill is eight pounds four shillings [handing the plate], count again.”Mr. Posket.Ah, of course, it’s all right now.Isidore.Very good, then you give me five shillings for doubting me. Do it; do it.Mr. Posket.[In a daze, giving him the five shillings.] Like this?Isidore.Yes, like that. [Slipping the money into his pocket.] I beg your pardon—thank you. [HandingCisthe rest of the change.] Your change, Mr. Farringdon.Cis.Oh, I say, Isidore.Blond,a fat, middle-aged French hotel-keeper, enters with a letter in his hand.Isidore.Monsieur Blond.Blond.Good evening, Mr. Farringdon.Isidore.[Quietly toBlond.] Ze bill is all right.Cis.Good evening. [IntroducingMr. Posket.] My friend, Mr. Harvey Skinner, of the Stock Exchange.Blond.Very pleased to see you. [ToCis.] Are you going to enjoy yourselves?Cis.Rather.Blond.You usually eat in this room, but you don’t mind giving it up for to-night—now, do you?Cis.Oh, Achille!Blond.Come, come, to please me. A cab has just brought a letter from an old customer of mine, a gentlemanI haven’t seen for over twenty years, who wants to sup with a friend in this room to-night. It’s quite true. [GivingCisa letter.]Cis.[Reading to himself.] “19A, Cork Street. Dear Blond,—Fresh, or rather, stale from India—want to sup with my friend, Captain Vale, to-night, at my old table in my old room. Must do this for Auld Lang Syne. Yours, Alexander Lukyn.” [ToBlond.] Oh, let him have it. Where will you put us?Blond.You shall have the best room in the house, the one next to this. This room—pah! Come with me. [ToMr. Posket.] Have you known Mr. Farringdon for a long time?Mr. Posket.No, no. Not very long.Blond.Ah, he is a fine fellow—Mr. Farringdon. Now, if you please. You can go through this door.[Wheels sofa away and unlocks the door.Cis.[ToMr. Posket.] You’ll look better after a glass or two of Pommery, Guv.Mr. Posket.No, no, Cis—now, no champagne.Cis.No champagne, not for my friend, Harvey Skinner! Come, Guv—dig me in the ribs—like this. [Digging him in the ribs.] Chuck!Mr. Posket.[Shrinking.] Oh, don’t!Cis.And say, Hey! Go on, Guv.Mr. Posket.I can’t—I can’t. I don’t know what it may mean.Cis.[Digging him in the ribs again.] Go on—ch-uck!Mr. Posket.What, like this? [Returning the dig.] Ch-uck.Cis.That’s it, that’s it. Ha, ha! You are going it, Guv.Mr. Posket.Am I, Cis? Am I? [Waving his arm.] Hey!Cis and Mr. Posket.Hey!Cis.Ha, ha! Come on! Serve the supper, Achille.Blond.Ah! he is a grand fellow, Mr. Farringdon. [CisandMr. Posketgo into the other room.] [ToIsidore.] Replace thecanapé.[There is a sharp knock at the other door.BlondfollowsCisandMr. Posketinto the other room, then locks the door on the inside.Isidore.Come in, please.Colonel LukynandCaptain Valeenter the room.Lukynis a portly, grey-haired, good-looking military man;Valeis pale-faced and heavy-eyed, while his manner is languid and dejected.Lukyn.This is the room. Come in, Vale. This is my old supper-room—I haven’t set foot here for over twenty years. By George, I hope to sup here for another twenty.Vale.[Dejectedly.] Do you? In less than that, unless I am lucky enough to fall in some foreign set-to, I shall be in Kensal Green.Lukyn.[Looking round the room sentimentally.] Twenty years ago! Confound ’em, they’ve painted it.Vale.My people have eight shelves in the Catacombs at Kensal Green.Lukyn.Nonsense, man, nonsense. You’re a little low. Waiter, take our coats.Vale.Don’t check me, Lukyn. My shelf is four from the bottom.Lukyn.You’ll forget the number of your shelf before you’re half way through your oysters.Vale.[Shaking his head.] An oyster merely reminds me of my own particular shell.[Isidorebegins to removeVale’scoat.Lukyn.Ha, ha! Ha, ha!Vale.Don’t, Lukyn, don’t. [In an undertone toLukyn.] It’s very good of you, but, by Jove, my heart is broken. [ToIsidore.] Mind my flower, waiter, confound you.[He adjusts flower in his button-hole.Isidore.You have ordered supper, sir?Lukyn.Yes, on the back of my note to Mr. Blond. Serve it at once.Isidore.I beg your pardon, sir, at once.[He goes out.Lukyn.So, you’ve been badly treated by a woman, eh, Vale?Vale.Shockingly. Between man and man, a Miss Verrinder—Charlotte. [Turning away.] Excuse me, Lukyn.[Produces a folded silk handkerchief, shakes it out, and gently blows his nose.Lukyn.[Lighting a cigarette.] Certainly—certainly—does you great credit. Pretty woman?Vale.Oh, lovely! A most magnificent set of teeth. All real, as far as I can ascertain.Lukyn.No?Vale.Fact.Lukyn.Great loss;—have a cigarette.Vale.[Taking case fromLukyn.] Parascho’s?Lukyn.Yes. Was she—full grown?Vale.[Lighting his cigarette.] Just perfection. She rides eight-stone fifteen, and I have lost her, Lukyn. Beautiful tobacco.Lukyn.What finished it?Vale.She gave a man a pair of worked slippers three days after our engagement.Lukyn.No?Vale.Fact. You remember Bristow—Gordon Bristow?Lukyn.Perfectly. Best fellow in the world.Vale.He wears them.Lukyn.Villain! Will you begin with a light wine, or go right on to the champagne?Vale.By Jove, it’s broken my heart, old fellow. I’ll go right on to the champagne, please. Lukyn, I shall make you my executor.Lukyn.Pooh! You’ll outlive me! Why don’t they bring the supper? My heart has been broken like yours.It was broken first in Ireland in ’55. It was broken again in London in ’61, but in 1870 it was smashed in Calcutta, by a married lady that time.Vale.A married lady?Lukyn.Yes, my late wife. Talk about broken hearts, my boy, when you’ve won your lady, not when you’ve lost her. [EnterIsidorewith a tray of supper things.] The supper. [ToVale.] Hungry?Vale.[Mournfully.] Very.EnterBlond,with an envelope.Blond.Colonel Lukyn.Lukyn.Ah, Blond, how are you? Not a day older. What have you got there?Blond.[Quietly toLukynin an undertone.] Two ladies, Colonel, downstairs in a cab, must see you for a few minutes alone.Lukyn.Good gracious! Excuse me, Vale. [Takes the envelope fromBlond,and opens it: reading the enclosed card.] Mrs. Posket—Mrs. Posket! “Mrs. Posket entreats Colonel Lukyn to see her for five minutesupon a matter of urgent necessity, and free from observation.” By George! Posket must be ill in bed—I thought he looked seedy last night. [ToBlond.] Of course—of course. Say I’ll come down.Blond.It is raining outside. I had better ask them up.Lukyn.Do—do. I’ll get Captain Vale to step into another room. Be quick. Tell ’em I am quite alone.Blond.Yes, Colonel.[Hurries out.Cis.[In the next room rattling glasses and calling.] Waiter! Waiter! Waiter-r-r! Where the deuce are you?Isidore.Coming, sir, coming. I beg your pardon.[Bustles out.Lukyn.My dear Vale, I am dreadfully sorry to bother you. Two ladies, one the wife of a very old friend of mine, have followed me here and want half a dozen words with me alone. I am in your hands—how can I manage it?Vale.My dear fellow, don’t mention it. Let me go into another room.Lukyn.Thank you, very much. You’re so hungry too. Where’s the waiter? Confound him, he’s gone!Vale.All right. I’ll pop in here.[He passes behind sofa and tries the door leading into the other room.Cis.[Within.] What do you want? Who’s there?Vale.Occupied—never mind—I’ll find my way somewhere.[There is a knock;Valedraws back.Blond.[Without.] Colonel, are you alone? The ladies.Lukyn.One moment. Deuce take it, Vale! The ladies don’t want to be seen. By George—I remember. There’s a little balcony to that window; step out for a few moments—keep quiet—I shan’t detain you—it’s nothing important—husband must have had a fit or something.Vale.Oh, certainly!Lukyn.Good fellow—here’s your hat.[In his haste he fetches his own hat.Blond.[Outside, knocking.] Colonel, Colonel!Lukyn.One moment. [Giving his hat toVale.] Awfully sorry. You’re so hungry too. [Valeputs on the hat, which is much too large for him.] Ah, that’s my hat.Vale.My dear Lukyn—don’t mention it.[Opening the window and going out.Lukyn.[Drawing the curtain over the recess.] Just room for him to stand like a man in a sentry-box. Come in, Blond.Blondshows inAgathaandCharlotte,both wearing veils.Agatha Posket.[Agitated.] Oh, Colonel Lukyn!Lukyn.Pray compose yourself, pray compose yourself!Agatha Posket.What will you think?Lukyn.That I am perfectly enchanted.Agatha Posket.Thank you. [Pointing toCharlotte.] My sister.[LukynandCharlottebow.Lukyn.Be seated. Blond? [Softly to him.] Keep the waiter out till I ring—that’s all.[The loud pattering of rain is heard.Blond.Yes, Colonel.Lukyn.Good gracious, Blond! What’s that?Blond.The rain outside. It is cats and dogs.Lukyn.[Horrified.] By George, is it? [To himself, looking towards window.] Poor devil! [ToBlond.] There isn’t any method of getting off that balcony, is there?Blond.No—unless by getting on to it.Lukyn.What do you mean?Blond.It is not at all safe. Don’t use it.[Lukynstands horror-stricken;Blondgoes out. Heavy rain is heard.Lukyn.[After some nervous glances at the window, wiping perspiration from his forehead.] I am honoured, Mrs. Posket, by this visit—though for a moment—I can’t imagine——Agatha Posket.Colonel Lukyn, we drove to Cork Street to your lodgings, and there your servant told us you were supping at the Hotel des Princes, with a friend. No one will be shown into this room while we are here?Lukyn.No—we—ah—shall not be disturbed. [To himself.] Good heavens, suppose I never see him alive again!Agatha Posket.[Sighing wearily.] Ah!Lukyn.I’m afraid you’ve come to tell me Posket is ill.Agatha Posket.I—no—my husband is at home.[A sharp gust of wind is heard with the rain.Lukyn.Lord forgive me! I’ve killed him.Agatha Posket.[With horror.] Colonel Lukyn!Lukyn.Madam!Agatha Posket.Indeed Mr. Posket is at home.Lukyn.[Glancing at the window.] Is he? I wish we all were.Agatha Posket.[To herself.] Sunstroke evidently. Poor fellow! [ToLukyn.] I assure you my husband is at home, quite well, and by this time sleeping soundly.[CisandMr. Posketare heard laughing in the next room.Isidore.[Within.] You are two funny gentlemen, I beg your pardon.Agatha Posket.[Startled.] What is that?Lukyn.In the next room. [Raps at the door.] Hush—hush, hush!Charlotte.Get it over, Aggy, and let us go home. I am so awfully hungry.Lukyn.[Peering through the curtains.] It is still bearing him. What’s his weight? Surely he can’t scale over ten stone. Lord, how wet he is!Agatha Posket.Colonel Lukyn!Lukyn.[Leaving the window sharply.] Madam, command me!Agatha Posket.Colonel Lukyn, we knew each other at Baroda twenty years ago.Lukyn.When I look at you, impossible.Agatha Posket.Ah, then you mustn’t look at me.Lukyn.Equally impossible.Charlotte.
Agatha Posket.
This is for you, Charley—already.
[Wykegoes out.
Charlotte.
Spare my blushes, dear—it’s from Horace, Captain Vale. The dear wretch knew I was coming to you. Heigho! Will you excuse me?
Mr. Posket.
Certainly.
Agatha Posket.
Excuse me, please?
Charlotte.
Certainly, my dear.
Mr. Posket.
Certainly, my darling. Excuse me, won’t you?
Charlotte.
Oh, certainly.
Agatha Posket.
Certainly, Æneas.
[Simultaneously they all open their letters, and lean back and read.
Agatha Posket.
[Reading.] Lady Jenkins is not feeling very well.
Charlotte.
If Captain Horace Vale stood before me at this moment, I’d slap his face!
Agatha Posket.
Charlotte!
Charlotte.
[Reading.] “Dear Miss Verrinder,—Your desperate flirtation with Major Bristow at the Meet on Tuesday last, three days after our engagement, has just come to my knowledge. Your letters and gifts, including the gold-headed hair-pin given me at the Hunt Ball, shall be returned to-morrow. By Jove, all is over! Horace Vale.” Oh, dear!
Agatha Posket.
Oh, Charley, I’m so sorry! However, you can deny it.
Charlotte.
[Weeping.] That’s the worst of it, I can’t.
Mr. Posket.
[ToAgatha Posket.] My darling, you will be delighted. A note from Colonel Lukyn.
Agatha Posket.
Lukyn—Lukyn? I seem to know the name.
Mr. Posket.
An old schoolfellow of mine who went to India many years ago. He has just come home. I met him at the club last night and asked him to name an evening to dine with us. He accepts for to-morrow.
Agatha Posket.
Lukyn, Lukyn?
Mr. Posket.
Listen. [Reading.] “It will be especially delightful to me, as I believe I am an old friend of your wife and of her first husband. You may recall me to her recollection by reminding her that I am the Captain Lukyn who stood sponsor to her boy when he was christened at Baroda.”
Agatha Posket.
[Giving a loud scream.] Oh!
Mr. Posket.
My dear!
Agatha Posket.
I’ve twisted my foot.
Mr. Posket.
Howdonuts come into the drawing-room?
Charlotte.
[Quietly toAgatha Posket.] Aggy?
Agatha Posket.
[ToCharlotte.] The boy’s god-father.
Charlotte.
When was the child christened?
Agatha Posket.
A month after he was born. They always are.
Mr. Posket.
[Reading the letter again.] This isverypleasant.
Agatha Posket.
[ToMr. Posket.] Let—let me see the letter, I—I may recognise the handwriting.
Mr. Posket.
[Handing her the letter.] Certainly, my pet. [To himself.] Awakened memories of Number One. That’s the worst of marrying a widow; somebody is always proving her previous convictions.
Agatha Posket.
[ToCharlotte.] “No. 19a, Cork Street!” Charley, put on your things and come with me.
Charlotte.
Agatha, you’re mad!
Agatha Posket.
I’m going to shut this man’s mouth before he comes into this house to-morrow.
Charlotte.
Waittillhe comes.
Agatha Posket.
Yes, till he stalks in here with his “How d’ye do, Posket? Haven’t seen your wife since the year ’66, by Gad, sir!” Not I! Æneas!
Mr. Posket.
My dear.
Agatha Posket.
Lady Jenkins—Adelaide—is very ill; she can’t put her foot to the ground with neuralgia.
[Taking the letter from her pocket, and giving it to him.
Mr. Posket.
Bless me!
Agatha Posket.
We have known each other for six long years.
Mr. Posket.
Only six weeks, my love.
Agatha Posket.
Weeksareyears in close friendship. My place is by her side.
Mr. Posket.
[Reading the letter.] “Slightly indisposed, caught trifling cold at the Dog Show. Where do you buy your handkerchiefs?” There’s nothing about neuralgia or putting her foot to the ground here, my darling.
Agatha Posket.
No, but can’t you read between the lines, Æneas? That is the letter of a woman who is not at all well.
Mr. Posket.
All right, my darling, if you are bent upon going I will accompany you.
Agatha Posket.
Certainly not, Æneas—Charlotte insists on being my companion; we can keep each other warm in a closed cab.
Mr. Posket.
But can’t I make a third?
Agatha Posket.
Don’t be so forgetful, Æneas—don’t you know that in a four-wheeled cab, the fewer knees there are the better.
[Agatha PosketandCharlottego out.
Ciscomes in hurriedly.
Cis.
What’s the matter, Guv?
Mr. Posket.
Your mother and Miss Verrinder are going out.
Cis.
Out of their minds? It’s a horrid night.
Mr. Posket.
Yes, but Lady Jenkins is ill.
Cis.
Oh! Is ma mentioned in the will?
Mr. Posket.
Good gracious, what a boy! No, Cis, your mother is merely going to sit by Lady Jenkins’ bedside, to hold her hand, and to tell her where one goes to—to buy pocket-handkerchiefs.
Cis.
By Jove! The mater can’t be home again till half-past twelve or one o’clock.
Mr. Posket.
Much later if Lady Jenkins’ condition is alarming.
Cis.
Hurray! [He takes the watch out ofMr. Posket’spocket.] Just half-past ten. Greenwich mean, eh, Guv?
[He puts the watch to his ear, pullingMr. Poskettowards him by the chain.
Mr. Posket.
What an extraordinary lad!
Cis.
[Returning watch.] Thanks. They have to get from here to Campden Hill and back again. I’ll tell Wyke to get them the worst horse on the rank.
Mr. Posket.
My dear child!
Cis.
Three-quarters of an hour’s journey from here at least. Twice three-quarters, one hour and a half. An hour with Lady Jenkins—when women get together, you know, Guv, they do talk—that’s two hours and a half. Good. Guv, will you come with me?
Mr. Posket.
Go with you! Where?
Cis.
Hotel des Princes, Meek Street. A sharp hansom does it in ten minutes.
Mr. Posket.
Meek Street, Hotel des Princes! Child, do you know what you’re talking about?
Cis.
Rather. Look here, Guv, honour bright—no blab if I show you a letter.
Mr. Posket.
I won’t promise anything.
Cis.
You won’t! Do you know, Guv, you are doing a very unwise thing to check the confidence of a lad like me?
Mr. Posket.
Cis, my boy!
Cis.
Can you calculate the inestimable benefit it is to a youngster to have some one always at his elbow, some one older, wiser, and better off than himself?
Mr. Posket.
Of course, Cis, of course, Iwantyou to make a companion of me.
Cis.
Then how the deuce can I do that if you won’t come with me to Meek Street?
Mr. Posket.
Yes, but deceiving your mother!
Cis.
Deceivingthe mater would be to tell her a crammer—a thing, I hope, we’re both of us much above.
Mr. Posket.
Good boy, good boy.
Cis.
Concealingthe fact that we’re going to have a bit of supper at the Hotel des Princes, is doing my mother a great kindness, because it would upset her considerably to know of the circumstances. You’ve been wrong, Guv, but we won’t say anything more about that. Read the letter.
[GivesMr. Posketthe letter.
Mr. Posket.
[Reading in a dazed sort of a way.] “Hotel des Princes, Meek Street, W. Dear Sir,—Unless youdrop in and settle your arrears, I really cannot keep your room for you any longer. Yours obediently, Achille Blond. Cecil Farringdon, Esq.” Good heavens! You have a room at the Hotel das Princes!
Cis.
A room! It’s little better than a coop.
Mr. Posket.
You don’t occupy it?
Cis.
But my friends do. When I was at Brighton I was in with the best set—hope I always shall be. I left Brighton—nice hole I was in. You see, Guv, I didn’t want my friends to make free with your house.
Mr. Posket.
Oh, didn’t you?
Cis.
So I took a room at the Hotel des Princes—when I want to put a man up he goes there. You see, Guv, it’syouI’ve been considering more than myself.
Mr. Posket.
But you are a mere child.
Cis.
A fellow is just as old as he feels. I feel no end of a man. Hush, they’re coming down! I’m off to tell Wyke about the rickety four-wheeler.
Mr. Posket.
Cis, Cis! Your mother will discover I have been out.
Cis.
Oh, I forgot, you’re married, aren’t you?
Mr. Posket.
Married!
Cis.
Say you are going to the club.
Mr. Posket.
But that’s not the truth, sir!
Cis.
Yes it is. We’ll pop in at the club on our way, and you can give me a bitters.
[Goes out.
Mr. Posket.
Good gracious, what a boy! Hotel des Princes, Meek Street! What shall I do? Tell his mother? Why, it would turn her hair grey. If I could only get a quiet word with this Mr. Achille Blond, I could put a stop to everything. That is my best course, not to lose a moment in rescuing the child from his boyish indiscretion. Yes, I must go with Cis to Meek Street.
EnterAgatha PosketandCharlotte,elegantly dressed.
Agatha Posket.
Have you sent for a cab, Æneas?
Mr. Posket.
Cis is looking after that.
Agatha Posket.
Poor Cis! How late we keep him up.
Ciscomes in.
Cis.
Wyke has gone for a cab, ma dear.
Agatha Posket.
Thank you, Cis darling.
Cis.
If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go to my room. I’ve another bad headache coming on.
Agatha Posket.
[Kissing him.] Run along, my boy.
Cis.
Good-night, ma. Good-night, Aunt Charlotte.
Charlotte.
Good-night, Cis.
Agatha Posket.
[To herself.] I wish the cab would come.
[Agatha PosketandCharlottelook out of the window.
Cis.
[At the door.] Ahem! Good-night, Guv.
Mr. Posket.
You’ve told a story—two, sir! You said you were going up to your room.
Cis.
So I am—to dress.
Mr. Posket.
You said you had a bad headache coming on.
Cis.
So I have, Guv. I always get a bad headache at the Hotel des Princes.
[Goes out.
Mr. Posket.
Oh, what a boy!
Agatha Posket.
[To herself.] When will that cab come?
Mr. Posket.
Ahem! My pet, the idea has struck me that, as you are going out, it would not be a bad notion for me to pop into my club.
Agatha Posket.
The club! You were there last night.
Mr. Posket.
I know, my darling. Many men look in at their clubs every night.
Agatha Posket.
A nice example for Cis, truly! I particularly desire that you should remain at home to-night, Æneas.
Mr. Posket.
[To himself.] Oh, dear me!
Charlotte.
[ToAgatha Posket.] Why not let him go to the club, Agatha?
Agatha Posket.
He might meet Colonel Lukyn there.
Charlotte.
If Colonel Lukyn is there we shan’t find him in Cork Street!
Agatha Posket.
Then we follow him to the club.
Charlotte.
Ladies never call at a club.
Agatha Posket.
Such things have been known.
Wykeenters.
Wyke.
[Grinning behind his hand.] The cab is coming, ma’am.
Agatha Posket.
Coming? Why didn’t you bring it with you?
Wyke.
I walk quicker than the cab, ma’am. It’s a good horse, slow, but very certain.
Agatha Posket.
We will come down.
Wyke.
[To himself.] Just what the horse has done. [ToAgatha Posket.] Yes, ma’am.
[Wykegoes out.
Agatha Posket.
Good-night, Æneas.
Mr. Posket.
[Nervously.] I wish you would allow me to go to the club, my pet.
Agatha Posket.
Æneas, I am surprised at your obstinacy. It is so very different from my first husband.
Mr. Posket.
Really, Agatha, I am shocked. I presume the late Mr. Farringdon occasionally used his clubs.
Agatha Posket.
Indian clubs. Indian clubs are good for the liver, London clubs are not. Good-night!
Mr. Posket.
I’ll see you to your cab, Agatha.
Agatha Posket.
No, thank you.
Mr. Posket.
Upon my word!
Charlotte.
[ToAgatha Posket.] Why not?
Agatha Posket.
He would want to give the direction to the cabman!
Charlotte.
The first tiff. [ToMr. Posket.] Good-night, Mr. Posket.
Mr. Posket.
Good-night, Miss Verrinder.
Agatha Posket.
[ToMr. Posket.] Have you any message for Lady Jenkins?
Mr. Posket.
Confound Lady Jenkins.
Agatha Posket.
I will deliver your message in the presence of Sir George, who, I may remind you, is the permanent Secretary at the Home Office.
[Agatha PosketandCharlottego out;Mr. Posketpaces up and down excitedly.
Mr. Posket.
Gurrh? I’m not to go to the club! I set a bad example to Cis! Ha! ha! I am different from her first husband. Yes, I am—I’m alive for one thing. I—I—I—I—I’m dashed if I don’t go out with the boy.
Cis.
[Putting his head in at the door.] Coast clear, Guv? All right.
EnterCis,in fashionable evening dress, carryingMr. Posket’sovercoat and hat.
Cis.
Here are your hat and overcoat.
Mr. Posket.
Where on earth did you get that dress suit?
Cis.
Mum’s the word, Guv. Brighton tailor—six months’ credit. He promised to send in the bill to you, so the mater won’t know. [PuttingMr. Posket’shat on his head.] By Jove, Guv, don’t my togs show you up?
Mr. Posket.
I won’t go, I won’t go. I’ve never met such a boy before.
Cis.
[Proceeds to help him with his overcoat.] Mind your arm, Guv. You’ve got your hand in a pocket. No, no—that’s a tear in the lining. That’s it.
Mr. Posket.
I forbid you to go out!
Cis.
Yes, Guv. And I forbid you to eat any of those devilled oysters we shall get at the Hotel des Princes. Now you’re right!
Mr. Posket.
I am not right!
Cis.
Oh, I forgot! [He pulls out a handful of loose money.] I found this money in your desk, Guv. You had better take it out with you; you may want it. Here you are—gold, silver, and coppers. [He empties the money intoMr. Posket’sovercoat pocket.] One last precaution, and then we’re off.
[Goes to the writing-table, and writes on a half-sheet of note-paper.
Mr. Posket.
I shall take a turn round the Square, and then come home again! I will not be influenced by a mere child! A man of my responsible position—a magistrate—supping slily at the Hotel des Princes, in Meek Street—it’s horrible.
Cis.
Now, then—we’ll creep downstairs quietly so as not to bring Wyke from his pantry. [GivingMr. Posketpaper.] You stick that up prominently, while I blow out the candles.
[Cisblows out the candles on the piano.
Mr. Posket.
[Reading.] “Your master and Mr. Cecil Farringdon are going to bed. Don’t disturb them.” I will not be a partner to any written document. This is untrue.
Cis.
No, it isn’t—we are going to bed when we come home. Make haste, Guv.
Mr. Posket.
Oh, what a boy.
[Pinning the paper on to the curtain.
Cis.
[Turning down the lamp, and watchingMr. Posket.] Hallo, Guv! hallo! You’re an old hand at this sort of game, are you?
Mr. Posket.
How dare you!
Cis.
[TakingMr. Posket’sarm.] Now, then, don’t breathe.
Mr. Posket.
[Quite demoralised.] Cis! Cis! Wait a minute—wait a minute!
Cis.
Hold up, Guv. [Wykeenters.] Oh, bother!
Wyke.
[ToMr. Posket.] Going out, sir?
Mr. Posket.
[Struggling to be articulate.] No—yes—that is—partially—half round the Square, and possibly—er—um—back again. [ToCis.] Oh, you bad boy!
Wyke.
[Coolly going up to the paper on curtains.] Shall I take this down now, sir?
Mr. Posket.
[Quietly toCis.] I’m in an awful position! What am I to do?
Cis.
Do as I do—tip him.
Mr. Posket.
What!
Cis.
Tip him.
Mr. Posket.
Oh, yes—yes. Where’s my money?
[Cistakes two coins out ofMr. Posket’spocket and gives them to him without looking at them.
Cis.
[ToMr. Posket.] Give him that.
Mr. Posket.
Yes.
Cis.
And say—“Wyke, you want a new umbrella—buy a very good one. Your mistress has a latch-key, so go to bed.”
Mr. Posket.
Wyke!
Wyke.
Yes, sir.
Mr. Posket.
[Giving him money.] Go to bed—buy a very good one. Your mistress has a latch-key—so—so you want a new umbrella!
Wyke.
All right, sir. You can depend on me. Are you well muffled up, sir? Mind you take care of him, Master Cis.
Cis.
[SupportingMr. Posket;Mr. Posketgroaning softly.] Capital, Guv, capital. Are you hungry?
Mr. Posket.
Hungry! You’re a wicked boy. I’ve told a falsehood.
Cis.
No, you haven’t, Guv—he really does want a new umbrella.
Mr. Posket.
Does he, Cis? Does he? Thank heaven!
[They go out.
Wyke.
[Looking at money] Here! What, twopence! [Throws the coins down in disgust.] I’ll tell the missus.
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
The scene is a supper-room at the Hotel des Princes, Meek Street, with two doors—the one leading into an adjoining room, the other into a passage—and a window opening on to a balcony.
Isidore,a French waiter, is showing inCisandMr. Posket.
Cis.
Come on, Guv—come on. How are you, Isidore?
Isidore.
I beg your pardon—I am quite well, and so are you, zank you.
Cis.
I want a pretty little light supper for myself and my friend, Mr. Skinner.
Isidore.
Mr. Skinner.
Mr. Posket.
[ToCis.] Skinner! Is some one else coming?
Cis.
No, no. You’re Skinner.
Mr. Posket.
Oh!
[Wanders round the room.
Cis.
Mr. Skinner, of the Stock Exchange. What have you ready?
Isidore.
[In an undertone toCis.] I beg your pardon—very good—but Monsieur Blond he say to me, “Isidore, listen now; if Mr. Farringdon he come here, you say, I beg your pardon, you are a nice gentleman, but will you pay your little account when it is quite convenient, before you leave the house at once.”
Cis.
Quite so, there’s no difficulty about that. What’s the bill?
Isidore.
[Gives the bill.] I beg your pardon. Eight pounds four shillings.
Cis.
Phew! Here go my winnings from old Bullamy and the Guv. [Counting out money.] Two pounds short. [Turning toMr. Posket,who is carefully examining the scratches on the mirrors.] Skinner! Skinner!
Mr. Posket.
Visitors evidently scratch their names on the mirrors. Dear me! Surely this is a spurious title—“Lottie, Duchess of Fulham!” How very curious!
Cis.
Skinner, got any money with you?
Mr. Posket.
Yes, Cis, my boy.
[Feels for his money.
Cis.
You always keep it in that pocket, Skinner.
Mr. Posket.
[Taking out money.] Oh, yes.
[Cistakes two sovereigns fromMr. Posketand gives the amount of his bill toIsidore,who goes to the sideboard to count out change.
Cis.
No putting the change to bed, Isidore,
Mr. Posket.
What’s that?
Cis.
Putting the change to bed! Isidore will show you. [ToIsidore,who comes to them with the change and the bill on a plate.] Isidore, show Mr. Skinner how you put silver to bed.
Isidore.
Oh, Mr. Farringdon, I beg your pardon—no, no!
Mr. Posket.
It would be most instructive.
Isidore.
Very good. [Goes to the table, upon which he puts plate.] Say I have to give you change sixteen shillings.
Mr. Posket.
Certainly.
Isidore.
Very good. Before I bring it to you I slip a little half-crown under the bill—so. Then I put what is left on the top of the bill, and I say, “I beg your pardon, your change.” You take it, you give me two shillings for myself, and all is right.
Mr. Posket.
[Counting the silver on the bill with the end of his glasses.] Yes, but suppose I count the silver, it is half-a-crown short!
Isidore.
Then I say, “I beg your pardon, how dare you say that?” Then I do so. [He pulls the bill from the plate.] Then I say, “The bill is eight pounds four shillings [handing the plate], count again.”
Mr. Posket.
Ah, of course, it’s all right now.
Isidore.
Very good, then you give me five shillings for doubting me. Do it; do it.
Mr. Posket.
[In a daze, giving him the five shillings.] Like this?
Isidore.
Yes, like that. [Slipping the money into his pocket.] I beg your pardon—thank you. [HandingCisthe rest of the change.] Your change, Mr. Farringdon.
Cis.
Oh, I say, Isidore.
Blond,a fat, middle-aged French hotel-keeper, enters with a letter in his hand.
Isidore.
Monsieur Blond.
Blond.
Good evening, Mr. Farringdon.
Isidore.
[Quietly toBlond.] Ze bill is all right.
Cis.
Good evening. [IntroducingMr. Posket.] My friend, Mr. Harvey Skinner, of the Stock Exchange.
Blond.
Very pleased to see you. [ToCis.] Are you going to enjoy yourselves?
Cis.
Rather.
Blond.
You usually eat in this room, but you don’t mind giving it up for to-night—now, do you?
Cis.
Oh, Achille!
Blond.
Come, come, to please me. A cab has just brought a letter from an old customer of mine, a gentlemanI haven’t seen for over twenty years, who wants to sup with a friend in this room to-night. It’s quite true. [GivingCisa letter.]
Cis.
[Reading to himself.] “19A, Cork Street. Dear Blond,—Fresh, or rather, stale from India—want to sup with my friend, Captain Vale, to-night, at my old table in my old room. Must do this for Auld Lang Syne. Yours, Alexander Lukyn.” [ToBlond.] Oh, let him have it. Where will you put us?
Blond.
You shall have the best room in the house, the one next to this. This room—pah! Come with me. [ToMr. Posket.] Have you known Mr. Farringdon for a long time?
Mr. Posket.
No, no. Not very long.
Blond.
Ah, he is a fine fellow—Mr. Farringdon. Now, if you please. You can go through this door.
[Wheels sofa away and unlocks the door.
Cis.
[ToMr. Posket.] You’ll look better after a glass or two of Pommery, Guv.
Mr. Posket.
No, no, Cis—now, no champagne.
Cis.
No champagne, not for my friend, Harvey Skinner! Come, Guv—dig me in the ribs—like this. [Digging him in the ribs.] Chuck!
Mr. Posket.
[Shrinking.] Oh, don’t!
Cis.
And say, Hey! Go on, Guv.
Mr. Posket.
I can’t—I can’t. I don’t know what it may mean.
Cis.
[Digging him in the ribs again.] Go on—ch-uck!
Mr. Posket.
What, like this? [Returning the dig.] Ch-uck.
Cis.
That’s it, that’s it. Ha, ha! You are going it, Guv.
Mr. Posket.
Am I, Cis? Am I? [Waving his arm.] Hey!
Cis and Mr. Posket.
Hey!
Cis.
Ha, ha! Come on! Serve the supper, Achille.
Blond.
Ah! he is a grand fellow, Mr. Farringdon. [CisandMr. Posketgo into the other room.] [ToIsidore.] Replace thecanapé.
[There is a sharp knock at the other door.BlondfollowsCisandMr. Posketinto the other room, then locks the door on the inside.
Isidore.
Come in, please.
Colonel LukynandCaptain Valeenter the room.Lukynis a portly, grey-haired, good-looking military man;Valeis pale-faced and heavy-eyed, while his manner is languid and dejected.
Lukyn.
This is the room. Come in, Vale. This is my old supper-room—I haven’t set foot here for over twenty years. By George, I hope to sup here for another twenty.
Vale.
[Dejectedly.] Do you? In less than that, unless I am lucky enough to fall in some foreign set-to, I shall be in Kensal Green.
Lukyn.
[Looking round the room sentimentally.] Twenty years ago! Confound ’em, they’ve painted it.
Vale.
My people have eight shelves in the Catacombs at Kensal Green.
Lukyn.
Nonsense, man, nonsense. You’re a little low. Waiter, take our coats.
Vale.
Don’t check me, Lukyn. My shelf is four from the bottom.
Lukyn.
You’ll forget the number of your shelf before you’re half way through your oysters.
Vale.
[Shaking his head.] An oyster merely reminds me of my own particular shell.
[Isidorebegins to removeVale’scoat.
Lukyn.
Ha, ha! Ha, ha!
Vale.
Don’t, Lukyn, don’t. [In an undertone toLukyn.] It’s very good of you, but, by Jove, my heart is broken. [ToIsidore.] Mind my flower, waiter, confound you.
[He adjusts flower in his button-hole.
Isidore.
You have ordered supper, sir?
Lukyn.
Yes, on the back of my note to Mr. Blond. Serve it at once.
Isidore.
I beg your pardon, sir, at once.
[He goes out.
Lukyn.
So, you’ve been badly treated by a woman, eh, Vale?
Vale.
Shockingly. Between man and man, a Miss Verrinder—Charlotte. [Turning away.] Excuse me, Lukyn.
[Produces a folded silk handkerchief, shakes it out, and gently blows his nose.
Lukyn.
[Lighting a cigarette.] Certainly—certainly—does you great credit. Pretty woman?
Vale.
Oh, lovely! A most magnificent set of teeth. All real, as far as I can ascertain.
Lukyn.
No?
Vale.
Fact.
Lukyn.
Great loss;—have a cigarette.
Vale.
[Taking case fromLukyn.] Parascho’s?
Lukyn.
Yes. Was she—full grown?
Vale.
[Lighting his cigarette.] Just perfection. She rides eight-stone fifteen, and I have lost her, Lukyn. Beautiful tobacco.
Lukyn.
What finished it?
Vale.
She gave a man a pair of worked slippers three days after our engagement.
Lukyn.
No?
Vale.
Fact. You remember Bristow—Gordon Bristow?
Lukyn.
Perfectly. Best fellow in the world.
Vale.
He wears them.
Lukyn.
Villain! Will you begin with a light wine, or go right on to the champagne?
Vale.
By Jove, it’s broken my heart, old fellow. I’ll go right on to the champagne, please. Lukyn, I shall make you my executor.
Lukyn.
Pooh! You’ll outlive me! Why don’t they bring the supper? My heart has been broken like yours.It was broken first in Ireland in ’55. It was broken again in London in ’61, but in 1870 it was smashed in Calcutta, by a married lady that time.
Vale.
A married lady?
Lukyn.
Yes, my late wife. Talk about broken hearts, my boy, when you’ve won your lady, not when you’ve lost her. [EnterIsidorewith a tray of supper things.] The supper. [ToVale.] Hungry?
Vale.
[Mournfully.] Very.
EnterBlond,with an envelope.
Blond.
Colonel Lukyn.
Lukyn.
Ah, Blond, how are you? Not a day older. What have you got there?
Blond.
[Quietly toLukynin an undertone.] Two ladies, Colonel, downstairs in a cab, must see you for a few minutes alone.
Lukyn.
Good gracious! Excuse me, Vale. [Takes the envelope fromBlond,and opens it: reading the enclosed card.] Mrs. Posket—Mrs. Posket! “Mrs. Posket entreats Colonel Lukyn to see her for five minutesupon a matter of urgent necessity, and free from observation.” By George! Posket must be ill in bed—I thought he looked seedy last night. [ToBlond.] Of course—of course. Say I’ll come down.
Blond.
It is raining outside. I had better ask them up.
Lukyn.
Do—do. I’ll get Captain Vale to step into another room. Be quick. Tell ’em I am quite alone.
Blond.
Yes, Colonel.
[Hurries out.
Cis.
[In the next room rattling glasses and calling.] Waiter! Waiter! Waiter-r-r! Where the deuce are you?
Isidore.
Coming, sir, coming. I beg your pardon.
[Bustles out.
Lukyn.
My dear Vale, I am dreadfully sorry to bother you. Two ladies, one the wife of a very old friend of mine, have followed me here and want half a dozen words with me alone. I am in your hands—how can I manage it?
Vale.
My dear fellow, don’t mention it. Let me go into another room.
Lukyn.
Thank you, very much. You’re so hungry too. Where’s the waiter? Confound him, he’s gone!
Vale.
All right. I’ll pop in here.
[He passes behind sofa and tries the door leading into the other room.
Cis.
[Within.] What do you want? Who’s there?
Vale.
Occupied—never mind—I’ll find my way somewhere.
[There is a knock;Valedraws back.
Blond.
[Without.] Colonel, are you alone? The ladies.
Lukyn.
One moment. Deuce take it, Vale! The ladies don’t want to be seen. By George—I remember. There’s a little balcony to that window; step out for a few moments—keep quiet—I shan’t detain you—it’s nothing important—husband must have had a fit or something.
Vale.
Oh, certainly!
Lukyn.
Good fellow—here’s your hat.
[In his haste he fetches his own hat.
Blond.
[Outside, knocking.] Colonel, Colonel!
Lukyn.
One moment. [Giving his hat toVale.] Awfully sorry. You’re so hungry too. [Valeputs on the hat, which is much too large for him.] Ah, that’s my hat.
Vale.
My dear Lukyn—don’t mention it.
[Opening the window and going out.
Lukyn.
[Drawing the curtain over the recess.] Just room for him to stand like a man in a sentry-box. Come in, Blond.
Blondshows inAgathaandCharlotte,both wearing veils.
Agatha Posket.
[Agitated.] Oh, Colonel Lukyn!
Lukyn.
Pray compose yourself, pray compose yourself!
Agatha Posket.
What will you think?
Lukyn.
That I am perfectly enchanted.
Agatha Posket.
Thank you. [Pointing toCharlotte.] My sister.
[LukynandCharlottebow.
Lukyn.
Be seated. Blond? [Softly to him.] Keep the waiter out till I ring—that’s all.
[The loud pattering of rain is heard.
Blond.
Yes, Colonel.
Lukyn.
Good gracious, Blond! What’s that?
Blond.
The rain outside. It is cats and dogs.
Lukyn.
[Horrified.] By George, is it? [To himself, looking towards window.] Poor devil! [ToBlond.] There isn’t any method of getting off that balcony, is there?
Blond.
No—unless by getting on to it.
Lukyn.
What do you mean?
Blond.
It is not at all safe. Don’t use it.
[Lukynstands horror-stricken;Blondgoes out. Heavy rain is heard.
Lukyn.
[After some nervous glances at the window, wiping perspiration from his forehead.] I am honoured, Mrs. Posket, by this visit—though for a moment—I can’t imagine——
Agatha Posket.
Colonel Lukyn, we drove to Cork Street to your lodgings, and there your servant told us you were supping at the Hotel des Princes, with a friend. No one will be shown into this room while we are here?
Lukyn.
No—we—ah—shall not be disturbed. [To himself.] Good heavens, suppose I never see him alive again!
Agatha Posket.
[Sighing wearily.] Ah!
Lukyn.
I’m afraid you’ve come to tell me Posket is ill.
Agatha Posket.
I—no—my husband is at home.
[A sharp gust of wind is heard with the rain.
Lukyn.
Lord forgive me! I’ve killed him.
Agatha Posket.
[With horror.] Colonel Lukyn!
Lukyn.
Madam!
Agatha Posket.
Indeed Mr. Posket is at home.
Lukyn.
[Glancing at the window.] Is he? I wish we all were.
Agatha Posket.
[To herself.] Sunstroke evidently. Poor fellow! [ToLukyn.] I assure you my husband is at home, quite well, and by this time sleeping soundly.
[CisandMr. Posketare heard laughing in the next room.
Isidore.
[Within.] You are two funny gentlemen, I beg your pardon.
Agatha Posket.
[Startled.] What is that?
Lukyn.
In the next room. [Raps at the door.] Hush—hush, hush!
Charlotte.
Get it over, Aggy, and let us go home. I am so awfully hungry.
Lukyn.
[Peering through the curtains.] It is still bearing him. What’s his weight? Surely he can’t scale over ten stone. Lord, how wet he is!
Agatha Posket.
Colonel Lukyn!
Lukyn.
[Leaving the window sharply.] Madam, command me!
Agatha Posket.
Colonel Lukyn, we knew each other at Baroda twenty years ago.
Lukyn.
When I look at you, impossible.
Agatha Posket.
Ah, then you mustn’t look at me.
Lukyn.
Equally impossible.
Charlotte.