THE THIRD ACT

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The scene is a well-furnished, tastefully decorated morning-room in the house of Admiral Rankling. At the further end of the room there are two double doors facing each other, one with glazed panels opening to a conservatory, the other to a dark room. There are also two doors near to the pillars that support an archway spanning the room. All is darkness save for a faint glow from the fire, and a blue light coming through the conservatory windows.

Peggy, dressed as before, enters quietly, looking about her.

PEGGY.

[In a whisper.] Where have I got to now, I wonder? What a dreadful wilderness of a house to wander about in, in the dark, all alone. Oh, for the daylight! [Looking at her watch.] Half-past six. Why, gracious! here's a spark of fire! Oh, joy! [She goes down on her knees, and replenishes the fire with coal from the scuttle. The door opens, and Gwendoline peeps in.]

GWENDOLINE.

[In a whisper.] What room is this? [Entering noiselessly.] Will the day never break? [Frightened, and retreating as Peggy makes a noise blowing up the fire.] Oh!

PEGGY.

[Frightened.] Oh! Who is that? [Looking around.] Gwendoline!

GWENDOLINE.

Peggy!

PEGGY.

Are you wandering about too?

GWENDOLINE.

Yes. I can't sleep—can you?

PEGGY.

[Shivering.] Sleep? no. As if I could sleep in a strange bed in a strange house, in one of Admiral Rankling's night-gowns. You didn't meet any daylight on the stairs, did you? [Another door opens, and Ermyntrude enters noiselessly.]

GWENDOLINE.

[Clinging to Peggy.] Oh, look there!

ERMYNTRUDE.

[In a whisper.] I wonder where I am now.

PEGGY.

Ermyntrude!

ERMYNTRUDE.

[Clinging to a chair.] Ah!

PEGGY.

Be quiet! It's we—it's us—it's her and me! Oh, my grammar's going now!

ERMYNTRUDE.

Can't you girls get to sleep?

GWENDOLINE.

I should think not.

PEGGY.

There wasn't any daylight in your room when you came down, was there?

ERMYNTRUDE.

I thought I saw a glimmer through the window on the first floor landing.

PEGGY.

Ah, perhaps that's some of yesterday's. I know! I've made up the fire; let us bivouac here till daybreak. Two by the fire, and take it in turns for the sofa. [Picking up a bearskin rug and carrying it to the sofa.] Who's first for the sofa?

GWENDOLINE.

Ermyntrude.

ERMYNTRUDE.

Gwendoline.

PEGGY.

Come along, Gwendoline. [Gwendoline puts herself upon the sofa, and Peggy covers her with the bearskin.] There—as soon as you drop off to sleep it will be Ermyntrude's turn. [Looking through the conservatory doors.] Oh, how the snow is coming down! [Joining Ermyntrude, who is warming her hands by the fire. She sits in an arm-chair.]

ERMYNTRUDE.

Peggy—do you know what has become of poor Dinah?

PEGGY.

Yes, she's locked up up-stairs till the morning. Admiral Rankling locked her up.

GWENDOLINE.

[From the sofa.] It's a shame!

PEGGY.

Go to sleep! Oh, what a scene there was! Admiral Rankling foamed at the mouth. It was lucky they got Mr. Queckett away from him in time.

GWENDOLINE.

[Sleepily.] Where is Mr. Queckett?

PEGGY.

Go to sleep.

ERMYNTRUDE.

[Leaning against Peggy's knees.] Mr. Queckett is locked up too, isn't he?

PEGGY.

Of course he is—till the morning. Miss Dyott locked him up—very properly I think.

ERMYNTRUDE.

And where's Miss Dyott?

PEGGY.

Up-stairs, in the room next to mine, in hysterics. Hush! I do believe Gwendoline has gone off. Are you pretty comfortable?

ERMYNTRUDE.

[Her head on Peggy's lap—sleepily.] Yes, thank you.

PEGGY.

[ Wearily.] Oh! [The door quietly opens, and Saunders appears. Peggy and Ermyntrude are hidden from him by the armchair.]

SAUNDERS.

[Sleepily.] I can't sleep in my room. Where have they put Uncle Jack, I wonder? [Seeing Gwendoline, who is sleeping, with the light from the conservatory windows upon her.] Oh—what's that? [Going softly up to Gwendoline, and looking at her.] Why, here's my Gwen. I wonder if she'd mind my sitting near her. [Turning up his coat collar and sitting gently on the footstool, he leans against the head of the sofa drowsily.] Now if any robbers wanted to hurt Gwen, I could kill them. [Closing his eyes wearily.] Oh! [Soon there is a sound of heavy regular breathing from the four sleeping figures. The door opens, and Mallory enters.]

MALLORY.

[Shivering.] Can't get a blessed wink of sleep. Where have I wandered to? Why, this is the room where the awful row was. [Seeing Gwendoline.] Hallo, here's one of those schoolgirls—[discovering Saunders] and—well, this nephew of mine is a devil of a fellow! That isn't a glimmer of fire, surely. [ Walking towards the fireplace he nearly stumbles over Ermyntrude.] More girls! [He accidentally knocks over the scuttle. They all wake with a start.]

PEGGY AND ERMYNTRUDE.

What's that?

GWENDOLINE AND SAUNDERS.

Who is it?

MALLORY.

Hush, don't be frightened! It's only I.

PEGGY.

Mr. Mallory.

MALLORY.

I've been wandering about—can't sleep.

PEGGY.

No—we can't sleep either.

MALLORY.

Well, I don't know about that. [Ermyntrude lights the candle on mantelpiece.]

PEGGY.

Why haven't you and Mr. Saunders gone home? You're not burnt out.

MALLORY.

Perhaps not; but Admiral Rankling asked me to remain, and, if he hadn't, I'm not going to leave this house till my friend Queckett is out of danger.

PEGGY.

Out of danger.

MALLORY.

Yes. Are you aware that you young ladies have brought very grave difficulties upon that unfortunate gentleman?

PEGGY.

[Crying.] He encouraged us! He's a man!

MALLORY.

Now, pray don't cry, my dear Miss—what is your name this morning?

PEGGY.

Hesslerigge, and I wish I'd never been born!

MALLORY.

Hesslerigge and you wish you'd never been born. [ Taking her hand.] Well, Miss Hesslerigge, the serious aspect of the affair is that Admiral Rankling has a most violent, ungovernable temper.

PEGGY.

[Tearfully.] I know. I've never seen a gentleman foam at the mouth before. It's quite a new experience.

MALLORY.

[Soothingly.] Of course—of course—and therefore I'm apprehensive for poor Mr. Queckett's bodily safety. Meanwhile I won't disturb you any longer; come along, Saunders.

PEGGY.

Where are you going?

MALLORY.

To the front door—to speak a word or two of encouragement to that young fellow, Paulover.

PEGGY.

Oh, is he outside still? In the snow!

MALLORY.

Why, he has been walking up and down on the other side of the way all night.

PEGGY.

[Indignantly.] And you haven't let him in!

MALLORY.

How could I! You forget that our host has forbidden him the house.

PEGGY.

No, I don't; I saw them roll out into the road together. Girls, shall we open the front door or shall we remain the mere slaves of etiquette?

GWENDOLINE.

I should like to let him in.

ERMYNTRUDE.

Certainly—why not?

SAUNDERS.

Come along—I know the way. [Saunders, Gwendoline, and Ermyntrude go out quietly.]

MALLORY.

[To Peggy.] Well, you'll perhaps pardon my saying that you are a devil-may-care little schoolgirl!

PEGGY.

You make a great mistake. I am not a schoolgirl; I am struggling to be a governess.

MALLORY.

Ah, I hope you'll make your way in your profession. [Peggy has discovered the spirit-stand on the sideboard and now places it on the table. ]

MALLORY.

What are you going to do now?

PEGGY.

Brew poor Mr. Paulover something hot. [Bringing the kettle and spirit lamp to the table] Light this lamp for me, please. [He lights the lamp.] If you can recommend me at any time to a lady with young daughters I shall be grateful.

MALLORY.

I will—I will.

PEGGY.

I think I am almost capable of finishing any young lady now.

MALLORY.

I am sure you are. [Looking at the spirit lamp.] Is that alight? [They put their heads down close together to look at the lighted lamp.] That's all right.

PEGGY.

Seems so. [They rise and look at one another.]

MALLORY.

We'd better watch it, perhaps, in case it goes out. [ They bob down again with their heads together and both sit on the same chair.] You'll get into an awful scrape over your share in last night's business, won't you?

PEGGY.

Frightful; the thought depresses me.

MALLORY.

Do you think Miss Dyott, or Mrs. Queckett, or whatever she is, will send you home?

PEGGY.

She can't—she's got me for ever. She took me, years ago, for a bad debt.

MALLORY.

How can she punish you then?

PEGGY.

I think she will withdraw her confidence from me.

MALLORY.

You won't despair, will you?

PEGGY.

I'll try not to.

MALLORY.

What a jolly little sailor's wife you'd make—brewing grog like this.

PEGGY.

I hope I should do my duty in any station of life to which I might be called.

MALLORY.

I'm a sailor, you know.

PEGGY.

No—are you?

MALLORY.

[ Taking her hand and putting it to his lips.] You know I am.

PEGGY.

[Suddenly.] It's going to boil over! [They jump up quickly, Mallory retreats.] Oh, no, it isn't. [Gwendoline and Ermyntrude enter, leading Reginald, with Saunders following. Reginald is in a deplorable condition, covered with snow and icicles, his face is white, and his nose red.] Oh, poor Mr. Paulover!

SAUNDERS.

He's frost-bitten!

PEGGY.

Thaw him by degrees. [Peggy mixes the grog. Gwendoline and Ermyntrude lead Reginald to a chair before the fire, he uttering some violent but incoherent exclamations.]

ERMYNTRUDE.

He's annoyed with Admiral Rankling. [The girls chafe his hands while he still mutters, with his eyes rolling.]

PEGGY.

It's a good job his language is frozen. [Putting the glass of grog to his lips.]

REGINALD.

[Reviving.] Thank you. Take my hat off, please—I bought it from a cabman. [Gwendoline removes his hat, which is very shabby.] Good morning! Where's my wife Dinah?

PEGGY.

She's quite safe.

REGINALD.

I must see her—speak to her!

PEGGY.

You can't—she's locked up.

REGINALD.

Then I must push a long letter under her door. She must, she shall, know that I am going to walk up and down outside this house all my life. [Faintly.] Bring writing materials!

MALLORY.

I'll hunt for the pen and ink.

SAUNDERS.

So will I.

REGINALD.

[To Peggy.] No—no—you do it. These men are bachelors—they can't feel for me!

MALLORY.

Here's a writing-table. [Peggy runs to Mallory and opens the lid of the writing-table. ]

PEGGY.

Note paper and envelopes—where's the—[opening one of the small drawers—she starts back with a cry.] Oh! [They all turn and look at her.]

ALL.

What's the matter?

PEGGY.

[Taking from the drawer a large bunch of keys, each with a small label, which she examines breathlessly.] Duplicate keys of all the rooms in the house! What gross carelessness—to leave keys in an open drawer! Girls, why should not we impress this fact upon Admiral Rankling by releasing Dinah immediately?

GWENDOLINE AND ERMYNTRUDE.

Oh, yes, yes.

REGINALD.

[Seizing Peggy's hand.] Oh, Miss Hesslerigge, my father-in-law is entertaining an angel unawares.

MALLORY.

Oh, stop, stop, stop—I don't think we're quite justified—

REGINALD.

[Scornfully.] Hah, I told you he was merely a bachelor! [Pointing to Saunders.] So is his companion. Give me the keys?

PEGGY.

No—no—I take the responsibility of this. I am a girl! [ Going towards the door, and looking at Mallory and Saunders as they make way for her. ] I hope you will repent your line of conduct, gentlemen. [She goes out.]

MALLORY.

I think we all shall. [There is a sudden noise, as of some one falling down a couple of stairs. They start and listen.]

GIRLS.

Oh!

MALLORY.

What's that?

ERMYNTRUDE.

[Looking out at door.'] Here's Admiral Rankling! [There is a suppressed exclamation with a silent scamper to the further end of the room.]

MALLORY.

[Indignantly.] What the deuce does a respectable man want out of bed at this unearthly hour?

RANKLING.

[In a rage, outside the door.] Confound that!

GIRLS.

Oh!

REGINALD.

[Opening the door leading to the dark room.] Here's a room here. Shall we condescend to hide?

ALL.

Yes. [They disappear hastily as Rankling appears in a dressing-gown, his face pale and his eyes red and wild.]

RANKLING.

Hallo! Some one has been sitting up—candles—and a fire. Ah! [Sniffing and walking about the room, he goes straight to the mantelpiece upon which Reginald's grog has been left and takes up the tumbler.] It's Mallory. [ With suppressed passion.] It's against the rules for anybody to sit up in my house!

[Calmly.] But I don't mind Mallory—I don't—[Looking at sofa.] Hallo—Mallory has been turning in here. [Going to the sofa and sitting there shaking with anger.] Are we never going to have any more daylight? How long am I to wait till that miserable schoolmistress releases the worm Queckett! Queckett! Uncle Vere! The reptile who has made a fool of me in the eyes of my wife and daughter! Ugh! But I must husband my strength for Queckett. I have been a very careful man all my life; as far as muscular economy goes, Queckett shall have the savings of a lifetime. [Lying down and pulling the rug over him.] Uncle Vere! Ah—I was a wild, impetuous, daring lad once—[going to sleep] and I can be unpleasant even now. I can! The Admiralty doesn't know it—Emma doesn't know it—Queckett shall know it. [He breathes heavily. The others have been peeping from their hiding place, and as they close the door, Peggy enters alone, quickly but silently. She looks for the others, then almost falls over Rankling on the sofa, at which she retreats with a suppressed screech of horror. Mallory opens the further door and gesticulates to her violently to be silent.]

PEGGY.

[Petrified.] Oh, my goodness gracious! [Mallory comes and bends over Rankling, listening to his breathing; he then goes to Peggy.]

MALLORY.

He's dropped off. Where is Mrs. Paulover?

PEGGY.

She's not on that side of the house.

MALLORY.

I've a plan for disposing of the old gentleman. Try the other side.

PEGGY.

I'm going to. [Turning and clutching Mallory.] But, oh, Mr. Mallory, what do you think I've done?

MALLORY.

That's impossible to conjecture.

PEGGY.

I've made a mistake about the doors and—I have unlocked Mr. Queckett! [She goes out quickly, Mallory thinks for a moment, then bursts into a fit of silent laughter.]

MALLORY.

I love that girl! [Reginald appears at the further door, gesticulating.]

REGINALD.

[In a hoarse whisper. ] Where is my wife? I cannot live longer without her! Where is Dinah?

MALLORY.

Hush! She'll be here in a minute. Come out of there and lend me a hand. [Saunders, Gwendoline, and Ermyntrude enter on tiptoe. To Reginald.] Now then—gently. [Mallory and Reginald each take an end of the sofa and carry Rankling out through the door into the dark room.]

GWENDOLINE.

[Breathlessly.] If they bump him, all's lost! [Mallory and Reginald re-appear.]

REGINALD.

I feel warmer now.

MALLORY.

Turn the key. Reginald turns the key as Dinah and Peggy enter cautiously.

GWENDOLINE AND ERMYNTRUDE.

Dinah!

DINAH.

Reggie!

REGINALD.

My wife! [Reginald rushes down to Dinah and embraces her frantically. There is a general cry of relief as Mallory embraces Peggy, and Gwendoline throws her arms round Saunders. Suddenly there is the sound of some one stumbling downstairs, accompanied by a smothered exclamation.]

ALL.

[Listening.] What's that?

ERMYNTRUDE.

[Peeping out at the door.] Here's Uncle Vere got loose. He has fallen downstairs.

REGINALD.

Oh, bother! Come along, Dinah. [Reginald and Dinah, Saunders, Ermyntrude, and Gwendoline go out quickly.]

PEGGY.

[To Mallory.] Rather bad taste of your nephew and those girls to run after a newly-married couple, isn't it?

MALLORY.

Yes; we won't do it.

PEGGY.

No; but we don't want to be bothered with your old friend, Queckett, do we?

MALLORY.

No—he's an awful bore.

PEGGY.

Is the conservatory heated? [Taking his arm.] I don't mind if it isn't. [They disappear into the conservatory. The door opens and Queckett, his face pale and haggard, enters, still wearing his hat and the short covert coat over his evening dress, and carrying his gloves and umbrella.]

QUECKETT.

To whom am I indebted for being let out? Was it by way of treachery, I wonder? Somebody has been sitting up late, or rising early! Who is it? [Sniffing and looking about him, then going straight to the mantelpiece, taking up the tumbler and smelling the contents.] I am anxious not to do any one an injustice, but that's Peggy. Oh, what a night I've passed! I have no hesitation in saying that the extremely bad behaviour of Caroline—of the lady I have married—and the ungovernable rage of Rankling, are indelibly impressed upon me. [Looking round nervously.] Good gracious! I am actually in the room where Rankling announced his intention of ultimately dislocating my vertebrÆ. I shall certainly not winter in England. [The clock strikes seven, he looks at his watch.] Seven. It will be wise to remain here till the first gleam of daylight, and then leave the house—unostentatiously. I will exchange no explanations with Caroline. I shall simply lay the whole circumstance of my injudicious, boyish marriage before my brother Bob and the other members of my family. Any allowance which Caroline may make me shall come through them. [There is a sound of something falling and breaking outside the room.] The deuce! What's that? [Going on tip-toe over to the door, and peeping out.] Somebody has knocked something over. [Snatching up his hat, gloves, and umbrella.] I sha'n't wait till daybreak if they're breaking other things. [He hurries to the other door, opens it, looks out, and closes it quickly.'] People sitting on the stairs! Is this a plot to surround me? The conservatory? [He goes quickly to the conservatory doors, opens them, then draws back closing them quickly.] Two persons under a palm tree. [There is a knock at the door on the rights] Oh! [Seeing the door leading to the dark room.] Where does that lead to? [He tries the door, unlocks it and looks in.] A dark room! Oh, I'm so thankful!

[He disappears, closing the door after him. The knocking outside is repeated, then the door opens and Miss Dyott enters. She is dressed in her burlesque queen costume, her face is pale. She carries the head, broken off at the neck, of a terra-cotta bust of a woman.]

MISS DYOTT.

I have broken a bust now. It is an embarrassing thing to break a bust in the house of comparative strangers. Oh, will it never be daylight? Does the milkman never come to Portland Place? I have been listening at the keyhole of Vere's room—not a sound. He can sleep with the ruin of Volumnia College upon his conscience while I—[sinking into a chair.'] Ah, I realize now the correctness of the poet's observation—"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown!" [Queckett comes quietly from the dark room, much terrified'.]

QUECKETT.

Rankling's in there—asleep. In the dark I sat on him. Oh, what a narrow escape I've had! [Coming behind Miss Dyott and suddenly seeing her.] Caroline! Scylla and Charybdis! [He bolts back into the dark room.] Miss Dyott. [Rising alarmed.] What's that? [Mrs. Rankling enters in a peignoir.]

MRS. RANKLING.

I heard something fall. [Seeing Miss Dyott.] Mrs. Queckett! [Distantly.] Instructions were given that everybody should be called at eight. I had arranged that a more appropriate costume should be placed at your disposal. [Seeing the broken bust.] Ah, what has happened?

MISS DYOTT.

I knocked over the pedestal.

MRS. RANKLING.

[Distressed.] Oh, bust of myself by Belt! I saw him working on it! Oh, Mrs. Queckett, is there no end of the trouble you have brought upon us?

MISS DYOTT.

The trouble you have brought upon me.

MRS. RANKLING.

What! Why didn't you tell us you had a husband?

MISS DYOTT.

Why didn't you tell me that Dinah had a husband?

MRS. RANKLING.

We didn't know it.

MISS DYOTT.

Well, if you didn't know your own daughter was married how can you wonder at your ignorance of other people's domestic complications?

MRS. RANKLING.

But that's not all. You have informed us that you are now actually contributing to a nightly entertainment of a volatile description—that you are positively being laughed at in public.

MISS DYOTT.

Isn't it better to be laughed at in public, and paid for it, than to be sniggered at privately for nothing?

MRS. RANKLING.

Mrs. Queckett, you are revealing your true character.

MISS DYOTT.

It is the same as your own—an undervalued wife. Let me open your eyes as mine are opened. We have engaged to love and to honour two men.

MRS. RANKLING.

I have done nothing of the kind.

MISS DYOTT.

I mean one each.

MRS. RANKLING.

Oh—excuse me.

MISS DYOTT.

Now—looking at him microscopically—is there much to love and to honour in Admiral Rankling?

MRS. RANKLING.

He is a genial After-dinner Speaker.

MISS DYOTT.

Hah!

MRS. RANKLING.

It is true he is rather austere.

MISS DYOTT.

An austere sailor! All bows abroad, and stern at home. Well, then—knowing what occurred last night—is there anything to love and to honour in Mr. Queckett?

MRS. RANKLING.

Nothing whatever.

MISS DYOTT.

[Annoyed.] And yet he is undoubtedly the superior of Admiral Rankling. Very well then—do as I mean to do—put your foot down. If heaven has gifted you with a large one, so much the better. [The voices of Queckett and Rankling are heard suddenly raised in the adjoining room.]

RANKLING.

[ Outside.] Queckett.

QUECKETT.

[ Outside.] My dear Rankling!

MISS DVOTT.

Vere!

MRS. RANKLING.

The Admiral has released your husband.

RANKLING.

[In the distance.] I'll trouble you, sir!

QUECKETT.

Certainly, Rankling.

MISS DYOTT

[To Mrs. Rankling.] Come away, and I will advise you. Bring your head with you. [Miss Dyott and Mrs. Rankling carrying the broken bust, hurry out as Queckett enters quickly, followed by Rankling.]

QUECKETT.

Admiral Rankling, I shall mark my opinion of your behaviour—through the post.

RANKLING.

Sit down.

QUECKETT.

Thank you—I've been sitting, I sat on you on the sofa.

RANKLING.

Sit down. [Queckett sits promptly.] As an old friend of your family, Mr. Queckett, I am going to have a quiet chat with you on family matters. [Rankling wheels the arm-chair near Queckett.]

QUECKETT.

[To himself ] I don't like his calmness—I don't like his calmness. [Rankling sits bending forward, and glaring at Queckett.]

RANKLING.

[Grimly.] How is your sister Janet? Quite well, eh? [Fiercely.] Tell me—without a moment's delay, sir—how is Janet?

QUECKETT.

Permit me to say, Admiral Rankling, that whatever your standing with other members of my family, you have no acquaintance with the lady you mention.

RANKLING.

Oh, haven't I? [.Drawing his chair nearer Queckett.] Very well, then. Is Griffin quite well—Finch-Griffin of the Berkshire Royals?

QUECKETT.

I do not know how Major Griffin is, and I feel I do not care.

RANKLING.

Oh, you don't. Very well, then. [Drawing his chair still nearer Queckett.] Will you answer me one simple but important question?

QUECKETT.

If it be a question a gentleman may answer—certainly.

RANKLING.

How often do you hear from your brother Tankerville?

QUECKETT.

Oh!

RANKLING.

[Clutching Queckett's knee.] He's Deputy Inspector of Prisons in British Guiana, you know. Doesn't have time to write often, does he?

QUECKETT.

Admiral Rankling, you will permit me to remind you that in families of long standing and complicated interests there are regrettable estrangements which should be lightly dealt with. [Affected.] You have recalled memories. [Rising.] Excuse me.

RANKLING.

[Rising.] No sir, I will not excuse you!

QUECKETT.

Where are my gloves?

RANKLING.

Because, Mr. Queckett, I have your assurance as a gentleman that your brother Tankerville's daughter is married to a charming young fellow of the name of Parkinson. Now I've discovered that Parkinson is really a charming young fellow of the name of Paulover, so that, as Paulover has married my daughter as well as Tankerville's, Paulover must be prosecuted for bigamy, and as you knew that Paulover was Parkinson, and Parkinson Paulover, you connived at the crime, inasmuch as knowing Paulover was Tankerville's daughter's husband you deliberately aided Parkinson in making my child Dinah his wife. But that's not the worst of it!

QUECKETT.

Oh!

RANKLING.

[Continuing, rapidly and excitedly.] Because I have since received your gentlemanly assurance that Tankerville's daughter is my daughter. Now, either you mean to say that I've behaved like a blackguard to Tankerville—which will be a libel—or that Tankerville has conducted himself with less than common fairness to me—which will be a divorce. And, in either case, without wishing to anticipate the law, I shall personally chastise you, because, although I've been a sailor on the high seas for five and forty years, I have never during the whole of that period listened to such a yarn of mendacious fabrications as you spun me last night!

QUECKETT.

[Beginning to carefully put on his gloves.] It would be idle to deny that this affair has now assumed its most unpleasant aspect. Admiral Rankling—the time has come for candour on both sides.

RANKLING.

Be quick, sir!

QUECKETT.

I am being quick, Rankling. I admit, with all the rapidity of utterance of which I am capable, that my assurances of last night were founded upon an airy basis.

RANKLING.

In plain words—lies, Mr. Queckett.

QUECKETT.

A habit of preparing election manifestos for various members of my family may have impaired a fervent admiration for truth, in which I yield to no man.

RANKLING.

[Advancing in a determined manner.] Very well, sir!

QUECKETT.

[Retreating.] One moment, Rankling. One moment—if not two! I glean that you are prepared to assault—

RANKLING.

To chastise!

QUECKETT.

Well, to inconvenience a man at whose table you feasted last night. Do so!

RANKLING.

I will do so!

QUECKETT.

I say, do so. But the triumph, when you kneel upon my body—for I am bound to tell you that I shall lie down—the triumph will be mine!

RANKLING.

You are welcome to it, sir. Put down that umbrella!

QUECKETT

What for?

RANKLING.

I haven't an umbrella.

QUECKETT.

You haven't? Allow me to leave this room, my dear Rankling, and I'll beg your acceptance of this one. [Rankling advances fiercely; Queckett retreats; Miss Dyott enters.]

QUECKETT.

Caroline!

MISS DYOTT.

Stop, Admiral Rankling, if you please. Any reprimand, physical or otherwise, will be administered to Mr. Queckett at my hands.

QUECKETT.

[To himself.] I would have preferred Rankling. Rankling I could have winded. [He goes out quickly. Miss Dyott following in pursuit.]

MISS DYOTT.

[As she goes.] Vere!

RANKLING.

I am in my own house, madam—[Mrs. Rankling enters, carrying the broken bust.]

RANKLING.

Emma, go back to bed.

MRS. RANKLING.

Archibald Rankling, attend to me. Don't roll your eyes—but attend to me.

RANKLING.

Emma, your tone is dictatorial.

MRS. RANKLING.

It is meant to be so, because, after seventeen years of married life, I am going to speak my mind at last. [Holding up the head before him.] Archibald, look at that.

RANKLING.

What's that?

MRS. RANKLING.

Myself—less than ten years ago—the sculptor's earliest effort.

RANKLING.

Broken—made of bad stuff—send it back.

MRS. RANKLING.

It is your memory I wish to send back. Ah, Archibald, do you see how round and plump those cheeks are?

RANKLING.

People alter. You were stout then.

MRS. RANKLING.

I was.

RANKLING.

In those days I was thin.

MRS. RANKLING.

Frightfully.

RANKLING.

Very well, then—the average remains the same. Some day we may return to the old arrangement.

MRS. RANKLING.

If you ever find yourself a spare man again, Archibald, it won't be because I have worried and fretted you with my peevish ill-humour—

RANKLING.

Emma!

MRS. RANKLING.

As you have worried and worn me with yours.

RANKLING.

Emma, you have completely lost your head. [She raises the broken bust.] I don't mean that confounded bust. That was an ideal.

MRS. RANKLING.

And if a mere sculptor could make your wife an ideal, why shouldn't you try? So, understand me finally, Archibald, I will not be ground down any longer. Unless some arrangement is arrived at for the happiness of dear Dinah and Mr. Paulover, I leave you.

RANKLING.

Leave me!

MRS. RANKLING.

This very day.

RANKLING.

Wantonly desert your home and husband, Emma?

MRS. RANKLING.

Yes.

RANKLING.

[With emotion.] And I don't know where to put my hand upon even a necktie! [Covering his face with his handkerchief.]

MRS. RANKLING.

All the world shall learn how highly you thought of Dinah's marriage at Mr. Queckett's party last night.

RANKLING.

[To himself] Oh!

MRS. RANKLING.

And what a very different man you have always been in your own home. [Beginning to cry.] And take care, Archibald, that the verdict of posterity is not that you were less a husband and father than a tyrant and oppressor. [Queckett enters, with Miss Dyott in pursuit; she follows him out.]

MISS DYOTT.

[As she goes.] Vere! [Rankling blows his nose and wipes his, eyes, and looks at Mrs. Rankling.]

RANKLING.

[In a conciliatory tone.] Emma! Emma!

MRS. RANKLING.

[ Weeping.] Oh, dear, oh, dear!

RANKLING.

Emma. [Irritably.] Don't tuck your head under your arm in that way! [She puts the broken bust on the table.] Emma, there have been grave faults on both sides. Yours I will endeavour to overlook.

MRS. RANKLING.

Ah, now you are your dear old self again.

RANKLING.

But, Emma, you are occasionally an irritating woman to live with.

MRS. RANKLING.

You are the first who has ever said that.

RANKLING.

So I should hope, Emma.

MRS. RANKLING.

And poor Dinah—you will forgive her?

RANKLING.

On conditions that she doesn't see Paulover's face again for five years.

MRS. RANKLING.

Oh, there will be no difficulty about that. [Reginald and Dinah enter, she is dressed for flight.]

DINAH.

Papa!

REGINALD.

My father-in-law! [They retreat hastily.]

RANKLING.

[Madly.] Who let you out? Who let you in? [He goes out after them—Mrs. Rankling follows.]

MRS. RANKLING.

[As she goes out.] Archibald! continue your dear old self. [Queckett enters by another door, Miss Dyott following him—both out of breath. They look at each other, recovering themselves?]

QUECKETT.

I understand that you wish to speak to me, Caroline.

MISS DYOTT.

Oh, you—you paltry little man! You mean ungrateful little creature! You laced-up little heap of pompous pauperism! You—you—I cannot adequately describe you. Wretch!

QUECKETT.

[Putting on his gloves again.] Have you finished with me, Caroline? Finished with you! I shall never have finished with you! Never till you leave me!

QUECKETT.

[Rising.] Till I leave you?

MISS DYOTT.

Till you leave me a widow.

QUECKETT.

[Resuming his seat, disappointed.] Oh!

MISS DYOTT.

You don't think I expect you to leave me anything else. Oh, what could I have seen in you!

QUECKETT.

I take it, Caroline, that, in the language of the hunting field, you "scented" a gentleman.

MISS DYOTT.

Scented a gentleman! In the few weeks of our marriage I have scented you and cigaretted you, wined you and liqueured you, tailored and hatted and booted you. I have darned and mended and washed you—gruelled you with a cold, tinctured you with a toothache, and linimented you with the gout. [Fiercely.] Have I not? Have I not?

QUECKETT.

You certainly have had exceptional privileges. Familiarity appears to have fulfilled its usual functions and bred—

MISS DYOTT.

The most utter contempt. Have I not paid your debts?

QUECKETT.

[Promptly.] Not at my suggestion.

MISS DYOTT.

And all for what?

QUECKETT.

I assume, for Love's dear sake, Carrie.

MISS DYOTT.

For the sake of having the vestal seclusion of Volumnia College telegraphically denominated as Bachelor Diggings!

QUECKETT.

Any collection of young ladies may be so described. The description is happy but harmless. As for the subsequent conflagration—

MISS DYOTT.

Don't talk about it!

QUECKETT.

I say with all sincerity that from the moment the fire broke out till I escaped no one regretted it more than myself. That was Tyler!

MISS DYOTT.

Tyler! What Tyler! I make no historical reference when I say what Tyler was it who abruptly tore aside the veil of mystery which had hitherto shrouded the existence of champagne and lobster salad from four young girls! It was you!

QUECKETT.

No, it wasn't, Carrie, upon my word?

MISS DYOTT.

Bah!

QUECKETT.

Upon my honour!

MISS DYOTT.

[ Witheringly.] Hah!

QUECKETT.

Those vexing pupils played the very devil with me. After you left, the pupils, as it were, dilated.

MISS DYOTT.

Yes, and you ordered them champagne glasses, I suppose! Oh, deceiver!

QUECKETT.

You talk of deception! What about the three o'clock train from Paddington?

MISS DYOTT.

It was the whole truth—there was one.

QUECKETT.

But you didn't travel in it! What about the clergyman's wife at Hereford?

MISS DYOTT.

Go there—you will find several!

QUECKETT.

But you're not staying with them. Oh, Carrie, how can you meet my fearless glance when you recall that my last words yesterday were "Cabman, drive to Paddington—the lady will pay your fare?"

MISS DYOTT.

I cannot deny that it is by accident you have discovered that I am Queen Honorine in Otto Bernstein's successful comic opera.

QUECKETT.

And what do you think my family would think of that!

MISS DYOTT.

It is true that the public now know me as Miss Constance Delaporte.

QUECKETT.

[Indignantly.] Oh! Miss Constance Delaporte!

MISS DYOTT.

The new and startling contralto—her first appearance.

QUECKETT.

And have I, a Queckett, after all, gone and married a Connie?

MISS DYOTT.

You have! It is true too, that last night, while you and my pupils were dilating, I was singing—ay, and at one important juncture, dancing!

QUECKETT.

[ With horror.] No, no—not dancing!

MISS DYOTT.

Madly, desperately, hysterically, dancing!

QUECKETT.

And to think—if there was any free list—that my brother Bob may have been there.

MISS DYOTT.

But do you guess the one thought that prompted me, buoyed me up, guided my steps, and ultimately produced a lower G of exceptional power.

QUECKETT.

[With a groan.] No.

MISS DYOTT.

The thought that every note I sang might bring a bank-note to my lonely Vere at home.

QUECKETT.

Carrie

MISS DYOTT.

I went through the performance in a dream! The conductor's bÂton beat nothing but, "Vere, Vere, Vere," into my eyes. Some one applauded me! I thought, "Ah, that's worth a new hat to Vere!" I sang my political verse—a man very properly hissed. "He has smashed Vere's new hat," I murmured. At last came my important solo. I drew a long breath, saw a vision of you reading an old copy of The Rock, by the fireside at home—and opened my mouth. I remembered nothing more till I found myself wildly dancing to the refrain of my song. The audience yelled with approbation—I bowed again and again—and then tottered away to sink into the arms of the prompter with the words, "Vere, catch your Carrie!"

QUECKETT.

But my family—my brother Bob—

MISS DYOTT.

What have they ever done for you? While I—it was my ambition to devote every penny of my salary to your little wants.

QUECKETT.

And isn't it?

MISS DYOTT.

No—Vere Albany Bute Queckett; it isn't. The moment I dragged you down that ladder last night, and left behind me the smouldering ruins of Volumnia College, I became an altered woman.

QUECKETT.

Then I will lay the whole affair before my family.

MISS DYOTT.

Do, and tell them to what your selfishness has brought you—that where there was love there is disdain, where there was claret there will be beer, where there were cigars there will be pipes, and where there was Poole there will be Kino!

QUECKETT.

Oh, why didn't I wait and marry a lady?

MISS DYOTT.

You did marry a lady! But scratch the lady and you find a hardworking comic actress!

QUECKETT.

Be silent, madam!

MISS DYOTT.

Ha! Ha! This is my revenge, Vere Queckett! To-night I will dance more wildly, more demonstratively than ever!

QUECKETT.

I forbid it!

MISS DYOTT.

You forbid it! You dictate to Constance Delaporte—the hit of the opera! I am Queen Honorine! [She slaps her hands and sings with great abandonment, and in the pronounced manner of the buffo queen, the song she is supposed to sing in Bernstein's opera. Singing.]=

````'Rine, 'Rine, Honorine!

````Mighty, whether wife or queen;

````Firmer ruler never seen,

```Than 'Rine, 'Rine! La!=

QUECKETT.

[Indignantly.] I will write to my married sisters!

MISS DYOTT.

Do—and I will call upon them! [Singing.] =

````Man's a boasting, fretting fumer,

````Smoking alcohol consumer,

````Quick of temper, ill of humour!=

QUECKETT.

Oh, you shall sing this to my family!

MISS DYOTT.

I will! [Singing with her hands upon her hips.]=

````Woman has no petty vices,

````Cuts her sins in good thick slices,

````With a smile that sweet and nice is!=

QUECKETT.

[ Writhing.] Oh!

MISS DYOTT.

[Boisterously.] Refrain! [Singing and dancing.]=

````'Rine, 'Rine, Honorine!

````Mighty, whether wife or queen,

````Firmer ruler never seen,

````Than 'Rine, 'Rine! La!=

[ With a burst of hysterical laughter she sinks into a chair. ]

QUECKETT.

Oh, I will tell my brother of you! [Daylight appears through the conservatory doors. Mrs. Rankling and Dinah enter. Mallory and Peggy enter from conservatory "spooning."]

MRS. RANKLING.

My dear Mrs Queckett, I owe everything to you,—my treatment of the dear Admiral has had wonderful results. What do you think! The Admiral and Mr. Paulover are quite reconciled and understand each other perfectly. [Rankling and Paulover enter, glaring at each other and quarrelling violently in undertones.] Look—the Admiral already regards him as his own child. [Saunders, Ermyntrude, and Gwendoline enter and join Peggy and Mallory.]

DINAH.

[Sobbing.] But we are to be separated for five years. Oh, Reggie, you trust me implicitly, don't you?

REGINALD.

[Fiercely.] I do. And that is why I warn you never to let me hear of you addressing another man.

DINAH.

Oh, Reggie! [They embrace.]

RANKLING.

Don't do that! You don't see me behaving in that way to Mrs. Rankling—and we've been married for years.

MRS. RANKLING.

[To Dinah.] But you and Mr. Paulover are to be allowed to meet once every quarter.

REGINALD.

Yes—in the presence of Admiral Rankling and a policeman! [Mrs. Rankling, Rankling, Dinah and Reginald join the others.—Otto Bernstein enters quickly and excitedly, carrying a quantity of newspapers. ]

BERNSTEIN.

I beg your pardon. I must see Miss Constance Delaporte—I mean, Miss Dyott.

MISS DYOTT.

Mr. Bernstein.

BERNSTEIN.

Your house is burnt down. It does not madder. You have made a gread hit in my new oratorio—I mean my gomic opera. I have been walking up and down Fleet Street waiting for the babers to gome out. [Handing round all the newspapers.]

Der "Dimes"—Der "Delegraph"—Der "Daily News"—Der "Standard"—Der "Bost"—Der "Ghronicle"! Dey are all gomplimentary except one, and dat I gave to the gabman.

MISS DYOTT.

[Reading.] "Miss Delaporte—a decided acquisition."

BERNSTEIN.

Go on!

QUECKETT

[Reading.] "Miss Delaporte—an imposing figure." [Indignantly.] What do they know about it?

BERNSTEIN.

[Excitedly.] Go on! Go on! I always say I do not read the babers, but I do! [To Miss Dyott.] You will get fifty bounds a week in my next oratorio—I mean, my gomic opera.

QUECKETT.

Fifty pounds a week! My Carrie! I shall be able to snap my fingers at my damn family.

MRS. RANKLING.

How very pleasing! [Reading.] "A voice of great purity, a correct intonation, and a lower G of decided volume, rendered attractive some music not remarkable for grace or originality." [Bernstein takes the paper from Mrs. Rankling.]

BERNSTEIN.

I did not see dat—I will give dat to the gabman. Goo-bye—I cannot stay. I am going to have a Turkish bath till the evening babers gome out. I always say I do not read the evening babers—but I do! [He bustles out.]

MRS. RANKLING.

Mrs. Queckett, I shall book stalls at once to hear your singing.

RANKLING.

No, Emma—dress circle.

MRS. RANKLING.

Stalls, Archibald.

RANKLING.

[ Glaring!] Dress circle!

MRS. RANKLING.

Stalls, Archibald, or I leave you for ever!

RANKLING.

[Mildly.] Very well, Emma. I have no desire but to please you.

QUECKETT.

I take this as a great compliment, my dear Rankling. Carrie and I thank you. But I can't hear of it. I insist on offering you both a seat in my box.

MISS DYOTT.

Your box!

QUECKETT.

[Softly to her.] Hush! Carrie, my darling! Your Vere's private box!

MISS DVOTT.

Mr. Queckett's private box, during my absence at night, will be our lodgings, where he will remain under lock and key. [Peggy laughs at Queckett.]

QUECKETT.

[To Peggy.] Oh, you vexing girl!

MALLORY.

[Annoyed.] Excuse me, my dear Queckett—but while looking at the plants in the conservatory, I became engaged to Miss Hesslerigge. [There is a general exclamation of surprise.]

REGINALD.

[To Mallory.] Ah, coward, you haven't to wait five years! [Jane enters.]

JANE.

Oh, if you please, ma'am, Tyler—

MISS DYOTT, QUECKETT, PEGGY, AND DINAH.

Tyler!

JANE.

Tyler wants to know who is to pay him the reward for being the first to fetch the fire engines last night?

QUECKETT.

I will!

MISS DYOTT.

No—I will. Tyler has rendered me a signal service. He has demolished Volumnia College. From the ashes of that establishment rises the Phoenix of my new career. Miss Dyott is extinct—Miss Delaporte is alive, and, during the evening, kicking. I hope none will regret the change—I shall not, for one, while the generous public allow me to remain a Favourite!

THE END.





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