Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)
Page 367
Nothing has happened, Mr. Bennett?
Bennett.
No, my lord. [To George Winter.] May I speak to you for a moment, Governor?
George Winter.
Yes. Etchingham, d’you mind ...?
Etchingham.
Of course not.
[He goes up to Catherine, who is standing at the window, and begins talking to her. The conversation between George Winter and Bennett proceeds in a lower tone, sinking almost to a whisper as it goes on.
George Winter.
What the devil’s the matter, Fred? You’re looking like a dying duck in a thunderstorm.
Bennett.
There’s been a cable from Macdonald, Governor.
George Winter.
Good business. And when’s the report due? I suppose it’s following.
Bennett.
Yes.
George Winter.
Why the deuce didn’t you ring me up? I’d have come down to the office at once. Now we’ve got that we can fire away.
Bennett.
I wouldn’t risk it on the phone. You never know who’s listening.
George Winter.
Drivel. You’re an old woman, Fred. Have you got it on you?
Bennett.
It’s not what you expect, Governor.
George Winter.
[Seizing his wrist.] What the hell d’you mean?
Bennett.
It’s rotten. It’s....
George Winter.
[Interrupting violently.] You filthy liar, what are you talking about?
Bennett.
Take care, they’ll hear you.
George Winter.
Where is it?
Bennett.
I’ve got it in my pocket.
George Winter.
If you’ve been playing the fool with me, Fred....
Bennett.
[Taking out the cable.] I’m in it as deep as you are.
[George Winter takes the cable, is just going to unfold it, when, sick with apprehension, he hesitates. He is too terrified to read it.
George Winter.
What does it say, Fred?
Bennett.
Why, there’s nothing there. We’ve been done in the eye. The mine’s worthless.
[George Winter turns away from him, a look of fear and bewilderment on his face. For a moment he hesitates uncertain what to do, then quickly makes up his mind and clenches his teeth.
Bennett.
[Going up to him.] Governor.
George Winter.
If that’s true, the hundred thousand we paid for it might as well have been thrown down a drain-pipe.
Bennett.
What are you going to do?
George Winter.
Do? Fight it out.
Etchingham.
[Coming forward.] Nothing serious, I hope, George?
George Winter.
[Over his shoulder.] Nothing.
Bennett.
[In a whisper.] You know what it means if you fail?
George Winter.
The Old Bailey. But I shan’t fail.
The Butler comes in.
Thompson.
Luncheon is ready, my lord.
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
THE SECOND ACT
The scene is the same as in the preceding act, the drawing room of Lord Francis Etchingham’s house in Norfolk Street.
It is afternoon. Lady Francis is seated, working at embroidery on a drum. Catherine stands at the window, looking out into the street.
Lady Francis.
Aren’t you tired, Kate?
Catherine.
[Still looking out of the window.] No, mother.
Lady Francis.
You were out all the morning.
Catherine.
I went to see my lawyers.
Lady Francis.
[With a sigh.] I can’t understand that with such a father and such a mother, you should be such a monster of determination.
[Catherine neither answers nor turns.
Lady Francis.
[After a quick look at her.] Dr. O’Farrell says your father will be well enough to come downstairs to-morrow.
Catherine.
I’m glad of that.
Lady Francis.
This is the second attack of gout he’s had this year.
Catherine.
Poor old thing!
Lady Francis.
Aren’t you tired of staring at the house opposite? You’re not expecting anyone, are you?
Catherine.
No.
Lady Francis.
You’re dreadfully restless. [With a faint smile.] I’m growing quite exhausted.
[Catherine gives a little cry of astonishment and alarm.
Lady Francis.
What’s the matter?
Catherine.
[Turning round and coming forward.] George has just driven up.
Lady Francis.
I suppose he’s come to see your father.
Catherine.
They mustn’t let him up. I won’t see him. It’s monstrous that I should have to put up with this.
Lady Francis.
My dear, don’t worry. George hasn’t made any attempt to see you for a fortnight.
[George Winter comes in hurriedly, unannounced; he shuts the door behind him.
Catherine.
[Indignantly.] What d’you want? You’ve got no right to force yourself upon me.
[She makes a movement to leave the room, but he intercepts her. He takes a paper out of his pocket.
George Winter.
I’ve just been served with this.
Catherine.
What else did you expect?
George Winter.
Your father told me that nothing was going to be done for the moment.
Catherine.
I can’t help what father said. It’s my business. I can allow no one to interfere with me.
Lady Francis.
What is that, George?
George Winter.
Would you like to look at it? It’s an interesting document.
Catherine.
It’s the petition, mother.
Lady Francis.
I wish I had my glasses. I’ve never seen one before.
George Winter.
[Grimly.] You’ve been lucky.
Lady Francis.
[With an acid smile.] Or virtuous.
George Winter.
[To Catherine.] You’ve got to withdraw this.
Catherine.
Surely you must see that from now all communications between us must pass through our lawyers.
George Winter.
Rats!
[Catherine crosses the room and rings the bell at the side of the fireplace.
George Winter.
What are you ringing for?
Catherine.
For Thompson to open the door for you.
George Winter.
That’s excessively thoughtful of you.
Catherine.
Mother, can’t you protect me from this?
Lady Francis.
My dear, your husband is six feet high, and broad in proportion. I’ll tell Thompson to kick him downstairs if you like....
George Winter.
But it’s not a job that any well-regulated butler would enjoy.
[The Butler comes in, and waits for an order.
George Winter.
Oh, Thompson, I’m expecting three gentlemen here at five o’clock. You’ll show them into the library, and let me know the moment they come.
Thompson.
Very good, sir.
[He goes out.
Catherine.
What do you mean by this?
George Winter.
That’s precisely what I came to tell you.... I suppose you’ve been talking. There’ve been references to a dispute between us in the Middlepool papers, and the Herald, the Conservative rag, has stated in the current issue th
at you are divorcing me.
Catherine.
The Middlepool papers are singularly well-informed.
George Winter.
That’s where you’re mistaken. The Argus is printing a special edition with a complete and authoritative denial of the whole story. I’ve issued a writ for libel against the Herald.
Catherine.
One lie more or less on your conscience can make no great difference to you.
George Winter.
I’ve explained your presence here by your susceptibility to fresh paint.
Lady Francis.
What do you mean?
George Winter.
[With a chuckle.] The day after Kate left Portman Square I came to the conclusion that the house needed re-decorating. I’m having it papered and painted from cellar to attic. When it’s finished I shall start again.
Lady Francis.
Fortunately the British workman takes his time.
George Winter.
But that’s not enough. The Middlepool people are nervous about the whole thing. You know Swalecliffe — he’s the Nonconformist minister — one of those confounded busybodies who go poking their noses into everybody’s private life. He’s on my committee. He and Ford control the dissenting interest between them.... They’ve got it into their heads that they want the truth from you.
Catherine.
Me?
Lady Francis.
Who is Ford?
George Winter.
Oh, he’s the richest man in Middlepool. He’s one of my directors on the Middlepool Investment Trust. Hard as nails! Shrewd as they make ’em! But a Nonconformist to the tips of his fingers. He’s just built a Congregational church out of his own pocket. He’s a corker to deal with.
Lady Francis.
But I don’t understand. What do these men want Kate to do?
George Winter.
They’re coming here at five o’clock with Boyce, my agent, to ask Kate if there’s any truth in the rumours.
Lady Francis.
But it’s outrageous!
George Winter.
Of course it’s outrageous! But what d’you expect from a parcel of sneaking Middlepool dissenters?
Lady Francis.
And what do you expect Kate to say?
George Winter.
She’s going to say it’s the first she’s heard of it. Then they’re going to ask her if she’s divorcing me, and she’s going to — repudiate the suggestion with all the scorn at her command.
Catherine.
I refuse to see these people.
George Winter.
Do you?
Catherine.
[Satirically.] Or do you want me to tell them before your face that every word they’ve heard is true? Yes, I’ll see them. I’ll settle the whole thing. And then I shall be rid of this persecution. But I shall tell them the exact truth.
George Winter.
[Grimly humorous.] It’s not five o’clock yet.
[The Butler comes in, followed by Mr. Perigal. This is the Prime Minister. He is a stoutish man of middle height, clean-shaven, with abundant grey hair worn long. His face is sensual, shrewd and bland; his manner is kindly and restrained.
Thompson.
Mr. Perigal.
[Exit.
Lady Francis.
[Cordially.] My dear Bob, this is kind of you.
Perigal.
How d’you do? Well, Kate?
Catherine.
You never come and see us now you’re Prime Minister.
Perigal.
It’s a delusion of the public that the Prime Minister has nothing to do but pay afternoon calls. [He turns to George Winter.] I’m very glad to see you here.
George Winter.
On the best possible terms with my mother-in-law.
Lady Francis.
Well, when are you going to dissolve Parliament?
Perigal.
[Making himself comfortable in an arm-chair.] I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had time to read the papers for some days. What do they say about it?
Lady Francis.
Don’t be irritating, Bob.
Perigal.
My dear, a wise Prime Minister looks upon it as a privilege to fulfil the intelligent anticipations of the press.
Lady Francis.
I hope it’s not true that you’re going to give Emily Lascelles the Home Office?
Perigal.
Good heavens, you talk as if your sex were already comfortably installed in the House.
Lady Francis.
You know perfectly what I mean. It doesn’t matter about the men, because all the work is done by the permanent officials. But their wives are quite another matter. I tell you frankly it will be a great mistake if Emily Lascelles goes to the Home Office.
Perigal.
Why?
Lady Francis.
She can’t entertain. She doesn’t know a word of French. She dresses abominably.
Perigal.
[Ironically.] That settles it. Emily Lascelles shall not go to the Home Office.
George Winter.
[With a smile.] That is how history is made.
Lady Francis.
Oh, George, Frank bought a print of Napoleon the other day that he wants to show you. Do come up, will you?
George Winter.
Of course.
Lady Francis.
George collects things about Napoleon, you know.
Perigal.
Ah, the Napoleon of Finance.... I’m sorry to hear that Frank is laid up.
Lady Francis.
Oh, he’s much better to-day. We shall only be five minutes.
[She goes out with George Winter.
Perigal.
How naturally your mother did that! It almost took me in.
Catherine.
[Gravely.] Have you come to see me by arrangement?
Perigal.
I’m up to my eyes in work! I’m afraid I could hardly find time for a chat in the middle of the afternoon without a rather special object.
Catherine.
I suppose not.
Perigal.
But your husband’s presence leads me to suppose that your common sense has made my errand unnecessary.
Catherine.
Haven’t you heard of the life we led together?
Perigal.
I make a point of never believing the disagreeable things that are said about a man who subscribes so handsomely to the Party funds as your husband.
Catherine.
Then I have you against me too?
Perigal.
My dear child, I’ve known you all your life. Your mother is my first cousin. We all desire nothing more than your happiness.
Catherine.
George was served with the petition this morning.
Perigal.
Ah!... It appears that two prominent supporters of your husband are coming up from Middlepool this afternoon to get from your own lips a denial of the rumours that have been circulating in the constituency.
Catherine.
I can promise you that they’re not going to get it.
Perigal.
I wish I could persuade you to pause before you take such an irrevocable step.
Catherine.
But why should you care?
Perigal.
We’ve been in for six years. We’re dissolving Parliament at once. I don’t know if we shall get in again. It’ll be a very close shave. We can’t afford to risk a couple of seats....
Catherine.
A couple?
Perigal.
The Chief Whip tells me that your husband proposes to lodge a counter petition.
Catherine.
If it weren’t so odious, the idea would be laughable. I promise you that....
Perigal.
Yes, yes, of course. Neither you nor Robert Colby has anything to reproach himself with. That is obvious. But ... well, I gather that the evidence is such tha
t a prima facie case could be made out. It would be awkward just at this moment, for all of us — I myself could wish that my relationship to your dear mother weren’t quite so close. The British people for some reason always judge moral delinquencies on the Radical side with great severity. I have always thought it a hardship that the Tories should have a sort of prescriptive right to the more amusing forms of immorality.
Catherine.
Let us understand one another plainly. Do you mean that if my husband drags Robert Colby through the Divorce Court, you’ll throw Robert overboard, even if his innocence is proved through and through?
Perigal.
My dear, no one is so innocent that there’s not occasion for many people to shake their heads and say: One never knows. I don’t suppose any Prime Minister would invite a man to enter his cabinet who’d been co-respondent in a divorce suit.
Catherine.
It’s nothing short of blackmail. George makes no concealment of the fact.
Perigal.
He has a brutal frankness which is sometimes rather engaging.
Catherine.
Oh, you drive me mad. My whole happiness is at stake, and you can pause to smile at that odious cynicism.... You’ve known Robert and me all our lives. Won’t you believe in us? Won’t you stand by us?
Perigal.
[Very kindly.] My dear, in the position entrusted to me I can’t take risks.... I dare say you know that one of the items in our programme is a modified form of compulsory service. I don’t know that I altogether like it myself, but it’ll take the wind out of the Tory sails, and we’ve got to do something. Robert has enthusiasm and he believes in the measure. He’s just the man to pilot it through the House.
Catherine.
He’s set his heart on getting the War Office.
Perigal.
[Smiling.] Well, you have it in your hands to give it him.
Catherine.
I? Does he know that George Winter has made certain threats?
Perigal.
I think not.
Catherine.
Oh, what a responsibility you put upon me.
Perigal.
That generally goes with power, and at the moment you have that too.
Catherine.
[After a moment’s reflection.] Robert and I have never hidden anything from one another. He wouldn’t wish me to decide on a matter that concerns us both so nearly without consulting him. Do you object to my putting the whole thing before him?
Perigal.
Not a bit! But I can tell you at once what his answer will be. He’ll say that he loves you, and if he must choose between you and everything that has seemed to make his life worth living, he chooses you without a moment’s hesitation.
[Catherine gives a little sigh of relief and delight.
Perigal.
But while he’s in the very act of renouncing the world for your sake, look into his eyes, and perhaps you’ll see in them — oh, only for a moment, and you’ll have to look sharply — the shadow, the merest shadow of regret.... And perhaps in ten years, when I bring an ill-spent life to a close, you’ll say to yourself: If I hadn’t sacrificed him, he might be standing now in the shoes of that poor old incompetent Perigal.