by Unknown
Mr. Devizes (hurriedly). No, no, no.
Surtees. He called it the accursed thing. I think he meant we should know of it and be on the watch. (He pulls himself together.) I’ll see to this at once, sir.
(He goes out. Mr. Devizes continues his lunch.
The curtain falls here for a moment only, to indicate the passing of a number of years. When it rises we see that the engraving of Queen Victoria has given way to one of King Edward.
Robert is discovered, immersed in affairs. He is now a middle-aged man who has long forgotten how to fling cards into a hat. To him comes Sennet, a brisk clerk. )
Sennet. Mrs. Philip Ross to see you, sir.
Robert. Mr. Ross, don’t you mean, Sennet?
Sennet. No, sir.
Robert. Ha. It was Mr. Ross I was expecting. Show her in. (Frowning) And, Sennet, less row in the office, if you please.
Sennet (glibly). It was those young clerks, sir ——
Robert. They mustn’t be young here, or they go. Tell them that.
Sennet (glad to be gone). Yes, sir.
(He shows in Mrs. Ross. We have not seen her for twenty years and would certainly not recognise her in the street. So shrinking her first entrance into this room, but she sails in now like a galleon. She is not so much dressed as richly upholstered. She is very sure of herself. Yet she is not a different woman from the Emily we remember; the pity of it is that somehow this is the same woman.)
Robert (who makes much of his important visitor and is also wondering why she has come). This is a delightful surprise, Mrs. Ross. Allow me. (He removes her fine cloak with proper solicitude, and Emily walks out of it in the manner that makes it worth possessing). This chair, alas, is the best I can offer you.
Emily (who is still a good-natured woman if you attempt no nonsense with her). It will do quite well.
Robert (gallantly). Honoured to see you in it.
Emily (smartly). Not you. You were saying to yourself, ‘Now, what brings the woman here?’
Robert. Honestly, I ——
Emily. And I’ll tell you. You are expecting Mr. Ross, I think?
Robert (cautiously). Well — ah ——
Emily. Pooh. The cunning of you lawyers. I know he has an appointment with you, and that is why I’ve come.
Robert. He arranged with you to meet him here?
Emily (preening herself). I wouldn’t say that. I don’t know that he will be specially pleased to find me here when he comes.
Robert (guardedly). Oh?
Emily (who is now a woman that goes straight to her goal). I know what he is coming about. To make a new will.
Robert (admitting it). After all, not the first he has made with us, Mrs. Ross.
Emily (promptly). No, the fourth.
Robert (warming his hands at the thought). Such a wonderful career. He goes from success to success.
Emily (complacently). Yes, we’re big folk.
Robert. You are indeed.
Emily (sharply). But the last will covered everything.
Robert (on guard again). Of course it is a matter I cannot well discuss even with you. And I know nothing of his intentions.
Emily. Well, I suspect some of them.
Robert. Ah.
Emily. And that’s why I’m here. Just to see that he does nothing foolish.
(She settles herself more comfortably as Mr. Ross is announced. A city magnate walks in. You know he is that before you see that he is Philip Ross.)
Philip (speaking as he enters). How do, Devizes, how do. Well, let us get at this thing at once. Time is money, you know, time is money. (Then he sees his wife.) Hello, Emily.
Emily (unperturbed). You didn’t ask me to come, Philip, but I thought I might as well.
Philip. That’s all right.
(His brow had lowered at first sight of her, but now he gives her cleverness a grin of respect.)
Emily. It is the first will you have made without taking me into your confidence.
Philip. No important changes. I just thought to save you the — unpleasantness of the thing.
Emily. How do you mean?
Philip (fidgeting). Well, one can’t draw up a will without feeling for the moment that he is bringing his end nearer. Is that not so, Devizes?
Robert (who will quite possibly die intestate). Some do have that feeling.
Emily. But what nonsense. How can it have any effect of that kind one way or the other.
Robert. Quite so.
Emily (reprovingly). Just silly sentiment, Philip. I would have thought it would be a pleasure to you, handling such a big sum.
Philip (wincing). Not handling it, giving it up.
Emily. To those you love.
Philip (rather shortly). I’m not giving it up yet. You talk as if I was on my last legs.
Emily (imperturbably). Not at all. It’s you that are doing that.
Robert (to the rescue). Here is my copy of the last will. I don’t know if you would like me to read it out?
Philip. It’s hardly necessary.
Emily. We have our own copy at home and we know it well.
Philip (sitting back in his chair). What do you think I’m worth to-day, Devizes?
(Every one smiles. It is as if the sun had peeped in at the window.)
Robert. I daren’t guess.
Philip. An easy seventy thou.
Emily. And that’s not counting the house and the country cottage. We call it a cottage. You should see it!
Robert. I have heard of it.
Emily (more sharply, though the sun still shines). Well, go on, Philip. I suppose you are not thinking of cutting me out of anything.
Philip (heartily). Of course not. There will be more to you than ever.
Emily (coolly). There’s more to leave.
Philip (hesitating). At the same time ——
Emily. Well? It’s to be mine absolutely of course. Not just a life interest.
Philip (doggedly). That is a change I was thinking of.
Emily. Just what I have suspected for days. Will you please to say why?
Robert (whose client after all is the man). Of course it is quite common.
Emily. I didn’t think my husband was quite common.
Robert. I only mean that as there are children ——
Philip. That’s what I mean too.
Emily. And I can’t be trusted to leave my money to my own children! In what way have I ever failed them before?
Philip (believing it too). Never, Emily, never. A more devoted mother — If you have one failing it is that you spoil them.
Emily. Then what’s your reason?
Philip (less sincerely). Just to save you worry when I’m gone.
Emily. It’s no worry to me to look after my money.
Philip (bridling). After all, it’s my money.
Emily. I knew that was what was at the back of your mind.
Philip (reverently). It’s such a great sum.
Emily. One would think you were afraid I would marry again.
Philip (snapping). One would think you looked to my dying next week.
Emily. Tuts.
(Philip is unable to sit still.)
Philip. My money. If you were to invest it badly and lose it! I tell you, Devizes, I couldn’t lie quiet in my grave if I thought my money was lost by injudicious investments.
Emily (coldly). You are thinking of yourself, Philip, rather than of the children.
Philip. Not at all.
Robert (hastily). How are the two children?
Emily. Though I say it myself, there never were better. Harry is at Eton, you know, the most fashionable school in the country.
Robert. Doing well, I hope.
Philip (chuckling). We have the most gratifying letters from him. Last Saturday he was caught smoking cigarettes with a lord. (With pardonable pride) They were sick together.
Robert. And Miss Gwendolen? She must be almost grown up now.
(The parents exchange important glances.)
Emily. Should we tell him?
Philip. Under the rose, you know, Devizes.
Robert. Am I to congratulate her?
Emily. No names, Philip.
Philip. No, no names — but she won’t be a plain Mrs., no sir.
Robert. Well done, Miss Gwendolen. (With fitting jocularity) Now I see why you want a new will.
Philip. Yes, that’s my main reason, Emily.
Emily. But none of your life interests for me, Philip.
Philip (shying). We’ll talk that over presently.
Robert. Will you keep the legacies as they are?
Philip. Well, there’s that £500 for the hospitals.
Emily. Yes, with so many claims on us, is that necessary?
Philip (becoming stouter). I’m going to make it £1000.
Emily. Philip!
Philip. My mind is made up. I want to make a splash with the hospitals.
Robert (hurrying to the next item). There is £50 a year each to two cousins, ladies.
Philip. I suppose we’ll keep that as it is, Emily?
Emily. It was just gifts to them of £100 each at first.
Philip. I was poor at that time myself.
Emily. Do you think it’s wise to load them with so much money? They’ll not know what to do with it.
Philip. They’re old.
Emily. But they’re wiry. £75 a year between them would surely be enough.
Philip. It would be if they lived together, but you see they don’t. They hate each other like cat and dog.
Emily. That’s not nice between relatives. You could leave it to them on condition that they do live together. That would be a Christian action.
Philip. There’s something in that.
Robert. Then the chief matter is whether Mrs. Ross ——
Emily. Oh, I thought that was settled.
Philip (with a sigh). I’ll have to give in to her, sir.
Robert. Very well. I suppose my father will want to draw up the will. I’m sorry he had to be in the country to-day.
Emily. (affable now that she has gained her point). I hope he is wearing well?
Robert. Wonderfully. He is away playing golf.
Philip (grinning). Golf. I have no time for games. (Considerately) But he must get the drawing up of my will. I couldn’t deprive the old man of that.
Robert. He will be proud to do it again.
Philip (well satisfied). Ah! There’s many a one would like to look over your father’s shoulder when he’s drawing up my will. I wonder what I’ll cut up for in the end. But I must be going.
Emily. Can I drop you anywhere? I have the greys out.
Philip. Yes, at the club.
(Now Mrs. Ross walks into her cloak.)
Good-day, Devizes. I won’t have time to look in again, so tell the old man to come to me.
Robert (deferentially). Whatever suits you best. (Ringing.) He will be delighted. I remember his saying to me on the day you made your first will ——
Philip (chuckling). A poor little affair that.
Robert. He said to me you were a couple whose life looked like being a romance.
Philip. And he was right — eh, Emily? — though he little thought what a romance.
Emily. No, he little thought what a romance.
(They make a happy departure, and Robert is left reflecting.)
The curtain again falls, and rises immediately, as the engraving shows, on the same office in the reign of King George. It is a foggy morning and a fire burns briskly. Mr. Devizes, Senior, arrives for the day’s work just as he came daily for over half a century. But he has no right to be here now. A year or two ago they got him to retire, as he was grown feeble; and there is an understanding that he does not go out of his house alone. He has, as it were, escaped to-day, and his feet have carried him to the old office that is the home of his mind. He was almost portly when we saw him first, but he has become little again and as light as the schoolboy whose deeds are nearer to him than many of the events of later years. He arrives at the office, thinking it is old times, and a clerk surveys him uncomfortably from the door.
Creed (not quite knowing what to do). Mr. Devizes has not come in yet, sir.
Mr. Devizes (considering). Yes, I have. Do you mean Mr. Robert?
Creed. Yes, sir.
Mr. Devizes (querulously). Always late. Can’t get that boy to settle down. (Leniently) Well, well, boys will be boys — eh, Surtees?
Creed (wishing Mr. Robert would come). My name is Creed, sir.
Mr. Devizes (sharply). Creed? Don’t know you. Where is Surtees?
Creed. There is no one of that name in the office, sir.
Mr. Devizes (growing timid). No? I remember now. Poor Surtees! (But his mind cannot grapple with troubles.) Tell him I want him when he comes in.
(He is changing, after his old custom, into an office coat.)
Creed. That is Mr. Dev — Mr. Robert’s coat, sir.
Mr. Devizes. He has no business to hang it there. That is my nail.
Creed. He has hung it there for years, sir.
Mr. Devizes. Not at all. I must have it. Why does Surtees let him do it. Help me into my office coat, boy.
(Creed helps him into the coat he has taken off, and the old man is content.)
Creed (seeing him lift up the correspondence). I don’t think Mr. Devizes would like you to open the office letters, sir.
Mr. Devizes (pettishly). What’s that? Go away, boy. Send Surtees.
(To the relief of Creed Robert arrives, and, taking in the situation, signs to the clerk to go. He has a more youthful manner than when last we saw him has Robert, but his hair is iron grey. He is kindly to his father.)
Robert. You here, father.
Mr. Devizes (after staring at him). Yes, you are Robert. (A little frightened.) You are an old man, Robert.
Robert (without wincing). Getting on, father. But why did they let you come? You haven’t been here for years.
Mr. Devizes (puzzled). Years? I think I just came in the old way, Robert, without thinking.
Robert. Yes, yes. I’ll get some one to go home with you.
Mr. Devizes (rather abject). Let me stay, Robert. I like being here. I won’t disturb you. I like the smell of the office, Robert.
Robert. Of course you may stay. Come over to the fire. (He settles his father by the fire in the one armchair.) There; you can have a doze by the fire.
Mr. Devizes. A doze by the fire. That is all I’m good for now. Once — but my son hangs his coat there now. (Then he looks up fearfully.) Robert, tell me something in a whisper: Is Surtees dead?
Robert (who has forgotten the name). Surtees?
Mr. Devizes. My clerk, you know.
Robert. Oh, why, he has been dead this thirty years, father.
Mr. Devizes. So long. Seems like yesterday.
Robert. It is just far back times that seem clear to you now.
Mr. Devizes (meekly). Is it?
(Robert opens his letters, and his father falls asleep. Creed comes.)
Creed. Sir Philip Ross.
(The great Sir Philip enters, nearly sixty now, strong of frame still, but a lost man. He is in mourning, and carries the broken pieces of his life with an air of braggadocio. It should be understood that he is not a ‘sympathetic’ part, and any actor who plays him as such will be rolling the play in the gutter.)
Robert (on his feet at once to greet such a client). You, Sir Philip.
Philip (head erect). Here I am.
Robert (because it will out). How are you?
Philip (as if challenged). I’m all right — great. (With defiant jocularity) Called on the old business.
Robert. To make another will?
Philip. You’ve guessed it — the very first time. (He sees the figure by the fire.)
