The Early Ayn Rand

by Ayn Rand

  HELEN: Very well.

  HASTINGS: Steve, will you please go down there—[Points to the garden]—and take a look at that electrical apparatus that Breckenridge was operating? I have the butler’s statement about the invention and the fireworks display that was interrupted. I want to know what interrupted it. I want you to tell me whether that machine is out of order in any way.

  INGALLS: Will you take my word for it?

  HASTINGS: I’ll have to. You’re the only one who can tell us. Besides, my men are there and they’ll be watching you. But first, come to the library and get fingerprinted.

  INGALLS: All right.

  [They all exit, Right. HELEN is the last to go. She turns out the lights, then follows the others. The stage is dark and empty for a few moments. Then a man’s figure enters Right. We cannot see who it is. The man gathers quickly all the sheets of the newspaper, twists them into one roll, and kneels by the fireplace. He strikes a match and sets fire to the paper. We see his two hands, but nothing else. He lets the paper burn halfway, then blows out the fire. Then he rises and exits Right]

  [After a moment, HELEN and HASTINGS come back, Right. HELEN turns on the light. We can see part of the rolled newspaper among the logs in the fireplace]

  HASTINGS: May I apologize in advance, Mrs. Breckenridge, for anything that I might have to say or do? I’m afraid this is going to be a difficult case.

  HELEN: Will you forgive me if I say that I hope it will be a difficult case?

  HASTINGS: You do not wish me to find the murderer?

  HELEN: I suppose I should, but . . . No. I don’t.

  HASTINGS: It might mean that you know who it is. Or—it could mean something much worse.

  HELEN: I don’t know who it is. As to the “much worse”—well, we’ll all deny that, so I don’t think my denial would be worth more than any of the others. [CURTISS enters Right]

  CURTISS: Mr. Hastings, could you ask the coroner please to attend to Mrs. Pudget?

  HELEN: Good God, Curtiss! You don’t mean that Mrs. Pudget has been—

  CURTISS: Oh no, madam. But Mrs. Pudget has a bad case of hysterics. [FLEMING and SERGE enter Right]

  HASTINGS: What’s the matter with her?

  CURTISS: She says that she positively refuses to work for people who get murdered.

  HASTINGS: All right, ask the coroner to give her a pill. Then come back here.

  CURTISS: Yes, sir. [Exits Right]

  HASTINGS: [To HELEN] I understand that your son witnessed the fireworks from this room?

  HELEN: Yes, I believe so.

  HASTINGS: Then I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to have him brought here.

  FLEMING: And get him out of bed? At this hour? [HASTINGS looks at him with curiosity]

  HELEN: But of course, Harvey. It can’t be avoided. It’s quite all right. I’ll ask Flash to bring him down.

  FLEMING: I will. [Exits Right, as TONY enters]

  HASTINGS: [To HELEN] Do you know why I think this case is going to be difficult? Because motive is always the most important thing. Motive is the key to any case. And I’m afraid I’ll have a hard time finding one single motive among all the people here. I can’t imagine any reason for killing a man of Mr. Breckenridge’s character.

  HELEN: Neither could Walter. And I hope whoever did it told him the reason before he died. [He looks at her, astonished] Yes, I’m really as cruel as that—though I didn’t know it before. [ADRIENNE enters Right. She is pale, tense and barely able to control herself]

  TONY: I didn’t know fingerprinting was as simple as that, did you, Adrienne? Wasn’t it fun?

  ADRIENNE: [Curtly] No.

  TONY: [Taken aback] Oh . . . I’m sorry, Adrienne. . . . But I thought . . . you’d be the one to feel better than any of us.

  ADRIENNE: [Bitterly] Oh, you did?

  HELEN: Adrienne, may I get you a drink?

  ADRIENNE: [Looks at her with hatred. Then, to HASTINGS:] Get this over with, will you, so I can get out of here?

  HASTINGS: I shall try, Miss Knowland. [INGALLS enters from the garden] What about the machine, Steve?

  INGALLS: In perfect order.

  HASTINGS: Nothing the matter with it?

  INGALLS: Nothing.

  HASTINGS: Doesn’t look as if anybody had tried to monkey with it?

  INGALLS: No. [CURTISS enters Right]

  HASTINGS: Now, I should like to ask you all to sit down and be as comfortable as we can be under the circumstances. I won’t have a stenographer taking down anybody’s words or gestures. I shan’t need that. Let’s just relax and talk sensibly. [To HELEN] Is everybody here now?

  HELEN: Yes, except Billy and his tutor and Mr. Fleming.

  HASTINGS: Now as to the servants—there are the butler, the cook and her husband, the chauffeur. Is that all?

  HELEN: Yes.

  HASTINGS: And—who are the nearest neighbors?

  HELEN: I . . . don’t know.

  INGALLS: The nearest house is two miles away.

  HASTINGS: I see. All right. Now we can begin. As you see, I don’t believe in conducting an investigation behind closed doors and trying to play people against one another. I prefer to keep everything in the open. I know that none of you will want to talk. But my job requires that I make you talk. So I shall start by giving you all an example. I don’t believe it’s necessary—though it’s usually done—to keep from you the facts in my possession. What for? The murderer knows them—and the others should want to help me. Therefore, I shall tell you what I know so far. [Pauses. Then:] Mr. Breckenridge was shot—in the back. The shot was fired at some distance—there are no powder burns around the wound. The body was lying quite a few steps away from the electrical machine which Mr. Breckenridge was using for the fireworks display. The watch on Mr. Breckenridge’s wrist was broken and stopped at four minutes past ten. There was nothing but grass and soft earth where the body had fallen, so the watch crystal could not have been smashed like that by the fall. It looks as if someone stepped on the watch. The gun was lying on the ground, near the machine. Curtiss has identified it as Mr. Breckenridge’s own gun. Only one shot had been fired. The gun shows an excellent set of fingerprints. We shall soon know whether they are the prints of anyone here. That’s all—so far. Now I should like to—[FLEMING and FLASH enter Right wheeling BILLY in. BILLY wears a bathrobe over his pajamas]

  HELEN: This is Billy, Mr. Hastings.

  HASTINGS: How do you do, Billy. I’m sorry I had to get you out of bed.

  HELEN: [Looks questioningly at FLEMING, who shakes his head. She turns to BILLY, says gently:] Billy, dear, you must try to be calm and grown-up about what I’m going to tell you. It’s about Father. You see, dear, there was an accident and . . . and . . .

  BILLY: You mean he’s dead?

  HELEN: Yes, dear.

  BILLY: You mean he’s been murdered?

  HELEN: You mustn’t say that. We don’t know. We’re trying to find out what happened.

  BILLY: [Very simply] I’m glad. [Silence as they all look at him. Then:]

  HASTINGS: [Softly] Why did you say that, Billy?

  BILLY: [Very simply] Because he wanted to keep me a cripple.

  HASTINGS: [This is too much even for him] Billy . . . how can you think such a thing?

  BILLY: That’s all he wanted me for in the first place.

  HASTINGS: What do you mean?

  BILLY: [In a flat monotone] He wanted a cripple because a cripple has to depend on him. If you spend your time helping people, you’ve got to have people to help. If everybody were independent, what would happen to the people who’ve got to help everybody?

  FLEMING: [To HASTINGS, angrily] Will you stop this? Ask him whatever you have to ask and let him go.

  HASTINGS: [Looks at him, then:] What’s your name?

  FLEMING: Harvey Fleming.

  HASTINGS: [Turns to BILLY] Billy, what made you think that about Mr. Breckenridge?

  BILLY: [Looks at him, almost contemptuously, as if the answer were too enormous an
d too obvious. Then says wearily:] Today, for instance.

  HASTINGS: What happened today?

  BILLY: They asked him to let me have an operation—the last thing they could do for me or I’d never walk at all. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t, even when—[Looks at FLEMING. Stops short]

  HASTINGS: [Softly] Even when—what, Billy?

  BILLY: That’s all.

  FLEMING: Say it, kid. It’s all right. Even when I cursed him and threatened him.

  HASTINGS: You did? [Looks at him, then:] Mr. Fleming, why are you so concerned about Billy?

  FLEMING: [Astonished by the question, as if his answer were a well-known fact] Why? Because I’m his father. [HASTINGS turns to look at HELEN] No, not what your dirty mind is thinking. I thought you knew. They all know. Billy’s my own legitimate son—and my wife’s. My wife is dead. Walter adopted him five years ago. [HASTINGS looks at him, startled. FLEMING takes it for reproach and continues angrily:] Don’t tell me I was a Goddamn fool to agree to it. I know I was. But I didn’t know it then. How was I to know? [Points at the others] How were any of them to know what would happen to them? I was out of work. My wife had just died. Billy’d had infantile paralysis for a year. I’d have given anything to cure him. I gave all I had to give— I gave him up, when Walter asked to adopt him. Walter was rich. Walter could afford the best doctors. Walter had been so kind to us. When I saw what it really was—it took me two years to begin to guess—there was nothing I could do . . . nothing. . . . Walter owned him.

  HASTINGS: [Slowly] I see.

  FLEMING: No, you don’t. Do you know that we came from the same small town, Walter and I? That we had no money, neither one of us? That I was the brilliant student in school and Walter hated me for it? That people said I’d be a great engineer, and I’d made a good beginning, only I didn’t have Walter’s gift for using people? That he wanted to see me down, as far down as a man can go? That he helped me when I was out of work—because he knew it would keep me out of work, because he knew I was drinking—when my wife died—and I didn’t care—and it seemed so easy. . . . He knew I’d never work again, when he took the last thing I had away from me—when he took Billy to make it easier for me—to make it easier! If you want to finish a man, just take all burdens—and all goals—away from him! . . . He gave me money—all these years—and I took it. I took it! [Stops. Then says, in a low, dead voice:] Listen. I didn’t kill Walter Breckenridge. But I would have slept prouder—all the rest of my life—if it was I who’d killed him.

  HASTINGS: [Turns slowly to HELEN] Mrs. Breckenridge . . .

  HELEN: [Her voice flat, expressionless] It’s true. All of it. You see, we couldn’t have any children, Walter and I. I had always wanted a child. I remember I told him once—I was watching children playing in a park—I told him that I wanted a child, a child’s running feet in the house. . . . Then he adopted Billy. . . . [Silence]

  BILLY: [To FLEMING] I didn’t want to say anything . . . Dad. . . . [To HELEN, a little frightened] It’s all right, now?

  HELEN: [Her voice barely audible] Yes, dear. . . .You know it wasn’t I who demanded that you . . . [She doesn’t finish]

  BILLY: [To FLEMING] I’m sorry, Dad. . . .

  FLEMING: [Puts his hand on BILLY’s shoulder, and BILLY buries his face against FLEMING’s arm] It’s all right, Bill. Everything will be all right now. . . . [Silence]

  HASTINGS: I’m sorry, Mr. Fleming. I almost wish you hadn’t told me. Because, you see, you did have a good motive.

  FLEMING: [Simply, indifferently] I thought everybody knew I had.

  TONY: What of it? He wasn’t the only one.

  HASTINGS: No? And what is your name?

  TONY: Tony Goddard.

  HASTINGS: Now, Mr. Goddard, when you make a statement of that kind, you’re usually asked to—

  TONY:—finish it? What do you suppose I started for? You won’t have to question me. I’ll tell you. It’s very simple. I’m not sure you’ll understand, but I don’t care. [Stretches his hands out] Look at my hands. Mr. Breckenridge told me that they were the hands of a great surgeon. He told me how much good I could do, how many suffering people I could help—and he gave me a scholarship in a medical college. A very generous scholarship.

  HASTINGS: Well?

  TONY: That’s all. Except that I hate medicine more than anything else in the world. And what I wanted to be was a pianist. [HASTINGS looks at him. TONY continues, calmly, bitterly:] All right, say I was a weakling. Who wouldn’t be? I was poor—and very lonely. Nobody had ever taken an interest in me before. Nobody seemed to care whether I lived or died. I had a long struggle ahead of me—and I wasn’t even sure that I had any musical talent. How can you ever be sure at the beginning? And the road looks so long and so hopeless—and you’re hurt so often. And he told me it was a selfish choice, and that I’d be so much more useful to men as a doctor, and he was so kind to me, and he made it sound so right.

  HASTINGS: But why wouldn’t he help you through a music school, instead?

  TONY: [Looks at him, almost pityingly, like an older man at a child, says wearily, without bitterness:] Why? [Shrugs in resignation] Mr. Hastings, if you want to have men dependent on you, don’t allow them to be happy. Happy men are free men.

  HASTINGS: But if you were unhappy, why didn’t you leave it all? What held you?

  TONY: [In the same wise, tired voice] Mr. Hastings, you don’t know what a ghastly weapon kindness can be. When you’re up against an enemy, you can fight him. But when you’re up against a friend, a gentle, kindly, smiling friend—you turn against yourself. You think that you’re low and ungrateful. It’s the best in you that destroys you. That’s what’s horrible about it. . . . And it takes you a long time to understand. I think I understood it only today.

  HASTINGS: Why?

  TONY: I don’t know. Everything. The house, the horse, the gift to mankind . . . [Turns to the others] One of us here is the murderer. I don’t know who it is. I hope I never learn—for his sake. But I want him to know that I’m grateful . . . so terribly grateful. . . . [Silence] HASTINGS: [Turns to INGALLS] Steve?

  INGALLS: Yes?

  HASTINGS: What did you think of Walter Breckenridge?

  INGALLS: [In a calm, perfectly natural voice] I loathed him in every way and for every reason possible. You can make any motive you wish out of that. [HASTINGS looks at him]

  ADRIENNE: Stop staring at him like that. People usually prefer to look at me. Besides, I’m not accustomed to playing a supporting part.

  HASTINGS: You, Miss Knowland? But you didn’t hate Mr. Breckenridge.

  ADRIENNE: No?

  HASTINGS: But—why?

  ADRIENNE: Because he kept me doing a noble, useful work which I couldn’t stand. Because he had a genius for finding people of talent and for the best way of destroying them. Because he held me all right—with a five-year contract. Today, I begged him to let me go. He refused. We had a violent quarrel. Ask Steve. He heard me screaming.

  HELEN: Adrienne, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know about this.

  ADRIENNE: [Looks at her, doesn’t answer, turns to HASTINGS] How soon will you allow us to leave? It was bad enough staying here when it was Walter’s house. I won’t stand it for very long—when it’s hers.

  HASTINGS: Why, Miss Knowland?

  TONY: Adrienne, we don’t have to—

  ADRIENNE: Oh, what’s the difference? He’ll hear about it sooner or later, so he might as well have it now. [To HASTINGS] This afternoon, Walter and I and the others came in from the garden just in time to interrupt a love scene, a very beautiful love scene, between Helen and Steve. I’ve never been able to get any leading man of mine to kiss me like that. [To HELEN] Was Steve as good at it as he looked, my dear? [HELEN stands staring at her, frozen. ADRIENNE whirls to HASTINGS] You didn’t know that?

  HASTINGS: No. I didn’t know either of these two very interesting facts.

  ADRIENNE: Two?

  HASTINGS: First—the love scene. Second—that it should have impressed
you in this particular manner.

  ADRIENNE: Well, you know it now.

  INGALLS: Adrienne, you’d better stop it.

  ADRIENNE: Stop what?

  INGALLS: What you’re doing.

  ADRIENNE: You don’t know what I’m doing.

  INGALLS: Oh, yes, I think I do.

  HASTINGS: Well, I don’t know if any of you noticed it, but I’ve made one mistake about this case already. I thought nobody would want to talk.

  INGALLS: I noticed it.

  HASTINGS: You would. [Turns to BILLY] Now, Billy, I’ll try not to hold you here too long. But you were here in this room all evening, weren’t you?

  BILLY: Yes.

  HASTINGS: Now I want you to tell me everything you remember, who left this room and when.

  BILLY: Well, I think . . . I think Steve left first. When we were talking about the operation. He walked out.

  HASTINGS: Where did he go?

  BILLY: In the garden.

  HASTINGS: Who went next?

  BILLY: It was Dad. He went upstairs.

  FLASH: And he took a bottle from the sideboard with him.

  HASTINGS: You’re Billy’s tutor, aren’t you?

  FLASH: Yes. Flash Kozinsky—Stanislaw Kozinsky.

  HASTINGS: And you stayed here with Billy all evening?

  FLASH: Yes.

  HASTINGS: Now who went next?

  BILLY: Mr. Breckenridge. He went into the garden. And he said that he didn’t want anybody to follow him.

  HASTINGS: What time was that?

  FLASH: About ten o’clock.

  HASTINGS: And then?

  FLASH: Then Mrs. Breckenridge got up and said “Excuse me” and went upstairs. And then Tony told me to . . . to do something with the fireworks which I couldn’t possibly do—and went into the library.

  BILLY: And then we heard Tony playing the piano in the library.

  FLASH: Then the fireworks started—and nobody was there to see it but us two and Miss Knowland. They were very beautiful fireworks, though. And Miss Knowland said that it was lovely, good target shooting, or something like that—and suddenly she kind of screamed and said she had thought of something and wanted to find Mr. Breckenridge right away.