by Tony Medawar
JULIUS: (a self-confident, middle-aged baritone) And I’m quite ready for tea! It’s what one needs on a cold day like this.
LORD WARBECK: Ah, Julius! You have finished grinding the faces of the rich for the day, I hope. No need to introduce you to anybody here, I think.
JULIUS: I should think not! Camilla, you are looking more lovely than ever.
CAMILLA: Thank you! (Laughs) I’m glad somebody notices it!
JULIUS: And Mrs Barrett—your husband is doing a wonderful job for us in the negotiations at Washington.
MRS BARRETT: That doesn’t surprise me, Sir Julius. I know he has the best financial brain in Parliament, even if—
JULIUS: Even if I’m the Chancellor of the Exchequer and he isn’t, Mrs Barrett? Never mind, his time will come. We are all mortal, you know. Oh, Robert, I hadn’t seen you, how are you?
ROBERT: (very coldly) How do you do?
JULIUS: You’ve only just arrived?
ROBERT: Yes. I had an important meeting in London yesterday.
JULIUS: Quite. The League of Liberty and Justice, I suppose?
ROBERT: (defiantly) And suppose it was? Is that any concern of yours?
JULIUS: I think it is the concern of everybody in this country who cares for democracy.
ROBERT: You call the present regime ‘democracy’!
BRIGGS: Your tea, my lord.
LORD WARBECK: Thank you, Briggs. Put it here. No, no, man, here. Camilla, will you pour out for the rest? You have no idea how I envy people who can sit up to their meals! To have to feed lying down is the most messy, uncomfortable process I know.
CAMILLA: Let me arrange the cushions for you. That’s better, isn’t it? Does this mean that you won’t be dining with us this evening?
LORD WARBECK: It does, Camilla. I shall, I trust, be asleep long before you have seen Christmas in. Robert will be your host on my behalf. I hope you don’t mind.
CAMILLA: Not if Robert doesn’t. Do you take sugar, Mrs Barrett?
MRS BARRETT: Two lumps, please. And that reminds me, Sir Julius—the increased duties on sugar. My husband feels very strongly that it would be a great mistake—
ROBERT: (abruptly) I don’t think I want any tea. If I’m to preside at this festive affair tonight, I think I’d better have a word with Briggs about the wine.
MRS BARRETT: Well, really! As I was saying, Sir Julius, the sugar duties …
(Her voice fades. Microphone follows Robert)
ROBERT: I shall be in the smoking room if you want me, father.
(Door closes)
God! What a woman!
(He is heard to take a couple of steps)
Hullo! Who are you? Where do you come from?
ROGERS: (clipped, official voice) The name is Rogers, sir.
ROBERT: What are you doing hanging about in the passage?
ROGERS: Well, sir, hanging about is my job. My card, sir.
ROBERT: (reading) ‘Metropolitan Police. Special Branch. James Rogers holds the rank of Sergeant in the Metropolitan Police. This is his warrant and authority for executing the duties of his office.’ So that’s it! Haven’t I seen you before, at some time?
ROGERS: Yes, sir. On Sunday, September the 20th, between the hours of eight and ten p.m.
ROBERT: What?
ROGERS: Open air meeting, League of Liberty and Justice, sir. I was on duty.
ROBERT: That explains it. And now you’ve been sent down here to continue your spying, eh?
ROGERS: Oh no, sir. I’m on protection duty—looking after Sir Julius.
ROBERT: Protection! He needs it! I can tell you, when our movement comes into power, fellows like you will be out of a job.
ROGERS: Oh no, sir. That’s what Sir Julius’s crowd used to say. You’ll want protection just the same. They all do.
BRIGGS: Excuse me, sir. Mr Rogers, your tea is awaiting you in the housekeeper’s room.
ROGERS: Thank you, Mr Briggs. I’ll go now.
(He is heard to walk away)
BRIGGS: Pardon me, Mr Robert. May I have a word with you?
ROBERT: Yes, if you must, Briggs.
BRIGGS: If you wouldn’t mind stepping into the smoking-room, sir.
(Sound of steps and door closing)
ROBERT: Well?
BRIGGS: My daughter Susan, sir, is wondering—
ROBERT: Look here, Briggs, what on earth is the good of bringing up this business again now? You know what the position is as well as I do. I have promised you before and I can promise you now—
BRIGGS: Promises are all very well, Mr Robert, but that was some time ago and Christmas is upon us.
ROBERT: Yes, Christmas, with my father dangerously ill and the house full of people. It’s utterly unreasonable to expect me to do anything now, Briggs. Things must go on as they are for the time being. After all, Susan isn’t here and—
BRIGGS: Susan is here, Mr Robert.
ROBERT: Here! Of all the infernal cheek! What do you mean by doing such a thing, Briggs?
BRIGGS: Well, sir, Christmas is the season for family reunions—even for butlers.
ROBERT: Confound you! I suppose you thought this was a way of applying a little extra pressure?
BRIGGS: I trust that may not be necessary, sir. I—we—are relying on you to act like a gentleman.
(Bell rings)
Excuse me, I think that is his lordship’s bell.
(Sound of door opening)
I beg your ladyship’s pardon, I didn’t see you coming in.
CAMILLA: Oh, Briggs, Lord Warbeck wants you to help him up to bed. He is rather tired.
BRIGGS: Very good, my lady.
(Sound of door closing)
ROBERT: I don’t wonder father’s tired if he’s been listening to Mrs Barrett and Julius discussing the sugar duties.
CAMILLA: He managed to stand it longer than you, Robert, at any rate. Well, did the great discussion with Briggs go off satisfactorily?
ROBERT: Discussion, Camilla? What should we have a discussion about?
CAMILLA: About the wine for dinner tonight. I thought it was that that dragged you away from tea so reluctantly.
ROBERT: Oh, the wine! Yes, that’s—that’s laid on all right.
CAMILLA: I hope there’s plenty. I mean to drink a lot tonight. I mean to get positively, completely blotto.
ROBERT: That will add enormously to your attractions.
CAMILLA: Well, they want adding to, don’t they? I mean, they don’t seem to have been very effective so far. (Pause) Robert, what is the matter with you?
ROBERT: Nothing, so far as I am aware.
CAMILLA: There is something, Robert. I wish you’d tell me. Can’t you see I—I want to help you?
ROBERT: No thanks.
CAMILLA: Robert, you usen’t to be like this. Something’s happened. Something’s come between us. I can’t let you go like this. Look at me, Robert!
ROBERT: Leave go of me, Camilla! I warn you, leave go!
CAMILLA: Not until you’ve told me what it is. It’s not too much to ask, to share your troubles, is it? Oh, Robert, if you only knew how I want—
ROBERT: (brutally) You want, you want! I know what you want, even if you don’t!
CAMILLA: You’re hurting me!
ROBERT: You want to be kissed—like this! (Pause) And this—and this! That’s all for now, my lovely! I hope you’re satisfied.
CAMILLA: Oh, you’re hateful! hateful! I could kill you for this!
(Door closes with a bang)
NARRATOR: It is shortly before midnight. Sir Julius Warbeck, Mrs Barrett, Robert and Lady Camilla are in the drawing-room. All four have evidently dined well. Their faces are rather flushed and `Lord Warbeck’s excellent champagne has loosened their tongues. They have just finished a rubber of bridge and Sir Julius is adding up the scores.
(Chatter)
JULIUS: Let me see … Eight and six is fourteen, and carry one … That makes one pound four and five pence they owe us, Mrs Barrett. My congratulations!
MRS BARRETT: I’m sure you’ve added that up wrong! Give it to me. Seven and four’s eleven, and ten’s twenty-one—I told you so, it should be one pound four and ninepence! A pretty sort of Chancellor of the Exchequer you are!
JULIUS: (laughs) Well, well, one needn’t be a dab at arithmetic to handle the state’s finances, thank heaven! There was a Chancellor once who didn’t know what decimal points were, and when he saw them—
MRS BARRETT: Yes, yes, Sir Julius, we all know that story. It’s been the stock excuse of inefficient Chancellors ever since.
JULIUS: Are you suggesting that I am inefficient, Mrs Barrett?
MRS BARRETT: Oh no! I’m not suggesting anything.
JULIUS: Because if so, I was only going to say, that doesn’t seem to be the view of that very loyal collaborator and colleague, your husband.
MRS BARRETT: My husband is loyal, Sir Julius—too loyal, I sometimes think, to consider his own interests. But since his name has been introduced into the discussion, may I say that I am sure I am not alone in regretting that the country’s finances are not in his hands, instead of—
JULIUS: Instead of those of your humble servant, eh, Mrs Barrett? Well, well, it’s all in the luck of the game. I can only say this, that should anything happen to our revered Prime Minister—which Heaven forfend—and it were to fall to me to form an administration, as it might—as it might—I should not need to look for my Chancellor beyond my old friend John Barrett.
ROBERT: (somewhat tipsy) Hear, hear, Julius! Hear, hear!
CAMILLA: Did you say one pound four and ninepence, Mrs Barrett? I’ve got it here exactly.
(Chink of coins)
MRS BARRETT: How honourable of you!
ROBERT: Afraid I haven’t any cash on me, Julius. It’s a commodity rather scarce in this branch of the family. Will you take a cheque?
JULIUS: Of course, my dear boy, of course.
ROBERT: All right, I’ll give you one. You don’t mind it’s being drawn on the account of the League of Liberty and Justice, I suppose?
JULIUS: Really, this is an outrage! To suggest that I should take money from such a gang! Let me tell you, young man, your association with this so-called League is putting you in danger—in grave danger.
ROBERT: Thanks for the warning, dear cousin. At any rate, I don’t need a flat-footed copper to give me protection. Where is he, by the way? Lurking outside the door, I suppose, with his little notebook and pencil in his hand. Let’s have him in! Perhaps he’d lend me one pound four and ninepence!
CAMILLA: Robert, don’t be so silly! I’ll pay Sir Julius for you, if you like.
ROBERT: What a beautifully forgiving nature you have, Camilla! Almost thou persuadest me—but don’t stand just there. You’re right under the mistletoe, and I’m sure you don’t want a repetition of this afternoon’s sad scene. Let me get at the door.
(Sound of door opening)
Oh! It’s you, Briggs!
BRIGGS: Yes, Mr Robert. It only wants a few minutes to midnight. I’ve brought the champagne to drink in the festive season.
ROBERT: That’s the spirit! Let’s keep up tradition while we may! The last Christmas in the old home—thanks to cousin Julius! Fill up the glasses, Briggs, and give yourself one, too.
BRIGGS: Very good, Mr Robert.
(Pop of champagne cork and sound of pouring)
ROBERT: Where’s the protecting angel, Briggs? He ought to be in on this.
BRIGGS: The detective-sergeant, sir, is refreshing himself in the servants’ hall. I think that he will be more at home there. Your glass, my lady.
CAMILLA: Thank you.
BRIGGS: And yours, madam.
MRS BARRETT: Thank you.
BRIGGS: Sir Julius.
JULIUS: Thanks.
BRIGGS: Mr Robert, your glass. (Meaningfully) It is almost time.
ROBERT: (more and more wildly) Time marches on! But we’ve forgotten something, Briggs. The curtains are still drawn and the window shut. That won’t do on Christmas Eve. We’ve got to let Christmas in!
BRIGGS: It’s bitter cold outside, sir, and snowing hard.
ROBERT: What does that matter, man? There’s a tradition at stake! Let’s have those curtains back—
(Sound of pulling curtains)
—and the window open.
(Sound of opening window)
Now, hark! Can’t you hear them? (Pause) Come close to the window, everybody. Closer! Camilla! Briggs! Lean out, everyone! Come on, Julius, the cold air won’t hurt you! Can you hear them now?
(Distant sound of church bells)
Warbeck chimes! Ringing in Christmas, ringing out the Warbecks! Except for fat cousin Julius, who’ll always be in on everything! Now listen, all of you! I’ve an announcement to make! An important announcement! You mustn’t miss it, Camilla!
(As he speaks a clock begins to chime the hour. It continues to strike twelve during the rest of the scene)
Christmas! We must have our toast first. Where the hell’s my glass? Someone’s moved it. Where did I leave my glass, Briggs?
BRIGGS: It’s on the card table, Mr Robert.
ROBERT: Ah, here it is. Are you all ready? Here’s to Warbeck Hall, God help the old place!
ALL: Warbeck Hall!
(There is the sound of a glass shattering)
ROBERT: (in a strangled voice) What is it? I—
(There is the sound of a body falling to the floor)
CAMILLA: (shrieks) Robert!
JULIUS: What’s happened?
MRS BARRETT: He’s fainted.
BRIGGS: (slowly) He is dead.
(The clock finishes striking)
(Music)
NARRATOR: It is next morning. The scene is once more the library, but the sofa on which Lord Warbeck was lying the previous afternoon is now unoccupied. This time it is Sir Julius who is looking out of the window at the snow. There has been a further heavy fall in the night, and the countryside is everywhere deeply covered. Sir Julius turns from the window with a sigh as Briggs comes into the room.
JULIUS: Ah, Briggs, here you are! How is Lord Warbeck?
BRIGGS: He has stood the shock wonderfully well, Sir Julius, considering, but I am afraid he is not long for this world.
JULIUS: This is a terrible situation, terrible! Is there no chance of getting a doctor out to him?
BRIGGS: I should judge that it will take at least two days to clear the road, Sir Julius, even if there are no further falls meanwhile. But I doubt whether a doctor could do much for him.
JULIUS: This—this is a very embarrassing situation for me, Briggs.
BRIGGS: For you, Sir Julius? Quite so, no doubt. I confess I find my own position somewhat awkward. It is not a very easy one for any of us. Will you be requiring me any further, Sir Julius?
JULIUS: No, thank you, Briggs.
(Sound of door closing)
What am I to do? Oh, what am I to do?
(Sound of door opening)
ROGERS: Excuse me, sir.
JULIUS: Yes, Sergeant Rogers, what is it?
ROGERS: I have succeeded, sir, in making contact with the county police on the telephone.
JULIUS: Good, good. How soon will thy be here?
ROGERS: Well, sir, they are doing their best to get through, but it must take some considerable time, and meanwhile—sir—
JULIUS: Well?
ROGERS: I find myself in rather an awkward position, sir.
JULIUS: You’re the second person who has made that remark to me already this morning. What’s your trouble?
ROGERS: They have expressed a desire that I should meanwhile undertake the investigation into Mr Warbeck’s death, sir.
JULIUS: Well, why not? You’re a detective, after all, aren’t you? I should think it’s your duty.
ROGERS: Quite so, sir. But duties sometimes conflict.
JULIUS: Eh?
ROGERS: I look at it this way, sir. My duty is to protect you. Now, sir, the enquiries I have made so far—quite unofficially, of course—have establ
ished certain facts. Firstly, Mr Warbeck was murdered. Secondly, he was murdered by the administration of poison—probably cyanide of potassium—in his glass of champagne while he was opening the window of the drawing-room. Thirdly, any of the persons present might have poisoned the champagne while the attention of the others was distracted by Mr Warbeck’s behaviour. And finally, sir—
JULIUS: Well?
ROGERS: Well, sir, I can’t altogether shut my eyes to the fact that you are now the heir to Lord Warbeck, who himself may die at any moment.
JULIUS: But—
ROGERS: It would be a rather irregular situation, sir, if I were to find myself arresting the minister whom I had been detailed to protect.
JULIUS: This is preposterous! You can’t imagine that I should kill anyone in order to get into the House of Lords?
ROGERS: I must confess, sir, the idea had occurred to me.
JULIUS: Then get it out of your head at once! As if I wasn’t in a bad enough position already! Where is the telephone? I must get through to the Prime Minister immediately!
ROGERS: (slowly) The Prime Minister?
JULIUS: Yes, the Prime Minister! He must know at once. This business is serious. Why, it may wreck the Government!
ROGERS: (slowly) Yes, sir. I suppose if you put it that way, it might.
JULIUS: What are you gaping for, you fool? Where is the telephone?
ROGERS: (Briskly) I beg your pardon, sir, I was thinking. The police state that all the trunk lines are down, so you won’t be able to get through to Chequers yet. But it doesn’t signify. I must have a word with Mr Briggs. Will you excuse me?
(Door closes)
JULIUS: Has the man gone mad?
(Sound of door opening)
MRS BARRETT: Oh, Sir Julius, there you are! What a dreadful business this is! Briggs tells me that the roads are all completely blocked, and we may be shut up for days. What could have possessed that poor young man to kill himself, do you think? I do wish my husband was here, he would know what to do. I feel I am in such an—
JULIUS: An awkward position, Mrs Barrett. I know. But what makes you think that Robert killed himself?
MRS BARRETT: But he must have, Sir Julius, mustn’t he? I mean, we all saw him.
JULIUS: Sergeant Rogers thinks that he was murdered.
MRS BARRETT: Murdered? Oh, how shocking!
JULIUS: Where is Lady Camilla?
