A LITTLE BIT OF FLUFF

ACT I

SCENE.—JOHN AYERS’ Flat in Bayswater.

The scene represents a room in the well-to-do flat of MR. JOHN AYERS, in the district of Bayswater. A door to the R. leads into the bedroom and another door L. leads to the hall and street. There are two French windows at the back with balconies beyond. A fireplace R. above door. Mirror on mantelpiece. Easy chair R. Table up R.C. above door, with a pot of marguerites upon it—a writing-desk up L.C. with telephone. A fancy table down L. with papers on it. A plan of the scene will be found at the end of the Play. Telegraph boy’s Knock and Ring heard off L. CHALMERS, a maid, enters at L. with one telegram on salver and crossing, meets PAMELA C. who has entered by door R. PAMELA is a smart woman of thirty-five, handsome and beautifully gowned.

PAMELA. What is it, Chalmers? (Seeing telegram.) Oh!

CHALMERS. Telegram, madam.

PAMELA. Thank you. (Opens and reads—gives vent to a sigh of satisfaction.) Hah! (She thinks.)

(Exit CHALMERS L. Telegraph boy’s knock and ring again off L. CHALMERS enters with second telegram.)

What’s that?

CHALMERS (still holding salver). Another one, madam.

PAMELA. Oh! (Reads again.) Yes—all right.

(CHALMERS is going.)

Oh—a—Chalmers—I’m expecting three more——

CHALMERS. Telegrams, madam?

PAMELA. Y—es. Bring them to me directly they arrive.

CHALMERS. Very good, madam.

(Exits L.)

(PAMELA glances again at telegrams, and then going up, places them carefully on table R.C. Door slam is heard off L. PAMELA surveys the room quickly and noticing her hat on table down L. crosses over and conceals it with papers, runs up to window L.C. and withdraws behind the window curtains. JOHN AYERS enters door L. He looks very smart in evening dress with coat and crush hat. He yawns and gazes sleepily around. Then crosses to arm-chair humming a tune and taking off coat, which he places over back of arm-chair, goes to mantelpiece over fireplace and looks in mirror.)

JOHN. What a face!

(Pulls himself together, takes vase from mantelpiece, places against his forehead and exits down R., slams the door after him. PAMELA comes from hiding-place and listens at door R., then picks up JOHN’S coat, comes C. and searches the inside pocket, takes out letters, but finds nothing incriminating, puts them back again. She pulls the sleeves of the coat out and sniffs twice, and along whole length of sleeve, then pulls necklace out of side pocket.)

PAMELA. Oh! Oh!

(She replaces necklace and puts coat on back of chair left of table R. Coming to door R. she taps loudly on it.)

JOHN (heard off, irritably). What is it?

(PAMELA repeats the knocking, then crosses to C.)

(JOHN is obviously changing his clothes and enters just with morning trousers and braces showing.)

What is it? What the devil——? (Surprised.) Oh! it’s you, Pam. I didn’t know you were home. Haven’t you been to Folkestone?

PAMELA. Of course I have. Mother wasn’t well, so we came back yesterday.

JOHN. Yesterday? Oh! Oh! oh! (Strolls off R. to get his waistcoat and jacket. Heard off.) Did you sleep at a—at mother’s last night?

(PAMELA does not answer, but is apparently annoyed.)

(Re-enter JOHN buttoning waistcoat.)

I say, I suppose you slept at your mother’s last night.

PAMELA (grimly). Where did you sleep?

JOHN. Where did I sleep?

PAMELA. I’m asking you.

JOHN. What a funny question to ask anyone! I slept at home—in there—of course . . . obviously . . . naturally.

PAMELA. Whenever you adopt that innocent attitude I always know you are telling me a wilful lie.

JOHN. I couldn’t tell you a lie if I tried. Do you remember that phrenologist we went to at Eastbourne? He told me I had an enormous bump of veracity.

PAMELA. This is nothing to do with phrenology. Am I to believe that you slept at home last night?

JOHN (guiltily). Y—yes, of course. Why?

PAMELA. I slept at home, too. Strange we didn’t meet.

JOHN. Yes, that is funny.

PAMELA. I locked that bedroom door from half-past eleven last night until nine o’clock this morning.

JOHN. Well, if you lock the bedroom door, how can you possibly expect me to sleep at home? Absurd! (Getting into jacket.) No, I’ll tell you the whole facts of the case, Pam. We went to the—er—opera last night.

PAMELA. We?

JOHN. Yes. My friend Tully and I. Tully had some tickets given him.

PAMELA. And you came home together?

JOHN. Y-yes. And—er—I slept at Tully’s.

PAMELA. What opera did you go to?

JOHN (broad gestures). The—a—a—the—a—that’s rather a silly question. No one ever goes to an opera and remembers anything about the performance.

PAMELA. But the name of the opera?

JOHN. Oh!—o-h! The name! (With assumed confidence.) You mean what the opera was called?

PAMELA. Exactly.

JOHN. The—er—the title?

PAMELA. Yes.

JOHN. Well—er—you know the—the opera where the girl comes on with a sewing machine—no, you know what I mean—a spinning wheel; two long plaits—Marguerite—Faust, that’s it!

PAMELA. Faust?

JOHN. Yes, Faust—with the devil in it.

(Business of putting fingers to forehead.)

PAMELA. And so you both went to see Faust?

JOHN. After that we came home. (Crosses to L. laughing). I remember making a joke to Tully——

PAMELA. Never mind the joke.

JOHN. Well, it was just then that I missed my latchkey.

PAMELA. You missed your latchkey?

JOHN. And it was rather late to rouse Chalmers, so Tully offered me a shakedown at his place, and I stayed there.

PAMELA. There’s a good deal of Tully about it. But if you lost your latch-key, how did you get in just now?

JOHN (smiling). Oh, I found the key afterwards.

PAMELA. Well, give it to me.

(JOHN hesitates.)

Give it to me, please. (JOHN obeys. She goes up to fireplace.) While I pay the rent of the flat——

JOHN. Oh, don’t say that. It isn’t cricket, Pam, to throw the rent up in my face. After all, it was you who made me give up my office in the city.

PAMELA. For the simple reason you were making——

JOHN. I was making a profit of five pounds a week!

PAMELA. And it was costing me another fifteen pounds to keep the office open. (Coming down to JOHN.) Now look here. I have enough for both, so long as you do not work in the City.

JOHN. Well, I can’t grub along on five pounds a week like some people.

PAMELA. Must I remind you that I have been allowing you forty pounds a month?

JOHN. No, excuse me, dear; it was agreed between us that my allowance should be fifteen pounds only.

(Telegraph knock and ring off L.)

PAMELA. I’m quite aware it was agreed. But you keep borrowing on account. Even now you are two years ahead with your money.

JOHN (faintly). As much as that?

PAMELA. Two years!

JOHN. How time flies! But I shall pay it back.

PAMELA. But let us keep to the point.

(CHALMERS enters with three telegrams on salver.)

About last night——

JOHN. For me?

CHALMERS. No, sir, for the mistress.

PAMELA. Oh—er—Chalmers (reading telegrams). Will you just knock at the flat next door and ask if Mr.—Tully is at home, and if so, will he kindly look in here for a moment?

CHALMERS (going). Very good, madam.

JOHN. Chalmers, Chalmers. (Beckoning CHALMERS to stop. To PAMELA.) You dare not do such a thing!

PAMELA (to CHALMERS). Do as I tell you, Chalmers.

(Exit CHALMERS.)

JOHN (as CHALMERS is going off). Chalmers—Cha—Cha—(Turns to PAMELA.) You are not going to show me up before my friends?

PAMELA. There will be no showing up, John, if what you say is true. (Moves up to table R.C.).

JOHN. No, no, of course not. (Moves to telephone.)

PAMELA. Besides, I don’t suppose your friend Tully would give you away. Men are such cunning brutes.

JOHN (with a burst which he checks instantly). Aha!

(PAMELA looks round, then goes on reading telegrams. At back, whispering into telephone.)

Give me Regent 346, Regent 346——

PAMELA (without turning). It’s no use your ’phoning Mr. Tully. I should be bound to hear what you said.

JOHN (innocently). I was only trying to get him to come up, dear.

PAMELA. Chalmers is quite capable of taking a message.

JOHN (rising and crossing to PAMELA). Hang it all, Pam, don’t you believe what I’ve told you.

PAMELA (turning sharply to JOHN.) Not—one—word!

JOHN. Why not?

PAMELA. This morning I sent a reply-paid wire to your friends at Kew.

JOHN. Harry Crombeley?

PAMELA. Yes—asking if you stopped there last night. This is his reply. (Hands wire.) Read it. Read it out please.

JOHN (takes wire gingerly. Reads). “Yes, John stayed here last night.” (Aside.) Silly owl!

PAMELA. Well?

JOHN. Dear old Harry! I expect he thought you would be worrying about me. He’s very thoughtful is Harry. (Gives wire back.)

PAMELA. Wait! I also sent a wire to your friend Blakiston at Kensington asking the same question. His reply—(handing second wire to JOHN.)

(JOHN amazed.)

—read it—read that out, please.

JOHN (takes wire—reads). “Yes, John stayed here last night.” (Pauses.) Well now, I can tell how this happened. (Gives back wire.)

PAMELA. Wait! Don’t commit yourself. I sent three other wires to Mr. Marshall, Gus Stanhope and Drayling. They all reply that you stayed with them. Read for yourself! (Hands wires to JOHN, which he does not take.)

JOHN. I can explain it all, dear! You see they were probably all together, and they thought they would put a spoof up on dear old John. They’re all jolly good friends.

PAMELA. Yes—they must all be very very good friends, or else they must have a shocking opinion of your habits.

JOHN. I can explain everything.

PAMELA. I believe you could explain the Tower of London away, but you can’t have slept in six different beds in one night, unless you were a sleepwalker.

JOHN. I still maintain that I slept last night at Tully’s.

PAMELA. We shall see. (Places telegrams on table R.C.)

(Enter CHALMERS.)

CHALMERS. Mr. Tully, madam.

(Holds door open until TULLY is on, then exits, closing the door. TULLY is rather a spare man—with drooping moustache and rather sanctimonious and miserable-looking. He enters and stands just above the small table down L., nervously twisting his hands.)

JOHN (on TULLY’S entrance JOHN makes a dive for TULLY). I say, Tully—didn’t I——

PAMELA (catches JOHN by right arm and pulls him down R., advances to TULLY.) How do you do, Mr. Tully? (Shakes hands.)

TULLY. How d’ye do, Mrs. Ayers? Morning, John!

JOHN. Morning, Tully.

PAMELA. Good morning?

JOHN. Ah, you see he wasn’t up when I left this morning, lazy beggar!

PAMELA (centre—to TULLY). I have to apologize, Mr. Tully, for bringing you out——

TULLY. Oh, not at all.

PAMELA. But we—er—John and I are in a little difficulty, and if you could see your way to answer a few questions, it would be doing us a great favour, and it might save both of us lifelong misery.

JOHN. My wife won’t believe that I——

PAMELA (to JOHN). Will you be quiet! You’re breaking down the one slender thread that holds our married life together—I want Mr. Tully’s version of last night without your assistance. (Turning to TULLY.) Now, may I ask, did you have anyone staying with you last night at the flat?

TULLY (shaking his head). N—o—not to my knowledge.

(JOHN is pointing to himself frantically.)

PAMELA. No one stayed at your place at all?

TULLY (seeing JOHN). Oh—er—(with a gulp)—John stayed there!

(PAMELA turns quickly, almost catches JOHN pointing to himself. JOHN makes a dive for book on table R.C., and turns pages over quickly.)

PAMELA (turns again to TULLY). But just now you said no one stayed there.

TULLY. We—we never count John as anybody.

JOHN (rubs hands with glee). No, dear, I’m nobody.

PAMELA (gives JOHN a freezing look—then again to TULLY). Now would you mind telling me how you passed the evening?

TULLY. Last night? (Looking at JOHN.)

PAMELA. Last night.

TULLY. Well, we—er—let me think. We—er—yes—

(JOHN points to window.)

—we went out.

PAMELA. And where did you go, might I ask?

(JOHN is gesticulating with one hand on his chest and openmouthed as in opera.)

TULLY (failing to interpret JOHN’S signals). It’s rather difficult to remember off-hand—one night is so very much like another.

PAMELA. Try to think.

(JOHN still gesticulating and openmouthed.)

TULLY. I think we must have been in a boat on the Serpentine.

(PAMELA turns quickly. JOHN goes up to table R.C. and smells marguerites. TULLY very embarrassed.)

JOHN. These are very beautiful flowers, dear. Did these come from Covent Garden?

PAMELA. Please don’t interrupt.

TULLY. Oh, now I remember—it’s about last night you want to know?

PAMELA. Last night!

TULLY. Oh, last night we went to Covent—to—to—to the opera.

(JOHN nods and smiles at TULLY.)

John had tickets given to him.

JOHN (annoyed). No, no—those tickets were given me to give to you. They were a present from Mr. Baxter.

TULLY. Oh, I didn’t quite understand. I must write and thank Mr. Baster.

JOHN. Baxter! Baxter!!

TULLY. Baxter—Baxter——

PAMELA. Who is Mr. Baxter?

JOHN. Don’t you know, dear?

PAMELA. Do you?

JOHN. Of course—he’s Mr. Baster—Baxter.

PAMELA (to TULLY). And did you enjoy the opera?

TULLY. Not very much. I really prefer the singing down at our chapel.

PAMELA. What opera was it?

TULLY. I don’t think I noticed.

PAMELA. Didn’t notice!

JOHN. Of course not, dear—no decent person ever does—it’s bad form.

PAMELA. Silence! (To TULLY.) Haven’t you any idea of the name of the opera?

TULLY. Not for the moment—er—er——

(JOHN points to pot of marguerites.)

I—er—Daisy—Daisy Daydreams?

PAMELA. I can’t say I have ever heard of an opera of the name of Daisy Daydreams.

(JOHN is now holding a plait made from his handkerchief to the back of his head.)

TULLY (watching JOHN). Was it something to do with—er—something hanging from the back of the head?

PAMELA. And you can’t remember the name of the opera?

TULLY. Not for the moment.

(JOHN points to marguerites again.)

Are—you—sure—it wasn’t Daisy—or Daisies—or Marguerite—er—

(JOHN nods his head.)

Marguerite!—er—er—Faust, of course!

JOHN. Yes, dear, Faust, of course!

(PAMELA turns quickly to JOHN.)

JOHN (just as quickly turns his back). Now are you satisfied?

PAMELA. And after you left the opera? (To TULLY.)

TULLY. We came home.

PAMELA. What induced John to sleep at your place, seeing your door is next to ours?

(JOHN signalling key in door and then lost.)

TULLY. Oh, he couldn’t find his keyhole.

(PAMELA turns quickly round to JOHN.)

JOHN. No, no, dear! We simply went to the opera and saw Daisy—Faust, I mean—came out—had a drink—I told Tully I couldn’t find my key—I suppose he thought I said key-hole—he offered me a shake-down and I stayed there. And I think such a clear explanation ought to satisfy anyone.

PAMELA (doubtfully). Yes, I suppose so.

JOHN (going to fireplace). Then everything is quite in order? (Very satisfied.)

(TULLY sighs.)

PAMELA (doubtfully). Y—y—es, y—y—es, except (picking up JOHN’S coat with left hand) could either of you explain this?

JOHN (coming down to PAMELA). That’s my coat!

PAMELA. No (taking necklace from pocket with right hand and holding it up) this!

(Pause—JOHN and TULLY both amazed.)

TULLY. Oh, that’s nothing to do with me.

JOHN. What is it, dear? What is it?

PAMELA. A pearl necklace. (turning to TULLY) I suppose you don’t wear pearl necklaces, do you, Mr. Tully?

TULLY. No, no!

JOHN. I can tell you all about that, dear. I saw that in a shop window and I picked it up very cheaply. I’m sure it’s a bargain.

PAMELA. And who was it intended for, may I ask?

JOHN. Who should I buy pearl necklaces for?

PAMELA. For me—for me, I suppose. (Boiling with rage and throwing coat up to settee C.)

JOHN. Of course—naturally. Ask Tully!

(TULLY goes to chair by telephone L.C., stands perfectly still, unnerved—JOHN below table R.C. stands blinking and looking into space.)

PAMELA (goes to table down L., uncovers her hat, picks it up—goes towards door R. As she passes JOHN). Oh! (Goes to door R., opens door.) Oh! (Exits door R. Bangs door after her.)

TULLY (flopping into chair he is standing by). Oh! I’m all of a tremble!

JOHN (crosses up to settee—puts coat on settee—then up to TULLY). You’re a boiled-headed owl!

TULLY. If you had told me yesterday that you could lie like that I should never have believed you.

JOHN (coming down R.). You did your share very well.

TULLY. What’s going to happen now?

JOHN. She’ll probably pack up and go home to her mother’s.

TULLY (rising and crossing to JOHN). John, where did you go last night?

JOHN. I took a little friend out to dinner and then we went on to the Palace, and after that we had supper at the Five Hundred Club. We watched them dancing and had a dance or two ourselves, but it’s perfectly absurd if a man can’t have a little innocent enjoyment and a couple of dances with a little bit of fluff without all this absurd fuss.

TULLY. But the hour?

JOHN. At the Club we kept it up a bit late, that’s all. We had breakfast at Jimmy Dawson’s flat and cooked bacon and eggs.

TULLY. Won’t you promise never to do such a thing again?

JOHN (crossing to L.). I’ll promise never to poach an egg in an opera hat again. I can’t possibly live without some relaxation now and then.

TULLY. But must you really go out and about with little bits of flu—flu—fluff?

JOHN. Most certainly if I want to. What have you got to say to that?

TULLY. Oh, dear, dear, dear!

JOHN. Everything would have been all right only you were so infernally stupid about the opera. I’m sure “Marguerite and plaits” was perfectly clear. If you had only said “Faust” without any hesitation everything would have been all right.

TULLY. But it’s so risky. They play a different opera every night at Covent Garden.

JOHN. I know they do. I wonder what they did play? Where’s the newspaper? (Looking round for paper—seeing paper on table R. below door—crosses over—gets paper.) Here it is. (Crosses to TULLY.) Now if my luck’s in they played “Faust” (both look at paper together) last night—here we are—theatres—last night—Covent Garden—Pictures!! (JOHN tears the paper in two—gives half to TULLY.) Here, tear that up (handing other half) and this bit too—get rid of it somehow.

(TULLY tears paper in pieces and puts bits in handkerchief pocket.)

(JOHN crosses to door R.)

TULLY. How do you think you will get out of this?

JOHN (crossing C.). Quite easily. Tact and diplomacy. (Offering his head to TULLY.) Feel that bump—they say I have a bigger bump of tact than Lloyd George.

TULLY (feeling head). Oh, I say——

(Both stand to attention as PAMELA re-enters R., wearing a hat and carrying a small suitcase—the pearl necklace is also in her hand. She crosses over to door R., not looking at either of the men and dabbing her face with a handkerchief as if crying. She stops as JOHN speaks.)

JOHN. Pam—Pam——

PAMELA (coming down to table L. and placing suitcase on table). I am going home to mother’s. You’ll hear from her later, and probably the solicitors.

JOHN. Well, Pam. I think you’re awfully silly, and after I’ve bought you a pearl necklace too.

PAMELA. I doubt very much if the necklace was intended for me.

JOHN. Oh, Tully, did you hear that? The only woman in the world I have ever loved! (Sinking into chair left of table R.C.)

TULLY (who has been standing watching very nervously by table with telephone L.C.: crosses to PAMELA). I don’t think you ought to say such things, Mrs. Ayers. (PAMELA shrugs shoulders and turns back on him. He crosses to JOHN.) Do leave us for a few moments, John—I——

JOHN (rising). But, Tully, I——

TULLY. I’ll put it all right.

JOHN. But, Tully. I——

(JOHN is persuaded to go off R. by TULLY. JOHN exits muttering—TULLY shuts door.)

TULLY (crossing to PAMELA). One moment, Mrs. Ayers. You know I feel somehow that I am to blame for all this. I don’t want to pose as a hyper-religious man, but every one says I’m very good, and I wouldn’t deceive you for the world. I’m sure that necklace was intended for you.

PAMELA (opening suitcase). Well, in any case, I value my feelings at something more than a—a—a one-and-elevenpenny pearl necklace. (Drops necklace into case and shuts it.)

TULLY. Really I think you are doing John an injustice. I don’t think you quite understand his little ways.

PAMELA. I understand as much as is fit for me to understand.

TULLY. No, really, I know John doesn’t behave in a conventional manner as a rule, but he is quite harmless.

PAMELA (raging—up to TULLY—then crossing down R.). Harmless! Harmless! A man who can sleep in six different beds in one night—harmless! (Throwing arms up on last “harmless.”)

TULLY. Six! Impossible! It would be a record.

PAMELA (up to table R.C., picks up bundle of telegrams—hands them to TULLY). Read for yourself.

TULLY. “John stayed here, Kew.” (Reading.) “John stayed here, Bloomsbury.” “John stayed, Barnes.” Kensington—Bloomsbury to Kew—Kew to Kensington—Kensington to Barnes. It couldn’t be done in the time! Oh, I can quite understand this. It’s all John’s friends—all anxious to shield him from the fury of his wife.

PAMELA (angrily). I beg your pardon!

(Snatches telegrams from TULLY.)

TULLY. I mean all anxious to shield him from your displeasure. John has such a host of good friends. There isn’t one who wouldn’t lay down his life for him. Why, John’s one of the best in the world.

PAMELA (crossing to L. by table down L.). I am quite a broad-minded woman, Mr. Tully. I don’t expect men to be angels. But there’s a limit to everything.

TULLY (crossing to PAMELA). I quite agree with you in that, Mrs. Ayers, but as a broad-minded woman you must see that a man like John wants a little relaxation, and there’s really no harm if he does go out to dinner occasionally with—what was it he called them?—little pieces—no, little bits of fluff.

PAMELA (madly). What? What??? (TULLY recoils—PAMELA follows him up to C.). You expect me to sit at home while my husband goes out with little—bits—of—fluff!!!

TULLY (pulls out handkerchief with pieces of paper). Well—you know—it’s a term—a joke—(Tries to conceal pieces of paper with his feet.)

PAMELA. I’m surprised, Mr. Tully, that your mission teaching should have put such ideas into your head—(crossing to table picking up case) as little bits of—fluff!—Good day!

(Exit PAMELA down L., banging door behind her. The front door is then heard to slam. TULLY stands looking into space for a time—then proceeds to pick up torn paper.)

JOHN (cautiously peeping in door R.). What are you doing?

TULLY. Sweeping up “Covent Garden.”

JOHN (crossing to R.C.). Has she gone?

TULLY. Y-y-es. I’m so sorry, John.

JOHN (crosses to TULLY). That’s all through your meddling in things that don’t concern you.

TULLY. Did you really sleep in six different beds?

JOHN. Oh, don’t be silly.

TULLY. Is there any chance of her returning?

JOHN. Of course she’ll come back! She does this sort of thing about every fortnight.

TULLY. Do you sleep out as often as that?

JOHN. No! She does it with the idea that I shall go and fetch her back.

TULLY. Well, why don’t you?

JOHN. Because once I do that my authority will be gone. She’ll treat me like a child, and leave home two or three times a day. Things have never gone so badly as this before.

TULLY. I think the pearl necklace did it, don’t you?

JOHN (suddenly aroused). Hah, the necklace! Where is it? Where is it? Have you got it?

TULLY. No, no. Why should I have it?

JOHN. Then where is it? Where is it? The necklace! (Looks about wildly for the necklace.) Look for it! Don’t stand there like an anÆmic camel! Look for it!

TULLY (jumping about in a silly fashion). Where? Where?

JOHN. Everywhere—all over the place. Perhaps it’s on the floor—look for it. (Both look about for the necklace.) Ah, it may be under the table. (They both dive under the table from opposite ends—their heads collide—they both come up holding their heads in pain.) Can’t you see where you are going?

TULLY. I can only see stars.

JOHN. Your head’s like iron. But where’s the necklace? (Moving arm-chair from right of table R.C. to below table about 3 feet.) That’s the question.

TULLY. I’ve got it!

JOHN. Where?

TULLY. No—not the necklace—I’ve got an idea.

JOHN. Oh——

TULLY. I expect Mrs. Ayers took it. You practically gave it to her, didn’t you?

JOHN (aghast). You think she took it?

TULLY. Yes, I remember now—while I was talking to her just now I saw her drop it into her bag.

JOHN. Are you sure? (Crossing to L.)

TULLY. It doesn’t matter—you can get it back from her.

JOHN (still looking about for necklace). She’ll never part with it—she loves jewellery.

TULLY. Well, you can easily buy another. (Putting hand in pocket.) I’ll lend you the one-and-elevenpence.

JOHN. One-and-elevenpence! One-and-elevenpence! Do you know that necklace is worth five hundred pounds!!

TULLY. Five hundred pounds!!

JOHN. Yes. It was lent to little Mamie Scott by the Rajah of Changpoor. She took a fancy to the necklace, and he lent it to her to wear just for the evening. There was a big crush as we came out of the club last night, and Mamie asked me to put the necklace in my pocket for safety’s sake, as the clasp was broken, which I did, of course. Apparently we both forgot all about it. She’ll be in an awful stew. She promised faithfully to return the necklace to the Rajah to-day.

TULLY. Oh, dear, dear, dear!

JOHN. Oh, damn, damn, damn! What can I do? What can I say? What will Mamie think of me.

(TULLY is twiddling the chair R.C. about.)

Oh, don’t footle about with that chair!

TULLY (stops footling). Is there no way of getting it back from Mrs. Ayers.

JOHN. I tell you she’ll never part with it, and she may not be home for several days, possibly a week. In the meantime the Rajah will be clamouring for his pearls . . . I shall be branded as a—well, there’s no telling what it may lead to. Great Heavens! What a hole to be in!

(Crossing to chair L. down stage.)

TULLY. Couldn’t you tell Miss Fluffie Scott you’ve lost it and buy her another.

JOHN. Didn’t you hear me say that necklace cost five hundred pounds?

TULLY (twirling chair round on one leg). Yes, that is awkward.

JOHN. Oh, do put that chair down! (Advancing to TULLY.)

TULLY (sits C.). Couldn’t you borrow the money?

JOHN (crossing, sits down L.). Don’t be a fool.

TULLY. It’s easy enough. I had a letter from someone only this morning, offering to lend me any sum from £10 to £10,000, without any security. He enclosed his photograph. Such a nice, kind, honest open face.

JOHN. You innocent lamb! Well, I suppose if I can’t give it back I shall have to find the money.

TULLY. You will? Oh, it is a fix! (Biting his nails.)

JOHN (rises, goes up to TULLY). I say, Tully, I suppose you don’t happen to have five hundred that you don’t want.

TULLY. Not that I don’t want.

JOHN. Poor old Tully! You never seem to have any money. I don’t know what you live on. Are you sure you get enough to eat?

TULLY. You know, John, if I had the money I couldn’t refuse you. You do know that, don’t you, John?

JOHN (patting TULLY on back). Of course I do, dear old Tully! Dear old Tully! (Comes down L.)

TULLY (rising). Why do you always call me by my surname, when I call you John. I do wish you’d call me Bertram. Do you know when anyone calls me Bertram, I feel I could do any mortal thing in the world for them!

JOHN. Well, you get me out of this hole and I’ll call you Bertram till I bust. (Sits down L.)

TULLY. Will you? I think I know where you could get the money. (Comes down to JOHN.)

JOHN (rising suddenly). Where? Where?

TULLY. Sit down! (JOHN sits.) Keep calm! Dick Turner thinks the world of you. . . .

JOHN. Yes, I know, but he hasn’t much money.

TULLY. I know, I know. But he was in a ’bus accident last Friday and he’s claiming £500 compensation from the Motor ’Bus company.

JOHN. He’ll never get it.

TULLY. Oh, I think he will. In fact it’s nearly settled. And if you approach him in the matter, I feel sure he would lend you the £500.

JOHN. But I was in that ’bus with him coming from Kew.

TULLY. That’s right—coming from Kew.

JOHN. And if Dick Turner could get five hundred, I’m positive I could.

TULLY. Well, I’m sure he’s going to get it.

JOHN. But there was scarcely any damage done. I didn’t receive a scratch, neither did Dick Turner. I was thrown forward on top of a fat old woman sitting opposite.

TULLY. Still you can’t always tell at the time of the accident—injuries sometimes develop afterwards.

(Business of drawing patterns on carpet with foot.)

JOHN (rises and crosses slowly R.). Yes, of course, especially after you’ve seen your solicitor.

TULLY. Er—I——

JOHN. Don’t talk to me—my brain’s working.

TULLY. You know, John, in all cases of ’bus accidents the ’Bus Companies have to pay out according to what the doctors think.

JOHN. The question is to make the doctors think. Why should Dick Turner get five hundred, and I get nothing?

TULLY. I suppose he was really injured.

JOHN. Don’t talk, don’t talk! I’ve got the most wonderful brain. (Hand to forehead.)

TULLY. Have you?

JOHN. Yes. Feel that bump!

TULLY (obeys). Oh!—did you get that under the table?

JOHN. No, silly ass, it’s a natural bump. (Excited.) It’s all so simple. It’s wonderful how I get myself out of every difficulty. Now, will you run down to the doctor’s for me! (Going up to telephone.) The last block of flats, you know?

TULLY. Doctor Green?

JOHN (looking through Telephone Book for number). Yes! That’s it. Ask him to call at once.

TULLY. John! You’re not going to pretend to the doctor that you are ill?

JOHN. Now don’t ask any questions.

TULLY. Oh no, John! (Working fingers along back of arm-chair.) I couldn’t do a thing like that. It’s not fair—it’s not honest. (Protests in action against the suggestion until JOHN says “BERTRAM,” when a broad smile comes across his face.)

JOHN (rising and crossing to TULLY—pleadingly). Bertram! (Affectionately.) Bertram!!!

TULLY (giggles affectedly). Oh! John! (Crossing to door L.) Oh! John! (Giggles.) Oh! John! (Giggles till off door L. Quick exit.)

JOHN (goes to telephone. At ’phone). Give me Regent one—four—three—six quickly, Miss, please. . . . Yes. . . . Hullo! hullo! are you the Motor Omnibus Company? . . . Yes, yes. Mrs. John Ayers speaking! (Adopting a feminine voice.) Mrs. John Ayers. . . . Yes . . . my husband was in that terrible ’bus accident you had last Friday coming from Kew. Yes . . . my husband! And he’s very ill indeed. Yes . . . eh? (Dropping into his own voice.) Oh! speak up! I can’t hear a damned word you’re saying. (Hand over ’phone for a second—then resuming in feminine voice.) Oh! He didn’t notice it at the time. He has witnesses to prove everything. Eh? I can’t hear. . . . Oh, you’ll send your inspector round to look into it . . . eh? You’ll send your inspector round to look into it. Oh, very good, but don’t send him immediately as the patient is asleep. Eh? . . . yes, in about half an hour’s time . . . we’re quite close to your depot . . . we’re quite close to your depot . . . number 13 St. Mark’s Mansions. Yes—very well—thank you—Good-bye! (Puts up receiver. He looks round and takes off jacket. CHALMERS enters L.) What is it? What is it?

CHALMERS. A lady to see you, sir. (She smiles.)

JOHN. To see me! What are you laughing at?

CHALMERS (pulls herself together). Miss Scott, I think she said.

JOHN. Good Lord! Oh—I’m busy—dressing for breakfast—not at home. (Crossing to door R.)

(CHALMERS is going.)

Wait! I’d better see her. (Opens door with right hand—holding it open.) Show her in here.

CHALMERS (in doubt). In there, sir? (Pointing to door R.)

JOHN (pointing back into room with left hand). No. Here! Here! (Exit down R.)

(Exit CHALMERS door L.)

(CHALMERS shows in MAMIE SCOTT. She is a girl about 27, petite but pretty, dressed with many furbelows and other fluffy things. She looks around, as she enters, with a swagger air, sees CHALMERS smiling, freezes her with a look. CHALMERS straightens herself and goes off door L. with nose in air. MAMIE looks round room humming or singing a tune, places parasol on settee at back, and comes down C. Enter JOHN, undoing collar and tie.)

MAMIE. Hullo, Jack!

JOHN. Hullo, you dear little thing! (In a playful temper.) But you mustn’t come here—really.

MAMIE. Why not? I thought you said the cat was away at Folkestone?

JOHN. And please don’t call my wife a cat.

(Exit JOHN into room R.)

MAMIE (with an elaborate curtsy). Oh, I beg the cat’s pardon. (Sweeping round room she sees photograph on table L.C.). Say Jack, whose picture’s this?

JOHN (spoken off). Which one?

MAMIE. This one, here, by the telephone!

JOHN (spoken off). Oh, that is my wife.

MAMIE. Your wife? Some girl! She’s not the sort of first wife I’d pick out if I was going to be your second.

JOHN (spoken off). Why not?

MAMIE. Looks too darned healthy—I’d have to wait too long for you.

(Enter JOHN door R.)

JOHN. She’s come home unexpectedly.

MAMIE (jumps in terror, and makes a dive for vanity bag she has placed on table L.C.) Jack!

JOHN. Oh, it’s all right. She’s out just now.

MAMIE. Phew! You did give me a fright!

JOHN. But it’s true—she is home, all the same.

(Exit into room R.)

MAMIE. Well, come out here and talk to me. I won’t keep you long.

JOHN (spoken off). I can’t—I’m only half dressed.

MAMIE. Well, I’ll come in there. (Crossing to door R.)

JOHN. No, no, this is a bedroom.

MAMIE. I’m not afraid of bedrooms!

JOHN (spoken off). Give me a minute—just a minute!

MAMIE. Come out as you are. I’m not particular.

JOHN (spoken off). I won’t be two ticks.

MAMIE (loudly). Right-o! (Sits in arm-chair down R.C. and commences to powder her face.) I say, Jack! Do you know that you didn’t give me back the necklace last night!

(JOHN enters and creeps off again.)

(A little louder.) I say, Jacko! do—you—know—you didn’t give—me—back that necklace—last night? (The words slightly smothered by using powder puff on mouth.)

(Enter JOHN in dressing-gown.)

JOHN. I say, Mamie, that hat does suit you! You look awfully sweet!

MAMIE. You go on, Jack. You’re the champion long-distance kidder in the universe.

JOHN (crossing to left of MAMIE). But I mean it. It suits you awfully.

MAMIE. Oh, awfully! (Mockingly.) Do you know you didn’t give me back the necklace last night—you know—the pearl necklace?

JOHN (hesitating). No, er—I know I didn’t. We both forgot all about it, didn’t we?

MAMIE (laughing). We did. (Both laugh amusedly, thinking it a great joke.)

JOHN. I left it in my coat, and I left the coat at the club.

MAMIE (rising—alarmed). Jack. It isn’t lost?

JOHN (pressing her gently into chair). Sit down. Sit down and don’t worry. It can’t be lost. If it is, I’ll buy you another, that’s all.

MAMIE. Five—hundred—pounds!

JOHN. Yes. I can’t forget that! But it’s a mere flea-bite to me.

MAMIE. Jack, you don’t understand, the Rajah looks on it as an heirloom—he wouldn’t part with it for the world—that’s why I wanted to wear it—it was such a cute idea. But I promised faithfully to return it to the Rajah to-day.

JOHN. Can’t you make some excuse?

MAMIE. How can I? Have you been to the Club?

JOHN. No, I can’t possibly go down there for a day or two—for a particular reason.

MAMIE. Oh, I do hope it isn’t lost. Can’t you ’phone?

JOHN. Oh, yes. I did ’phone, but the club ’phone seems to be out of order.

MAMIE. That’s torn it! What will the Rajah think of me!

JOHN. Now don’t worry. If you’ll only wait everything will be all right. In any case if it is lost, I’ll buy you another exactly like it. I can’t say more, can I?

MAMIE. You really mean that?

JOHN. Of course I do—I never break my word. I’m even going to get some money to-day—out of accidents—I mean, in case of accidents. Now, listen! I’m awfully glad you’ve called. My wife’s left me!

MAMIE (rising and throwing arms round JOHN’S neck). Jack—darling!

JOHN (gently but firmly disengaging her arms). Yes, but only for a little while—and I want you to do me a favour.

MAMIE. Of course I will, Jack.

JOHN. I’m expecting a man here presently to examine me.

MAMIE. To examine you?

JOHN. Yes, I’m very ill, you know—I was in a ’bus accident the other day, and—er—things have been getting worse.

MAMIE. Poor old Jack! I am sorry. (Pulling his face to her with hand under his chin.) But you don’t look ill.

JOHN (turning face again to front). No, I’m one of those who bear up to the last! Now, listen, when this man calls I want you to pretend that I’m bad. Of course I am bad, but while he’s here I am sure to be a little worse. Mrs. Ayers—that is me—has been speaking to him on the ’phone and naturally when he comes he’ll expect to see me—that is—Mrs. Ayers—I—I see, you don’t understand.

MAMIE (very sympathetically). Jack, dear, you haven’t injured your head, have you?

JOHN. No, it’s quite all right. Nothing to do, but—er—don’t say you’re my wife. Just pat me on the head now and then and moan “Poor John”—you understand? . . .

MAMIE. Yes, I understand. “Poor John.” But say, this is spoof, you’re not really ill, Jack, are you?

JOHN. Of course not—oh, yes, I am—but don’t worry, I’m going to get better. Just “poor John!” Lay it on thick!

MAMIE. I see—“Poor John.” (Crosses up to mantelpiece, removes hat and tidies her hair at glass.)

(TULLY enters hurriedly, sees MAMIE, makes a bolt for door L. JOHN catches him by coat and pulls him back.)

TULLY. It’s all right, John—(as he enters).

JOHN (to MAMIE). Excuse me a moment.

TULLY (to JOHN). Doctor Green was out, but they’ll send him round directly he comes back. He’s out on a case—about a poor little woman—a poor little woman—(whispers in JOHN’S ear) who . . . (then aloud) both—both doing well.

JOHN. Well, that’s more than we can say. Now I must go and finish dressing, or rather undressing. (Sees MAMIE.) Oh, let me introduce you to little Mamie Scott.

TULLY (alarmed). Is she—is she—fast!

JOHN. Fast?

TULLY. Is she a hussy?

JOHN. You’ll like her immensely, come on.

TULLY (in terror). No, no! I couldn’t. I’ve never spoken to anyone like that in my life.

JOHN (taking hold of TULLY). Don’t be a fool.

TULLY. Oh, no, no! What would they think of me down at the Mission—besides I wouldn’t know what to say to her.

JOHN. Why not?

TULLY. I’ve never met a fluff.

JOHN. You do get hold of the most extraordinary expressions. (Calling to MAMIE.) Mamie! Let me introduce you to a very old chum of mine. Mr. Bertram Tully—Miss Mamie Scott.

(JOHN crosses to door R. MAMIE crosses over to TULLY.)

MAMIE (taking TULLY’S hand). Oh, what a beautiful boy! (Pulls a long face.)

JOHN. Talk to him, Mamie. He has a wonderful flow of conversation. I shan’t be long.

(Exit JOHN door R.)

(MAMIE beckons TULLY with head and eyes—and edges down to arm-chair R. Sits. TULLY, very nervous, edges down to chair L. Sits.)

TULLY (playing with bottoms of his trouser legs and trying to make conversation). Do you ever go—er—go—go—— No! (Tries again.) Would you like to—to—to—— No! (Has another try.) It’s—it’s wonderful how the fine weather lasts!

MAMIE (very amused all the time). Ripping, isn’t it?

TULLY. Yes, isn’t it?

MAMIE. Are you married?

TULLY. No, I regret to say.

MAMIE. A bit of luck in store for some one.

TULLY. Oh, thank you!

MAMIE. I expect you have a gay old time.

TULLY (twiddling his fingers down his leg). No, not so very gay. . . .

MAMIE. I know—you’re a fly-by-night.

TULLY. No, I assure you all my people are most respectable.

MAMIE. Well then, you’re a dark horse.

TULLY (mystified). A dark—horse?

MAMIE. You know, one of those outsiders who comes up with a rush on the rails at the last minute, and wins by a short head. Do you get me?

TULLY. I don’t quite understand what you mean.

MAMIE. I mean you can go the pace when you like. (She raises her dress and picks a piece of fluff from the hem—blows it into space.)

TULLY. No, I don’t go. . . . (Sees MAMIE exposing a deal of leg—he is very embarrassed—wipes his forehead with handkerchief.) No, I don’t go at all! (Rising, and backing away from her.)

MAMIE. What do you do to amuse yourself?

TULLY. I go to chapel on Wednesdays and Saturdays (doing a sort of Skating Act with legs and twisting backwards and forwards) and I attend the Mission on Tuesdays and Fridays. (Again down to her and seeing leg, stumbles backwards and wiping forehead with handkerchief keeps up this business, doing a sort of skating waltz.)

MAMIE. Did they teach you that ragtime down at the Mission? (Jumping up.) I like your drunken step—I must get hold of that! (Catches TULLY and forces him round the room as if dancing a ragtime—MAMIE sings and dances as well.)

TULLY (breaks away from MAMIE and rushes to door R. and knocking on door—feverishly). John! John!

JOHN (spoken off). What is it? What is it?

TULLY. I’m being tempted!

JOHN (spoken off). Well, stick it! Don’t be a fool!

(TULLY rushes up to window R. then down again to arm-chair. MAMIE follows him up and down on L. side of table. She motions to him with her eyes, coyly, to sit in arm-chair, he succumbs. Sits gingerly on front of chair. MAMIE sits on arm of chair and puts right arm round his neck. TULLY snatches it away nervously.)

MAMIE. Now tell me, what’s this Mission for?

TULLY. It’s for the poor people. (Sees MAMIE’S exposed ankle—turns away nervously.) We give them musical evenings to keep them out of the public-houses. I play the flute.

MAMIE. You do what?

TULLY. I play the flute.

MAMIE. Oh, help!

TULLY. Oh, they like it!

(Bell heard outside door L.)

MAMIE (starting). I wonder what that is? (Goes to door R. calling to JOHN.) Jack! Jack! There’s a ring at the bell—do you think it can be the cat?

TULLY (rising and going up C.). A cat wouldn’t ring the bell surely.

(Enter JOHN dressed in pyjamas and dressing-gown, from door R.)

JOHN. She couldn’t possibly be here yet awhile whatever happened.

(Enter CHALMERS L. with card on salver—and crosses to JOHN.)

And please don’t call my wife a cat!

MAMIE. I’m sorry. (Sits in arm-chair.)

JOHN (reading card). Good! Show him in at once. (To CHALMERS.)

(Exit CHALMERS door L.)

It’s Mr. Nixon Trippett!

MAMIE. Mr. How Much?

JOHN. Mr. Nixon Trippett—the Inspector from the Motor ’Bus Company—the man I told you about who’s going to examine me. Sit down, and ask him to wait. Say I shan’t be long.

TULLY (perplexed). What have we got to do?

JOHN. Mamie will tell you all about it.

(Exit JOHN R.)

MAMIE. Now, listen here, Bertie Brighteyes.

TULLY. Oh, stop it! (Down C.).

MAMIE. All we’ve got to do is to keep on saying “Poor John!”

TULLY. Poor John!

MAMIE. I’m to pretend I’m John’s wife.

TULLY. Poor John!

MAMIE (rising). What do you mean?

(NIXON TRIPPETT enters, shown on by CHALMERS. He is a very ugly man of forty, dressed in frock coat and wearing spectacles. He is almost shabby genteel. CHALMERS retires—TULLY nervously retreats from MAMIE and seeing TRIPPETT advances with uncertainty.)

TULLY (to TRIPPETT). Poor John! I mean Mr. Ayers won’t be a minute. Will you take a seat. (Brings chair down from table L.C. and places it C. in a line with arm-chair R. and small chair L.)

TRIPPETT (places hat on table L.C. and coming down to chair C.). Thank you, sir. (All sit. MAMIE in arm-chair. TRIPPETT chair C. TULLY chair L.) Thank you, sir. (Removes gloves.)

(JOHN groans loudly off R.)

(All rise slowly and simultaneously with eyes fixed on door R., then sit again.)

(JOHN groans again very loudly. All rise. MAMIE gets behind arm-chair. TRIPPETT drags chair up to table L.C. keeping eyes on door R. all the time. TULLY stands by chair L. gazing at door R.)

(JOHN enters groaning from door R.; he is in pyjamas, with a blanket wrapped round him. MAMIE assists him into arm-chair, JOHN groaning all the time.)

TRIPPETT (advancing timidly to JOHN). Er—Mr. Ayers—are you the injured person?

JOHN. Oh—oh—oh oh!! (Groans.)

TRIPPETT (again advancing cautiously). Might I ask if you are the injured person?

JOHN. Don’t I look like it. Do you think I’m doing this to be funny?

MAMIE (patting JOHN’S head). P-o-or John!

TULLY. Poor John!

TRIPPETT (glares at TULLY—then over to him). Do you think it would be advisable for me to call another day?

JOHN. No, it’s all right, I can stick it.

MAMIE. He’s awfully brave, you know.

TRIPPETT. You ought to have kept in bed. (Going to table R.C.) It would have been better if I hadn’t let you know I was coming. (Places gloves on table.)

JOHN. Oh no, it wouldn’t.

MAMIE. Poor John!

TULLY. Poor John!

TRIPPETT (gazes first at MAMIE and then at TULLY). Well now, may I ask a few questions that will help me to make out my report? (Pulls notebook and pencil out and looks round for something to write on.)

JOHN. Yes, ask as many as you like. (To TULLY.) Bring that table over for Mr. Stickson Triplets.

TRIPPETT. Not Stickson Triplets! Nixon Trippett!

(TULLY brings small table from down L. and places it on left of arm-chair. TRIPPETT brings chair from left of table R.C. and places it on left of small table.)

JOHN. I beg your pardon.

(TULLY moves round to back of arm-chair on left of MAMIE.)

TRIPPETT (sits and preparing to write in notebook). Now then, Mr.—John Ayers, isn’t it?

JOHN. Yes, John Ayers.

(TRIPPETT writes.)

Oh, my back! Oh!

MAMIE. Poor John!

TULLY. Poor John!

TRIPPETT (looks at TULLY, then writing again). Tell me, Mr. Ayers, are you married?

JOHN. Of course! (Absent-mindedly taking TULLY’S hand in mistake for MAMIE’S and places it by his face. Realizing his mistake he throws it away calling him a “silly ass” and then taking MAMIE’S hand.) Yes, of course!

TRIPPETT. Any—family?

MAMIE. Yes.

JOHN. No!!

TRIPPETT (writing in book). Yes and no. What is your height?

JOHN. Four feet four and a bit.

TRIPPETT. Age?

JOHN. Forty-two.

TRIPPETT. Chest measurement?

JOHN. Forty-two, too.

TRIPPETT. Ever been vaccinated?

JOHN. Well, my godfather was Mr. Tully and my godmother was——

TRIPPETT. I said vaccinated——

JOHN. Oh, I beg——

TULLY. Oh no, he never catches anything!

TRIPPETT (writing again). Now, Mr. Ayers, you say you were travelling in one of the company’s ’buses when this accident took place.

JOHN. Of course I was—last Friday—coming from Kew. Oh! (Groans.)

MAMIE. Poor John!

TULLY. Poor John!

JOHN (to MAMIE). I’m afraid you won’t have me with you much longer, darling!

MAMIE. A-a-h! O-w-h! (Cries aloud.)

TULLY (leaning over and looking into TRIPPETT’S face). It’s hard to see him struck down like this!

(TRIPPETT rises slightly annoyed. TULLY retreats to window R., then out of window and in by window L., starts back when he sees TRIPPETT still watching and pointing at him with his pencil.)

TRIPPETT (resuming). Could you tell me who was inside the ’bus, or describe the people in any way?

JOHN. There was a Mr. Richard Turner——

TRIPPETT (breaking in). Yes, we have acknowledged his claim. A cheque for five hundred was sent him this morning.

JOHN (jumping up and leaning over to TRIPPETT). What!!! (Recovering himself and sitting again.) Oh, it’s only a spasm, that’s all, oh, I am bad!

TRIPPETT. Could you describe anyone else who was in the ’bus?

JOHN. There were two soldiers in khaki and a very fat old woman.

(TRIPPETT writes. TULLY sidles round to back of arm-chair again.)

TRIPPETT. Did these people make any statement or pass any remark?

JOHN. When the collision occurred some one said it was like being out at the front.

TRIPPETT. The stout lady said that.

(MAMIE turns away smiling. TULLY shows surprise and disgust.)

JOHN. No, Mr. Trippett. The soldier!

MAMIE. Poor John!

TULLY (who is now on left of TRIPPETT—pats TRIPPETT’S head). Poor John!

TRIPPETT (turns on TULLY very annoyed, then back to JOHN). Now may I ask—why didn’t you report this at the time?

JOHN. How could I? I was too stunned, I suppose.

TRIPPETT. I quite appreciate what you say, Mr. Ayers, but it’s one of our rules that you should have lodged your complaint at the time the accident occurred.

JOHN. I suppose if a man was killed stone dead, he ought to leave his name and address.

TRIPPETT. If he knew where he was going. But in this case the situation is rather difficult. The Mr. Turner you mentioned just now informed us that he was the only passenger injured in the accident and the other occupants of the ’bus rather bear out his statement.

JOHN. How does he know? He couldn’t see my back!

TRIPPETT. You see, you have no witnesses. (Shrugs.)

JOHN. No witnesses indeed! Oh yes, I have. Don’t you run away with any idea like that. My friend Tully here was sitting next to me in the ’bus the whole of the time!

(TULLY almost collapses.)

TRIPPETT. Oh, indeed—indeed!

TULLY (quickly and very agitated—down to L. of TRIPPETT). But I make no claim! Indeed I don’t. No. I make no claim! I make no claim at all!

TRIPPETT. I don’t think I have your name and address?

TULLY. Mr. Bertram Josiah Tully. (Very important.) Number 14 Saint Mark’s Mansions.

TRIPPETT (writing—then to TULLY). And you yourself were not injured?

TULLY. Not at present—I mean, not a scratch!

MAMIE. Poor John!

TULLY. Poor John!

TRIPPETT (looks at JOHN). How do you account for that, if he was sitting next to you, Mr. Ayers?

JOHN. When the collision came I fell forward on the two soldiers—they had been in training for months and were as hard as nails, and naturally I sprained my back, while Mr. Tully here shot forward right on top of the fat old woman!

TRIPPETT. And not hurt?

JOHN. She was enormously fat!

TRIPPETT (to TULLY, who is now up again behind arm-chair). And did you pass any comment at the time?

JOHN. No, but the woman did!

TULLY. I think I said, “Oh, dear, dear, (pause) dear!”

JOHN. Of course I shall have to take proceedings against your company if it costs me every penny my wife’s got. I mean, that I’ve got!

TRIPPETT. I don’t think that will be necessary, Mr. Ayers, our company is a very generous one, and although we cannot acknowledge any legal obligation we like to treat our passengers as fairly as we can——

JOHN. I’m sure you do.

TRIPPETT. We like to make friends——

JOHN. You have a friendly face, Mr. Trippett.

TRIPPETT. We want to see you riding in our ’buses again.

JOHN. Mind you, I like your ’buses.

TULLY. They’re such a pretty colour.

(MAMIE digs TULLY in ribs.)

TRIPPETT. And if this matter could be settled at once, I’m sure you would be most satisfied.

JOHN. I’m sure I should.

TRIPPETT. Now speaking without prejudice, what sum of money do you fancy would compensate you?

JOHN (to MAMIE). What do you think, dear?

(TULLY signalling five hundred on fingers.)

You see, there’ll be all the doctor’s expenses, a terrible loss of time and money—probably funeral expenses——

MAMIE. Ah—a—a—h. (Sobs.)

TULLY. Ah—a—a—h. (Sobs.)

MAMIE (sobs). I can’t bear it!

JOHN (to TRIPPETT). Suppose we say five hundred—without prejudice, as you say.

TRIPPETT (raises his eyebrows). I’m afraid that’s quite out of the question. Do you realize what five hundred means? I’m afraid we couldn’t entertain anything like that. But I’ll tell you what I will do. If you like to settle the matter off-hand now and give me your signature. I’ll pay down at once, the sum of—(taking note from pocket and presenting it to JOHN)—five pounds.

JOHN. Don’t be absurd!

TRIPPETT. A five-pound Bank of England note, Mr. Ayers; you could go away for a nice little holiday on a five-pun’ note.

JOHN (rises, anger rising). Really I think you’ve come here to insult me.

TRIPPETT. Certainly not, Mr. Ayers—and without prejudice I think you would be well advised to accept my offer.

JOHN (up to TRIPPETT). And without prejudice I think you’re a silly ass! (TRIPPETT rises.)

MAMIE (comforting JOHN). Don’t upset yourself, John.

JOHN. Why doesn’t he offer me a bag of nuts or a balloon!!

TRIPPETT (getting gloves from table R.C.). I’m sorry you look at things in that light, Mr. Ayers. (TULLY during this speech gets TRIPPETT’S hat and holds it perched high up on his right hand, with his other hand he holds the door L. open.) All I can do is to hand in my report. (Going left.) The company’s doctor will come and examine you, and the matter will be out of my hands. (Knocks into TULLY, sees hat, takes it, bows to TULLY, goes to door L., turns.) I wish you good-day, sir, (to JOHN) and I hope you’ll soon get better.

(Exit L. TRIPPETT, followed by TULLY.)

JOHN. I don’t think I shall—£5 for a broken back!

TULLY (rushing on from door L.). It’s all right, John—Mrs. Ayers has come back.

JOHN. What!!

MAMIE. Your wife, Jack! Hide me!

JOHN (MAMIE tries to get under table R.C. JOHN pulls her back). No, that way! Hide her, Tully. (TULLY wandering aimlessly about. JOHN pushes him up to window R.C. MAMIE gathers up hat, etc., and goes window R.C. TULLY gets MAMIE’S parasol from settee and JOHN pushes him out of window.) Quick behind those curtains and take those things away. (Throwing MAMIE’S gloves after TULLY.)

(JOHN gets into easy chair quickly, with blanket still round him—groans.)

(Enter PAMELA door L.)

PAMELA (seeing JOHN, alarmed). John! John! I didn’t expect to find you like this.

JOHN. And I didn’t expect to see you back quite so soon.

PAMELA. I’ve come to say I’m sorry. Mother has seen that necklace you gave me—(placing her bag on table down C.)—and she says it’s worth five hundred pounds——

JOHN. Mother knows!

PAMELA. But it is valuable.

JOHN. Of course it is. Instead of spending my money on riotous living I’ve been spending it on you.

PAMELA. How good of you! But do tell me, what has happened?

JOHN. Don’t be alarmed. You know I was in a ’bus accident the other day?

PAMELA. You were not hurt.

JOHN. Things have developed since. I think they are going to compensate me.

PAMELA (joyfully). Then, you are not really ill? (Goes down below table.)

JOHN (rising). That depends—I am going into that bedroom (pointing R.), and I’m not coming out until that ’bus company gives me five hundred pounds, not if I’ve got to lie there for a month!

PAMELA. Oh, don’t say that, John!

JOHN. I know what I’m doing—I’ll teach them to offer me a balloon—I mean a five-pound nut—no, not nut—note. Now please go and get the bed ready. (Leading PAMELA to door R.)

PAMELA. But John——?

JOHN. Do go—to oblige me—I’m expecting the doctor here at any minute. (Pushes PAMELA off door R.)

(JOHN signals to TULLY, who drags MAMIE out by the hand—they come down a few steps.)

Quick—quick as you can——

(PAMELA re-enters. TULLY and MAMIE get behind curtains again quickly.)

PAMELA. But, John, it may be weeks and weeks before these people pay out the money——

JOHN (holding blanket high up to obscure PAMELA’S view of the room). Now, do please, do as I ask you, if the doctor finds me out of bed, it’ll ruin me.

PAMELA (going back into room R.). Oh, very well!

(Exit PAMELA.)

(JOHN signals and TULLY drags MAMIE across to door L.)

JOHN. Go on! Hurry up! Hurry up!

(They are nearly across to door when PAMELA re-enters.)

PAMELA (enters). But, John, it’s just occurred to me——

(TULLY and MAMIE turn and PAMELA faces them. JOHN falls over blanket down R. TULLY still holds MAMIE’S hand, in his other hand he has MAMIE’S parasol.)

JOHN. Oh—er—I don’t think you have met before.

PAMELA (slowly). I—don’t—think—we—have.

JOHN. Let me introduce you. This is my wife (pointing to PAMELA), and this is (pointing to MAMIE)—this is—this is Mrs. Tully!

TULLY (drops MAMIE’S hand—thunderstruck). What!!

PAMELA (doubtfully). Mrs.—Tully?

JOHN. Yes, he was married secretly a week ago.

TULLY (boiling with rage). Oh—I say!!

(MAMIE turns her ring round to look like wedding ring and holds hand up conspicuously.)

JOHN. I’m sorry to let the cat out of the bag, old man, but it can’t be helped!

TULLY (rushes across stage in front of table and arm-chair, with MAMIE’S sunshade raised in a threatening manner). John! John!

JOHN (kneeling to TULLY—pleadingly). Bertram! Bertram!!

TULLY (TULLY’S face relaxes and develops into a broad smile). Oh, John! John!! (Giggles.)

(PAMELA and MAMIE shake hands C.)

CURTAIN.

ACT III

EXPLANATORY