At the window of her apartment in Hotel Bellingham, Mrs. Roberts stands looking out into the early nightfall. A heavy snow is driving without, and from time to time the rush of the wind and the sweep of the flakes against the panes are heard. At the sound of hurried steps in the anteroom, Mrs. Roberts turns from the window, and runs to the portiÈre, through which she puts her head.

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Is that you, Edward? So dark here! We ought really to keep the gas turned up all the time.’

Mr. Roberts, in a muffled voice, from without: ‘Yes, it’s I.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Well, hurry in to the fire, do! Ugh, what a storm! Do you suppose anybody will come? You must be half frozen, you poor thing! Come quick, or you’ll certainly perish!’ She flies from the portiÈre to the fire burning on the hearth, pokes it, flings on a log, jumps back, brushes from her dress with a light shriek the sparks driven out upon it, and continues talking incessantly in a voice lifted for her husband to hear in the anteroom. ‘If I’d dreamed it was any such storm as this, I should never have let you go out in it in the world. It wasn’t at all necessary to have the flowers. I could have got on perfectly well, and I believe now the table would look better without them. The chrysanthemums would have been quite enough; and I know you’ve taken more cold. I could tell it by your voice as soon as you spoke; and just as quick as they’re gone to-night I’m going to have you bathe your feet in mustard and hot water, and take eight of aconite, and go straight to bed. And I don’t want you to eat very much at dinner, dear, and you must be sure not to drink any coffee, or the aconite won’t be of the least use.’ She turns and encounters her husband, who enters through the portiÈre, his face pale, his eyes wild, his white necktie pulled out of knot, and his shirt front rumpled. ‘Why, Edward, what in the world is the matter? What has happened?’

Roberts, sinking into a chair: ‘Get me a glass of water, Agnes—wine—whisky—brandy—’

Mrs. Roberts, bustling wildly about: ‘Yes, yes. But what—Bella! Bridget! Maggy!—Oh, I’ll go for it myself, and I won’t stop to listen! Only—only don’t die!’ While Roberts remains with his eyes shut, and his head sunk on his breast in token of extreme exhaustion, she disappears and reappears through the door leading to her chamber, and then through the portiÈre cutting off the dining-room. She finally descends upon her husband with a flagon of cologne in one hand, a small decanter of brandy in the other, and a wineglass held in the hollow of her arm against her breast. She contrives to set the glass down on the mantel and fill it from the flagon, then she turns with the decanter in her hand, and while she presses the glass to her husband’s lips, begins to pour the brandy on his head. ‘Here! this will revive you, and it’ll refresh you to have this cologne on your head.’

Roberts, rejecting a mouthful of the cologne with a furious sputter, and springing to his feet: ‘Why, you’ve given me the cologne to drink, Agnes! What are you about? Do you want to poison me? Isn’t it enough to be robbed at six o’clock on the Common, without having your head soaked in brandy, and your whole system scented up like a barber’s shop, when you get home?’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Robbed?’ She drops the wineglass, puts the decanter down on the hearth, and carefully bestowing the flagon of cologne in the wood-box, abandons herself to justice: ‘Then let them come for me at once, Edward! If I could have the heart to send you out in such a night as this for a few wretched rosebuds, I’m quite equal to poisoning you. Oh, Edward, who robbed you?’

Roberts: ‘That’s what I don’t know.’ He continues to wipe his head with his handkerchief, and to sputter a little from time to time. ‘All I know is that when I got—phew!—to that dark spot by the Frog Pond, just by—phew!—that little group of—phew!—evergreens, you know—phew!—’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Yes, yes; go on! I can bear it, Edward.’

Roberts: ‘—a man brushed heavily against me, and then hurried on in the other direction. I had unbuttoned my coat to look at my watch under the lamp-post, and after he struck against me I clapped my hand to my waistcoat, and—phew!—’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Waistcoat! Yes!’

Roberts: ‘—found my watch gone.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘What! Your watch? The watch Willis gave you? Made out of the gold that he mined himself when he first went out to California? Don’t ask me to believe it, Edward! But I’m only too glad that you escaped with your life. Let them have the watch and welcome. Oh, nay dear, dear husband!’ She approaches him with extended arms, and then suddenly arrests herself. ‘But you’ve got it on!’

Roberts, with as much returning dignity as can comport with his dishevelled appearance: ‘Yes; I took it from him.’ At his wife’s speechless astonishment: ‘I went after him and took it from him.’ He sits down, and continues with resolute calm, while his wife remains standing before him motionless: ‘Agnes, I don’t know how I came to do it. I wouldn’t have believed I could do it. I’ve never thought that I had much courage—physical courage; but when I felt my watch was gone, a sort of frenzy came over me. I wasn’t hurt; and for the first time in my life I realised what an abominable outrage theft was. The thought that at six o’clock in the evening, in the very heart of a great city like Boston, an inoffensive citizen could be assaulted and robbed, made me furious. I didn’t call out. I simply buttoned my coat tight round me and turned and ran after the fellow.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Edward!’

Roberts: ‘Yes, I did. He hadn’t got half-a-dozen rods away—it all took place in a flash—and I could easily run him down. He was considerably larger than I—’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Oh!’

Roberts: ‘—and he looked young and very athletic; but these things didn’t seem to make any impression on me.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Oh, I wonder that you live to tell the tale, Edward!’

Roberts: ‘Well, I wonder a little at myself. I don’t set up for a great deal of—’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘But I always knew you had it! Go on. Oh, when I tell Willis of this! Had the robber any accomplices? Were there many of them?’

Roberts: ‘I only saw one. And I saw that my only chance was to take him at a disadvantage. I sprang upon him, and pulled him over on his back. I merely said, “I’ll trouble you for that watch of mine, if you please,” jerked open his coat, snatched the watch from his pocket—I broke the chain, I see—and then left him and ran again. He didn’t make the slightest resistance nor utter a word. Of course it wouldn’t do for him to make any noise about it, and I dare say he was glad to get off so easily.’ With affected nonchalance: ‘I’m pretty badly rumpled, I see. He fell against me, and a scuffle like that doesn’t improve one’s appearance.’

Mrs. Roberts, very solemnly: ‘Edward! I don’t know what to say! Of course it makes my blood run cold to realise what you have been through, and to think what might have happened; but I think you behaved splendidly. Why, I never heard of such perfect heroism! You needn’t tell me that he made no resistance. There was a deadly struggle—your necktie and everything about you shows it. And you needn’t think there was only one of them—’

Roberts, modestly: ‘I don’t believe there was more.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Nonsense! There are always two! I’ve read the accounts of those garottings. And to think you not only got out of their clutches alive, but got your property back—Willis’s watch! Oh, what will Willis say? But I know how proud of you he’ll be. Oh, I wish I could scream it from the house-tops. Why didn’t you call the police?’

Roberts: ‘I didn’t think—I hadn’t time to think.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘No matter. I’m glad you have all the glory of it. I don’t believe you half realise what you’ve been through now. And perhaps this was the robbers’ first attempt, and it will be a lesson to them. Oh yes! I’m glad you let them escape, Edward. They may have families. If every one behaved as you’ve done, there would soon be an end of garotting. But, oh! I can’t bear to think of the danger you’ve run. And I want you to promise me never, never to undertake such a thing again!’

Roberts: ‘Well, I don’t know—’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Yes, yes; you must! Suppose you had got killed in that awful struggle with those reckless wretches tugging to get away from you! Think of the children! Why, you might have burst a blood-vessel! Will you promise, Edward? Promise this instant, on your bended knees, just as if you were in a court of justice!’ Mrs. Roberts’s excitement mounts, and she flings herself at her husband’s feet, and pulls his face down to hers with the arm she has thrown about his neck. ‘Will you promise?’

II
MRS. CRASHAW; MR. AND MRS. ROBERTS

Mrs. Crashaw, entering unobserved: ‘Promise you what, Agnes? The man doesn’t smoke now. What more can you ask?’ She starts back from the spectacle of Roberts’s disordered dress. ‘Why, what’s happened to you, Edward?’

Mrs. Roberts, springing to her feet: ‘Oh, you may well ask that, Aunt Mary! Happened? You ought to fall down and worship him! And you will when you know what he’s been through. He’s been robbed!’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Robbed? What nonsense! Who robbed him? Where was he robbed?’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘He was attacked by two garotters—’

Roberts: ‘No, no—’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Don’t speak, Edward! I know there were two. On the Common. Not half an hour ago. As he was going to get me some rosebuds. In the midst of this terrible storm.’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Is this true, Edward?’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Don’t answer, Edward! One of the band threw his arm round Edward’s neck—so.’ She illustrates by garotting Mrs. Crashaw, who disengages herself with difficulty.

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Mercy, child! What are you doing to my lace?’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘And the other one snatched his watch, and ran as fast as he could.’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Willis’s watch? Why, he’s got it on.’

Mrs. Roberts, with proud delight: ‘Exactly what I said when he told me.’ Then, very solemnly: ‘And do you know why he’s got it on?—’Sh, Edward! I will tell! Because he ran after them and took it back again.’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Why, they might have killed him!’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Of course they might. But Edward didn’t care. The idea of being robbed at six o’clock on the Common made him so furious that he scorned to cry out for help, or call the police, or anything; but he just ran after them—’

Roberts: ‘Agnes! Agnes! There was only one.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Nonsense, Edward! How could you tell, so excited as you were?—And caught hold of the largest of the wretches—a perfect young giant—’

Roberts: ‘No, no; not a giant, my dear.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Well, he was young, anyway!—And flung him on the ground.’ She advances upon Mrs. Crashaw in her enthusiasm.

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Don’t you fling me on the ground, Agnes! I won’t have it.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘And tore his coat open, while all the rest were tugging at him, and snatched his watch, and then—and then just walked coolly away.’

Roberts: ‘No, my dear; I ran as fast as I could.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Well, ran. It’s quite the same thing, and I’m just as proud of you as if you had walked. Of course you were not going to throw your life away.’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘I think he did a very silly thing in going after them at all.’

Roberts: ‘Why, of course, if I’d thought twice about it, I shouldn’t have done it.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Of course you wouldn’t, dear! And that’s what I want him to promise, Aunt Mary: never to do it again, no matter how much he’s provoked. I want him to promise it right here in your presence, Aunt Mary!’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘I think it’s much more important he should put on another collar and—shirt, if he’s going to see company.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Yes; go right off at once, Edward. How you do think of things, Aunt Mary! I really suppose I should have gone on all night and never noticed his looks. Run, Edward, and do it, dear. But—kiss me first! Oh, it don’t seem as if you could be alive and well after it all! Are you sure you’re not hurt?’

Roberts, embracing her: ‘No; I’m all right.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘And you’re not injured internally? Sometimes they’re injured internally—aren’t they, Aunt Mary?—and it doesn’t show till months afterwards. Are you sure?’

Roberts, making a cursory examination of his ribs with his hands: ‘Yes, I think so.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘And you don’t feel any bad effects from the cologne now? Just think, Aunt Mary, I gave him cologne to drink, and poured the brandy on his head, when he came in! But I was determined to keep calm, whatever I did. And if I’ve poisoned him I’m quite willing to die for it—oh, quite! I would gladly take the blame of it before the whole world.’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Well, for pity’s sake, let the man go and make himself decent. There’s your bell now.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Yes, do go, Edward. But—kiss me—’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘He did kiss you, Agnes. Don’t be a simpleton!’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Did he? Well, kiss me again, then, Edward. And now do go, dear. M-m-m-m.’ The inarticulate endearments represented by these signs terminate in a wild embrace, protracted halfway across the room, in the height of which Mr. Willis Campbell enters.

III
MR. CAMPBELL, MRS. CRASHAW, MR. AND MRS. ROBERTS

Willis, pausing in contemplation: ‘Hello! What’s the matter? What’s she trying to get out of you, Roberts? Don’t you do it, anyway, old fellow.’

Mrs. Roberts, in an ecstasy of satisfaction: ‘Willis! Oh, you’ve come in time to see him just as he is. Look at him, Willis!’ In the excess of her emotion she twitches her husband about, and with his arm fast in her clutch, presents him in the disadvantageous effect of having just been taken into custody. Under these circumstances Roberts’s attempt at an expression of diffident heroism fails; he looks sneaking, he looks guilty, and his eyes fall under the astonished regard of his brother-in-law.

Willis: ‘What’s the matter with him? What’s he been doing?’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘’Sh, Edward! What’s he been doing? What does he look as if he had been doing?’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Agnes—’

Willis: ‘He looks as if he had been signing the pledge. And he—smells like it.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘For shame, Willis! I should think you’d sink through the floor. Edward, not a word! I am ashamed of him, if he is my brother.’

Willis: ‘Why, what in the world’s up, Agnes?’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Up? He’s been robbed!—robbed on the Common, not five minutes ago! A whole gang of garotters surrounded him under the Old Elm—or just where it used to be—and took his watch away! And he ran after them, and knocked the largest of the gang down, and took it back again. He wasn’t hurt, but we’re afraid he’s been injured internally; he may be bleeding internally now—Oh, do you think he is, Willis? Don’t you think we ought to send for a physician?—That, and the cologne I gave him to drink. It’s the brandy I poured on his head makes him smell so. And he all so exhausted he couldn’t speak, and I didn’t know what I was doing, either; but he’s promised—oh yes, he’s promised!—never, never to do it again.’ She again flings her arms about her husband, and then turns proudly to her brother.

Willis: ‘Do you know what it means, Aunt Mary?’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Not in the least! But I’ve no doubt that Edward can explain, after he’s changed his linen—’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Oh yes, do go, Edward! Not but what I should be proud and happy to have you appear just as you are before the whole world, if it was only to put Willis down with his jokes about your absent-mindedness, and his boasts about those California desperadoes of his.’

Roberts: ‘Come, come, Agnes! I must protest against your—’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Oh, I know it doesn’t become me to praise your courage, darling! But I should like to know what Willis would have done, with all his California experience, if a garotter had taken his watch?’

Willis: ‘I should have let him keep it, and pay five dollars a quarter himself for getting it cleaned and spoiled. Anybody but a literary man would. How many of them were there, Roberts?’

Roberts: ‘I only saw one.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘But of course there were more. How could he tell, in the dark and excitement? And the one he did see was a perfect giant; so you can imagine what the rest must have been like.’

Willis: ‘Did you really knock him down?’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Knock him down? Of course he did.’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Agnes, will you hold your tongue, and let the men alone?’

Mrs. Roberts, whimpering: ‘I can’t, Aunt Mary. And you couldn’t, if it was yours.’

Roberts: ‘I pulled him over backwards.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘There, Willis!’

Willis: ‘And grabbed your watch from him?’

Roberts: ‘I was in quite a frenzy; I really hardly knew what I was doing—’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘And he didn’t call for the police, or anything—’

Willis: ‘Ah, that showed presence of mind! He knew it wouldn’t have been any use.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘And when he had got his watch away from them, he just let them go, because they had families dependent on them.’

Willis: ‘I should have let them go in the first place, but you behaved handsomely in the end, Roberts; there’s no denying that. And when you came in she gave you cologne to drink, and poured brandy on your head. It must have revived you. I should think it would wake the dead.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘I was all excitement, Willis—’

Willis: ‘No, I should think from the fact that you had set the decanter here on the hearth, and put your cologne into the wood-box, you were perfectly calm, Agnes.’ He takes them up and hands them to her. ‘Quite as calm as usual.’ The door-bell rings.

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Willis, will you let that ridiculous man go away and make himself presentable before people begin to come?’ The bell rings violently, peal upon peal.

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Oh, my goodness, what’s that? It’s the garotters—I know it is; and we shall all be murdered in our beds!’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘What in the world can it—’

Willis: ‘Why don’t your girl answer the bell, Agnes? Or I’ll go myself.’ The bell rings violently again.

Mrs. Roberts: ‘No, Willis, you sha’n’t! Don’t leave me, Edward! Aunt Mary!—Oh, if we must die, let us all die together! Oh, my poor children! Ugh! What’s that?’ The servant-maid opens the outer door, and uttering a shriek, rushes in through the drawing-room portiÈre.

Bella the Maid: ‘Oh, my goodness! Mrs. Roberts, it’s Mr. Bemis!’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Which Mr. Bemis?’

Roberts: ‘What’s the matter with him?’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Why doesn’t she show him in?’

Willis: ‘Has he been garotting somebody too?’

SCENE IV: MR. BEMIS, MR. CAMPBELL, MR. AND MRS. ROBERTS

Bemis, appearing through the portiÈre: ‘I—I beg your pardon, Mrs. Roberts. I oughtn’t to present myself in this state—I— But I thought I’d better stop on my way home and report, so that my son needn’t be alarmed at my absence when he comes. I—’ He stops, exhausted, and regards the others with a wild stare, while they stand taking note of his disordered coat, his torn vest, and his tumbled hat. ‘I’ve just been robbed—’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Robbed? Why, Edward has been robbed too.’

Bemis: ‘—coming through the Common—’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Yes, Edward was coming through the Common.’

Bemis: ‘—of my watch—’

Mrs. Roberts, in rapturous admiration of the coincidence: ‘Oh, and it was Edward’s watch they took!’

Willis: ‘It’s a parallel case, Agnes. Pour him out a glass of cologne to drink, and rub his head with brandy. And you might let him sit down and rest while you’re enjoying the excitement.’

Mrs. Roberts, in hospitable remorse: ‘Oh, what am I thinking of! Here, Edward—or no, you’re too weak, you mustn’t. Willis, you help me to help him to the sofa.’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘I think you’d better help him off with his overcoat and his arctics.’ To the maid: ‘Here, Bella, if you haven’t quite taken leave of your wits, undo his shoes.’

Roberts: ‘I’ll help him off with his coat—’

Bemis: ‘Careful! careful! I may be injured internally.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Oh, if you only were, Mr. Bemis, perhaps I could persuade Edward that he was too: I know he is. Edward, don’t exert yourself! Aunt Mary, will you stop him, or do you all wish to see me go distracted here before your eyes?’

Willis, examining the overcoat which Roberts has removed: ‘Well, you won’t have much trouble buttoning and unbuttoning this coat for the present.’

Bemis: ‘They tore it open, and tore my watch from my vest pocket—’

Willis, looking at the vest: ‘I see. Pretty lively work. Were there many of them?’

Bemis: ‘There must have been two at least—’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘There were half a dozen in the gang that attacked Edward.’

Bemis: ‘One of them pulled me violently over on my back—’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Edward’s put his arm round his neck and choked him.’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Agnes!’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘I know he did, Aunt Mary.’

Bemis: ‘And the other tore my watch out of my pocket.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Edward’s—’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Agnes, I’m thoroughly ashamed of you. Will you stop interrupting?’

Bemis: ‘And left me lying in the snow.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘And then he ran after them, and snatched his watch away again in spite of them all; and he didn’t call for the police, or anything, because it was their first offence, and he couldn’t bear to think of their suffering families.’

Bemis, with a stare of profound astonishment: ‘Who?’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Edward. Didn’t I say Edward, all the time?’

Bemis: ‘I thought you meant me. I didn’t think of pursuing them; but you may be very sure that if there had been a policeman within call—of course there wasn’t one within cannon-shot—I should have handed the scoundrels over without the slightest remorse.’

Roberts: ‘Oh!’ He sinks into a chair with a slight groan.

Willis: ‘What is it?’

Roberts: ‘’Sh! Don’t say anything. But—stay here. I want to speak with you, Willis.’

Bemis, with mounting wrath: ‘I should not have hesitated an instant to give the rascal in charge, no matter who was dependent upon him—no matter if he were my dearest friend, my own brother.’

Roberts, under his breath: ‘Gracious powers!’

Bemis: ‘And while I am very sorry to disagree with Mr. Roberts, I can’t help feeling that he made a great mistake in allowing the ruffians to escape.’

Mrs. Crashaw, with severity: ‘I think you are quite right, Mr. Bemis.’

Bemis: ‘Probably it was the same gang attacked us both. After escaping from Mr. Roberts they fell upon me.’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘I haven’t a doubt of it.’

Roberts, sotto voce to his brother-in-law: ‘I think I’ll ask you to go with me to my room, Willis. Don’t alarm Agnes, please. I—I feel quite faint.’

Mrs. Roberts, crestfallen: ‘I can’t feel that Edward was to blame. Ed—Oh, I suppose he’s gone off to make himself presentable. But Willis—Where’s Willis, Aunt Mary?’

Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Probably gone with him to help him.’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘Oh, he saw how unstrung poor Edward was! Mr. Bemis, I think you’re quite prejudiced. How could Edward help their escaping? I think it was quite enough for him, single-handed, to get his watch back.’ A ring at the door, and then a number of voices in the anteroom. ‘I do believe they’re all there! I’ll just run out and prepare your son. He would be dreadfully shocked if he came right in upon you.’ She runs into the anteroom, and is heard without: ‘Oh, Dr. Lawton! Oh, Lou dear! Oh, Mr. Bemis! How can I ever tell you? Your poor father! No, no, I can’t tell you! You mustn’t ask me! It’s too hideous! And you wouldn’t believe me if I did.’

Chorus of anguished voices: ‘What? what? what?’

Mrs. Roberts: ‘They’ve been robbed! Garotted on the Common! And, oh, Dr. Lawton, I’m so glad you’ve come! They’re both injured internally, but I wish you’d look at Edward first.’

Bemis: ‘Good heavens! Is that Mrs. Roberts’s idea of preparing my son? And his poor young wife!’ He addresses his demand to Mrs. Crashaw, who lifts the hands of impotent despair.