BARTHWICK. I predicted it. It's not a matter of vast importance.
MRS. BARTHWICK. Not? How can you take it so calmly, John? To me it's simply outrageous. And there you sit, you Liberals, and pretend to encourage these people!
BARTHWICK. [Frowning.] The representation of all parties is necessary for any proper reform, for any proper social policy.
MRS. BARTHWICK. I've no patience with your talk of reform—all that nonsense about social policy. We know perfectly well what it is they want; they want things for themselves. Those Socialists and Labour men are an absolutely selfish set of people. They have no sense of patriotism, like the upper classes; they simply want what we've got.
BARTHWICK. Want what we've got! [He stares into space.] My dear, what are you talking about? [With a contortion.] I 'm no alarmist.
MRS. BARTHWICK. Cream? Quite uneducated men! Wait until they begin to tax our investments. I 'm convinced that when they once get a chance they will tax everything—they've no feeling for the country. You Liberals and Conservatives, you're all alike; you don't see an inch before your noses. You've no imagination, not a scrap of imagination between you. You ought to join hands and nip it in the bud.
BARTHWICK. You 're talking nonsense! How is it possible for Liberals and Conservatives to join hands, as you call it? That shows how absurd it is for women. Why, the very essence of a Liberal is to trust in the people!
MRS. BARTHWICK. Now, John, eat your breakfast. As if there were any real difference between you and the Conservatives. All the upper classes have the same interests to protect, and the same principles. [Calmly.] Oh! you're sitting upon a volcano, John.
BARTHWICK. What!
MRS. BARTHWICK. I read a letter in the paper yesterday. I forget the man's name, but it made the whole thing perfectly clear. You don't look things in the face.
BARTHWICK. Indeed! [Heavily.] I am a Liberal! Drop the subject, please!
MRS. BARTHWICK. Toast? I quite agree with what this man says: Education is simply ruining the lower classes. It unsettles them, and that's the worst thing for us all. I see an enormous difference in the manner of servants.
BARTHWICK, [With suspicious emphasis.] I welcome any change that will lead to something better. [He opens a letter.] H'm! This is that affair of Master Jack's again. "High Street, Oxford. Sir, We have received Mr. John Barthwick, Senior's, draft for forty pounds!" Oh! the letter's to him! "We now enclose the cheque you cashed with us, which, as we stated in our previous letter, was not met on presentation at your bank. We are, Sir, yours obediently, Moss and Sons, Tailors." H'm! [Staring at the cheque.] A pretty business altogether! The boy might have been prosecuted.
MRS. BARTHWICK. Come, John, you know Jack didn't mean anything; he only thought he was overdrawing. I still think his bank ought to have cashed that cheque. They must know your position.
BARTHWICK. [Replacing in the envelope the letter and the cheque.] Much good that would have done him in a court of law.
[He stops as JACK comes in, fastening his waistcoat and staunching a razor cut upon his chin.]
JACK. [Sitting down between them, and speaking with an artificial joviality.] Sorry I 'm late. [He looks lugubriously at the dishes.] Tea, please, mother. Any letters for me? [BARTHWICK hands the letter to him.] But look here, I say, this has been opened! I do wish you wouldn't—
BARTHWICK. [Touching the envelope.] I suppose I 'm entitled to this name.
JACK. [Sulkily.] Well, I can't help having your name, father! [He reads the letter, and mutters.] Brutes!
BARTHWICK. [Eyeing him.] You don't deserve to be so well out of that.
JACK. Haven't you ragged me enough, dad?
MRS. BARTHWICK. Yes, John, let Jack have his breakfast.
BARTHWICK. If you hadn't had me to come to, where would you have been? It's the merest accident—suppose you had been the son of a poor man or a clerk. Obtaining money with a cheque you knew your bank could not meet. It might have ruined you for life. I can't see what's to become of you if these are your principles. I never did anything of the sort myself.
JACK. I expect you always had lots of money. If you've got plenty of money, of course—
BARTHWICK. On the contrary, I had not your advantages. My father kept me very short of money.
JACK. How much had you, dad?
BARTHWICK. It's not material. The question is, do you feel the gravity of what you did?
JACK. I don't know about the gravity. Of course, I 'm very sorry if you think it was wrong. Have n't I said so! I should never have done it at all if I hadn't been so jolly hard up.
BARTHWICK. How much of that forty pounds have you got left, Jack?
JACK. [Hesitating.] I don't know—not much.
BARTHWICK. How much?
JACK. [Desperately.] I haven't got any.
BARTHWICK. What?
JACK. I know I've got the most beastly headache.
[He leans his head on his hand.]
MRS. BARTHWICK. Headache? My dear boy! Can't you eat any breakfast?
JACK. [Drawing in his breath.] Too jolly bad!
MRS. BARTHWICK. I'm so sorry. Come with me; dear; I'll give you something that will take it away at once.
[They leave the room; and BARTHWICK, tearing up the letter, goes to the fireplace and puts the pieces in the fire. While he is doing this MARLOW comes in, and looking round him, is about quietly to withdraw.]
BARTHWICK. What's that? What d 'you want?
MARLOW. I was looking for Mr. John, sir.
BARTHWICK. What d' you want Mr. John for?
MARLOW. [With hesitation.] I thought I should find him here, sir.
BARTHWICK. [Suspiciously.] Yes, but what do you want him for?
MARLOW. [Offhandedly.] There's a lady called—asked to speak to him for a minute, sir.
BARTHWICK. A lady, at this time in the morning. What sort of a lady?
MARLOW. [Without expression in his voice.] I can't tell, sir; no particular sort. She might be after charity. She might be a Sister of Mercy, I should think, sir.
BARTHWICK. Is she dressed like one?
MARLOW. No, sir, she's in plain clothes, sir.
BARTHWICK. Didn't she say what she wanted?
MARLOW. No sir.
BARTHWICK. Where did you leave her?
MARLOW. In the hall, sir.
BARTHWICK. In the hall? How do you know she's not a thief—not got designs on the house?
MARLOW. No, sir, I don't fancy so, sir.
BARTHWICK. Well, show her in here; I'll see her myself.
[MARLOW goes out with a private gesture of dismay. He soon returns, ushering in a young pale lady with dark eyes and pretty figure, in a modish, black, but rather shabby dress, a black and white trimmed hat with a bunch of Parma violets wrongly placed, and fuzzy-spotted veil. At the Sight of MR. BARTHWICK she exhibits every sign of nervousness. MARLOW goes out.]
UNKNOWN LADY. Oh! but—I beg pardon there's some mistake—I [She turns to fly.]
BARTHWICK. Whom did you want to see, madam?
UNKNOWN. [Stopping and looking back.] It was Mr. John Barthwick I wanted to see.
BARTHWICK. I am John Barthwick, madam. What can I have the pleasure of doing for you?
UNKNOWN. Oh! I—I don't [She drops her eyes. BARTHWICK scrutinises her, and purses his lips.]
BARTHWICK. It was my son, perhaps, you wished to see?
UNKNOWN. [Quickly.] Yes, of course, it's your son.
BARTHWICK. May I ask whom I have the pleasure of speaking to?
UNKNOWN. [Appeal and hardiness upon her face.] My name is—oh! it doesn't matter—I don't want to make any fuss. I just want to see your son for a minute. [Boldly.] In fact, I must see him.
BARTHWICK. [Controlling his uneasiness.] My son is not very well. If necessary, no doubt I could attend to the matter; be so kind as to let me know—
UNKNOWN. Oh! but I must see him—I've come on purpose—[She bursts out nervously.] I don't want to make any fuss, but the fact is, last—last night your son took
away—he took away my [She stops.]
BARTHWICK. [Severely.] Yes, madam, what?
UNKNOWN. He took away my—my reticule.
BARTHWICK. Your reti—?
UNKNOWN. I don't care about the reticule; it's not that I want—I 'm sure I don't want to make any fuss—[her face is quivering]—but —but—all my money was in it!
BARTHWICK. In what—in what?
UNKNOWN. In my purse, in the reticule. It was a crimson silk purse. Really, I wouldn't have come—I don't want to make any fuss. But I must get my money back—mustn't I?
BARTHWICK. Do you tell me that my son?
UNKNOWN. Oh! well, you see, he wasn't quite I mean he was
[She smiles mesmerically.]
BARTHWICK. I beg your pardon.
UNKNOWN. [Stamping her foot.] Oh! don't you see—tipsy! We had a quarrel.
BARTHWICK. [Scandalised.] How? Where?
UNKNOWN. [Defiantly.] At my place. We'd had supper at the—and your son—
BARTHWICK. [Pressing the bell.] May I ask how you knew this house? Did he give you his name and address?
UNKNOWN. [Glancing sidelong.] I got it out of his overcoat.
BARTHWICK. [Sardonically.] Oh! you got it out of his overcoat. And may I ask if my son will know you by daylight?
UNKNOWN. Know me? I should jolly—I mean, of course he will! [MARLOW comes in.]
BARTHWICK. Ask Mr. John to come down.
[MARLOW goes out, and BARTHWICK walks uneasily about.]
And how long have you enjoyed his acquaintanceship?
UNKNOWN. Only since—only since Good Friday.
BARTHWICK. I am at a loss—I repeat I am at a—
[He glances at this unknown lady, who stands with eyes cast down, twisting her hands And suddenly Jack appears. He stops on seeing who is here, and the unknown lady hysterically giggles. There is a silence.]
BARTHWICK. [Portentously.] This young—er—lady says that last night—I think you said last night madam—you took away—
UNKNOWN. [Impulsively.] My reticule, and all my money was in a crimson silk purse.
JACK. Reticule. [Looking round for any chance to get away.] I don't know anything about it.
BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] Come, do you deny seeing this young lady last night?
JACK. Deny? No, of course. [Whispering.] Why did you give me away like this? What on earth did you come here for?
UNKNOWN. [Tearfully.] I'm sure I didn't want to—it's not likely, is it? You snatched it out of my hand—you know you did—and the purse had all my money in it. I didn't follow you last night because I didn't want to make a fuss and it was so late, and you were so—
BARTHWICK. Come, sir, don't turn your back on me—explain!
JACK. [Desperately.] I don't remember anything about it. [In a low voice to his friend.] Why on earth couldn't you have written?
UNKNOWN. [Sullenly.] I want it now; I must have, it—I've got to pay my rent to-day. [She looks at BARTHWICK.] They're only too glad to jump on people who are not—not well off.
JACK. I don't remember anything about it, really. I don't remember anything about last night at all. [He puts his hand up to his head.] It's all—cloudy, and I've got such a beastly headache.
UNKNOWN. But you took it; you know you did. You said you'd score me off.
JACK. Well, then, it must be here. I remember now—I remember something. Why did I take the beastly thing?
BARTHWICK. Yes, why did you take the beastly— [He turns abruptly to the window.]
UNKNOWN. [With her mesmeric smile.] You weren't quite were you?
JACK. [Smiling pallidly.] I'm awfully sorry. If there's anything I can do—
BARTHWICK. Do? You can restore this property, I suppose.
JACK. I'll go and have a look, but I really don't think I've got it.
[He goes out hurriedly. And BARTHWICK, placing a chair, motions to the visitor to sit; then, with pursed lips, he stands and eyes her fixedly. She sits, and steals a look at him; then turns away, and, drawing up her veil, stealthily wipes her eyes. And Jack comes back.]
JACK. [Ruefully holding out the empty reticule.] Is that the thing? I've looked all over—I can't find the purse anywhere. Are you sure it was there?
UNKNOWN. [Tearfully.] Sure? Of course I'm sure. A crimson silk purse. It was all the money I had.
JACK. I really am awfully sorry—my head's so jolly bad. I've asked the butler, but he hasn't seen it.
UNKNOWN. I must have my money—
JACK. Oh! Of course—that'll be all right; I'll see that that's all right. How much?
UNKNOWN. [Sullenly.] Seven pounds-twelve—it's all I've got in the world.
JACK. That'll be all right; I'll—send you a cheque.
UNKNOWN. [Eagerly.] No; now, please. Give me what was in my purse; I've got to pay my rent this morning. They won't' give me another day; I'm a fortnight behind already.
JACK. [Blankly.] I'm awfully sorry; I really haven't a penny in my pocket.
[He glances stealthily at BARTHWICK.]
UNKNOWN. [Excitedly.] Come I say you must—it's my money, and you took it. I 'm not going away without it. They'll turn me out of my place.
JACK. [Clasping his head.] But I can't give you what I haven't got. Don't I tell you I haven't a beastly cent.
UNKNOWN. [Tearing at her handkerchief.] Oh! do give it me! [She puts her hands together in appeal; then, with sudden fierceness.] If you don't I'll summons you. It's stealing, that's what it is!
BARTHWICK. [Uneasily.] One moment, please. As a matter of—er —principle, I shall settle this claim. [He produces money.] Here is eight pounds; the extra will cover the value of the purse and your cab fares. I need make no comment—no thanks are necessary.
[Touching the bell, he holds the door ajar in silence. The unknown lady stores the money in her reticule, she looks from JACK to BARTHWICK, and her face is quivering faintly with a smile. She hides it with her hand, and steals away. Behind her BARTHWICK shuts the door.]
BARTHWICK. [With solemnity.] H'm! This is nice thing to happen!
JACK. [Impersonally.] What awful luck!
BARTHWICK. So this is the way that forty pounds has gone! One thing after another! Once more I should like to know where you 'd have been if it hadn't been for me! You don't seem to have any principles. You—you're one of those who are a nuisance to society; you—you're dangerous! What your mother would say I don't know. Your conduct, as far as I can see, is absolutely unjustifiable. It's—it's criminal. Why, a poor man who behaved as you've done —d' you think he'd have any mercy shown him? What you want is a good lesson. You and your sort are—[he speaks with feeling]—a nuisance to the community. Don't ask me to help you next time. You're not fit to be helped.
JACK. [Turning upon his sire, with unexpected fierceness.] All right, I won't then, and see how you like it. You wouldn't have helped me this time, I know, if you hadn't been scared the thing would get into the papers. Where are the cigarettes?
BARTHWICK. [Regarding him uneasily.] Well I'll say no more about it. [He rings the bell.] I'll pass it over for this once, but— [MARLOW Comes in.] You can clear away.
[He hides his face behind the "Times."]
JACK. [Brightening.] I say, Marlow, where are the cigarettes?
MARLOW. I put the box out with the whisky last night, sir, but this morning I can't find it anywhere.
JACK. Did you look in my room?
MARLOW. Yes, sir; I've looked all over the house. I found two Nestor ends in the tray this morning, so you must have been smokin' last night, sir. [Hesitating.] I 'm really afraid some one's purloined the box.
JACK. [Uneasily.] Stolen it!
BARTHWICK. What's that? The cigarette-box! Is anything else missing?
MARLOW. No, sir; I've been through the plate.
BARTHWICK. Was the house all right this morning? None of the windows open?
MARLOW. No, sir. [Quietly to JACK.] You left your latch-key in the door last night, sir.
[He hands it back, unseen by B
ARTHWICK]
JACK. Tst!
BARTHWICK. Who's been in the room this morning?
MARLOW. Me and Wheeler, and Mrs. Jones is all, sir, as far as I know.
BARTHWICK. Have you asked Mrs. Barthwick?
The Silver Box Page 2
