Chapter II: Part 2

SIR TRISTRAM.

Yes, safe and sound.

GEORGIANA.

Safe and sound! That old horse has backed himself to win the handicap.

[_She sinks into a chair. TARVER and DARBEY with SALOME and SHEBA stand looking out of the window._

SIR TRISTRAM.

George, his tail is singed a bit.

GEORGIANA.

The less weight for him to carry to-morrow. [_Beginning to cry._] Dear old Dandy, he never was much to look at.

SIR TRISTRAM.

The worst of it is, the fools threw two pails of cold water over him to put it out.

GEORGIANA.

Oh! that's done him!

THE DEAN.

Now, my dear Georgiana! what is a horse?

GEORGIANA.

A living example to a Dean. [_THE DEAN goes distractedly into the Library._] Where is the animal?

SIR TRISTRAM.

My man Hatcham is running him up and down the lane here to try to get him warm again.

GEORGIANA.

Where are you going to put the homeless beast up now?

SIR TRISTRAM.

I don't know.

GEORGIANA.

[_Starting up._] I do though!

THE DEAN.

Madwoman! What are you going to do?

GEORGIANA.

Bring Dandy Dick into our stables!

THE DEAN.

No, no!

SIR TRISTRAM.

The very place!

THE DEAN.

Georgiana, pray consider _me!_

GEORGIANA.

So I will, when you've had two pails of water thrown over you.

[_THE DEAN walks about in despair._

THE DEAN.

Mardon, I appeal to _you!_

SIR TRISTRAM.

Oh, Dean, Dean, I'm ashamed of you!

GEORGIANA.

[_To SIR TRISTRAM._] Are you ready?

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_Takes off his coat and throws it over GEORGIANA'S shoulders._] George, you're a brick!

GEORGIANA.

A brick, am I? [_Quietly to him._] One partner pulls Dandy out of the Swan--t'other one leads Dandy into the Deanery. Quits, my lad!

[_They go out together._

THE DEAN.

What is happening to me! It will be in all the sporting papers. "Sir Tristram Mardon's Dandy Dick reflected great credit upon the Deanery Stables!" "The Sporting Dean!"

[_He walks into the Library, where he sinks into a chair, as SALOME, TARVER, DARBEY and SHEBA come from the window._

TARVER.

They're getting the flames under. If I had had my goloshes with me I should have been here, there, and everywhere.

DARBEY.

Where there's a crowd of Civilians the Military exercise a wise discretion in restraining themselves.

SHEBA.

[_To TARVER and DARBEY._] You had better go now; then we'll get the house quiet as soon as possible. Poor Papa looks worried.

SHEBA _and_ SALOME.

Poor Papa!

TARVER.

We will wait with the carriage in the lane.

SALOME.

Yes, yes. [_Calling._] Papa, Major Tarver and Mr. Darbey must go.

[_She rings the bell. THE DEAN comes from the Library._

THE DEAN.

Dear me, I'm very remiss!

TARVER.

[_Shaking hands._] Most fascinating evening!

DARBEY.

[_Shaking hands._] Charming, my dear Dean.

_BLORE enters._

SALOME.

Major Tarver's carriage.

BLORE.

Hat the gate, Miss Salome.

SALOME.

Don't risk the cold, Papa.

[_BLORE goes out, followed by SHEBA, SALOME, and TARVER. DARBEY is going, when he returns to THE DEAN._

DARBEY.

By-the-bye, my dear Dean--come over and see me. We ought to know more of each other. Say Monday.

THE DEAN.

[_Restraining his anger._] I will _not_ say Monday!

DARBEY.

Any time you like. Oh--and I say--let me know when you preach, and I'll get some of our fellows to give their patronage!

[_He goes out._

THE DEAN.

[_Closing the door after him with a bang._] Another moment--another moment--and I fear I should have been violently rude to him, a guest under my roof! [_He walks up to the fireplace and stands looking into the fire, as DARBEY. having forgotten his violin, returns to the room._] Oh, Blore, now understand me, if that Mr. Darbey ever again presumes to present himself at the Deanery I will not see him!

DARBEY.

[_With his violin in his hand, haughtily._] I've come back for my violin.

[_Goes out with dignity._

THE DEAN.

[_Horrified._] Oh, Mr. Darbey! Hear an explanation, Mr. Darbey!

[_He runs out after DARBEY. GEORGIANA and SIR TRISTRAM enter by the window._

GEORGIANA.

Don't be down, Tris, my boy; cheer up, lad, he'll be fit yet, bar a chill! Aha! he knew me, he knew me when I kissed his dear old nose!

SIR TRISTRAM.

He'd be a fool of a horse if he hadn't felt deuced flattered at that.

GEORGIANA.

He's no fool. He knows he's in the Deanery too. Did you see him cast up his eyes and lay his ears back when I led him in?

SIR TRISTRAM.

Oh, George, George, it's such a pity about his tail!

GEORGIANA.

[_Cheerily._] Not it. You watch his head to-morrow--that'll come in first.

[_HATCHAM, a groom, looks in at the window._

HATCHAM.

Are you there, Sir?

SIR TRISTRAM.

What is it?

HATCHAM.

I jest run round to tell you that Dandy is a feedin' as steady as a baby with a bottle.

GEORGIANA.

Don't you close your eyes all night.

HATCHAM.

Not me, mum. And I've got hold of the constable 'ere, Mr. Topping--he's going to sit up with me, for company's sake.

SIR TRISTRAM.

The constable?

HATCHAM.

Yes, Sir Tristram. [_Coming forward mysteriously._] Why, bless you and the lady, sir--supposin' the fire at the "Swan" warn't no accident!

GEORGIANA.

Eh?

HATCHAM.

Supposin' it were inciderism--and supposin' our 'orse was the hobject.

SIR TRISTRAM.

Good gracious!

HATCHAM.

That's why I ain't goin' to watch single-handed.

SIR TRISTRAM.

Get back then--get back!

[_SIR TRISTRAM and GEORGIANA pace up and down excitedly._

HATCHAM.

Right, Sir. There's only one mortal fear I've got about our Dandy.

GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.

What's that?

HATCHAM.

He 'asn't found out about 'is tail yet, sir, and when he does it'll fret him, as sure as my name's Bob Hatcham.

SIR TRISTRAM.

Keep the stable pitch dark--he mayn't notice it.

HATCHAM.

Not to-night, sir, but he's a proud 'orse and what'll he think of 'isself on the 'ill to-morrow? You and me and the lady, sir--it 'ud be different with us, but how's our Dandy to hide his bereavement?

[_HATCHAM goes out of the window with SIR TRISTRAM as THE DEAN enters, followed by BLORE, who carries a lighted lantern._

THE DEAN.

[_Looking reproachfully at GEORGIANA._] You have returned, Georgiana?

GEORGIANA.

Yes, thank ye.

THE DEAN.

And that animal?

GEORGIANA.

In our stables, safe and snug.

THE DEAN.

[_With a groan._] Oh!

GEORGIANA.

You can sleep to-night with the happy consciousness of having sheltered the outcast.

THE DEAN.

We're locking up now. The poor children, exhausted with the alarm, beg me to say good-night for them. The fire is quite extinguished.

BLORE.

Yes, sir; but I hear they've just sent into Durnstone hasking for the Military to watch the ruins in case of another houtbreak. It'll stop the wicked Ball at the Hathanaeum, it will!

[_Drawing the window curtains._

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_Having re-entered._] I suppose you want to see the last of me, Jedd.

THE DEAN.

Mardon!

GEORGIANA.

Don't be unkind, Tris. Where shall we stow the dear old chap, Gus, my boy?

THE DEAN.

Where shall we stow the dear old chap! I really don't know.

GEORGIANA.

Let me see. We don't want to pitch you out of your loft if we can help it, Gus.

SIR TRISTRAM.

No, no--we won't do that.

THE DEAN.

Don't consider me in this manner. But there's Sheba's little cot still standing in the old nursery.

SIR TRISTRAM.

Just the thing for me--the old nursery.

GEORGIANA.

The old nursery. Toys to play with if you wake early.

THE DEAN.

[_Looking round._] Is there anyone else before we lock up?

[_BLORE has fastened the window and drawn the curtain._

GEORGIANA.

Put Sir Tristram to bed carefully in the nursery, Blore.

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_Grasping THE DEAN'S hand._] Good-night, old boy. I'm too done for a hand of Piquet to-night.

THE DEAN.

I never play cards.

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_Slapping him on the back._] I'll teach you during my stay at the Deanery.

THE DEAN.

[_Helplessly to himself._] Then he's staying with me!

SIR TRISTRAM.

Good-night, George.

GEORGIANA.

Good-night, partner. Heaven bless the little innocent in his cot.

[_SIR TRISTRAM goes out with BLORE._

GEORGIANA.

[_Calling after him._] Tris! You may take your pipe up with you. We smoke all over the Deanery.

THE DEAN.

[_To himself._] I never smoke! Does _she?_

GEORGIANA.

[_Closes the door, humming a tune merrily._] Tra la, tra la! Now, Mr. Tidd, we'll toddle. Tra la! tra la! [_She stops, looking at THE DEAN, who is muttering to himself._] Gus, I don't like your looks, I shall let the Vet see you in the morning. What's wrong with you?

[_THE DEAN shakes his head mournfully, and sinks on the settee._

GEORGIANA.

Money?

THE DEAN.

There _are_ bills, which, at a more convenient time, it will be my grateful duty to discharge.

GEORGIANA.

And you're short?

THE DEAN.

Short?

GEORGIANA.

Stumped--out of coin--run low. What'll square the bills?

THE DEAN.

Very little would settle the bills--but--but----

GEORGIANA.

I know--the Spire. Why, Gus, you haven't got that thousand.

THE DEAN.

There is a very large number of estimable worthy men who do not possess a thousand pounds. With that number I have the mournful pleasure of enrolling myself.

GEORGIANA.

When's the settling day?

THE DEAN.

Eh?

GEORGIANA.

When will you have to fork out?

THE DEAN.

Unless the restoration is immediately commenced the spire will certainly crumble.

GEORGIANA.

Then it's a match between you and the spire which parts first. Gus, will you let your little sister lend you a hand?

THE DEAN.

My dear Georgiana, impossible!

GEORGIANA.

No, no--not out of my own pocket. Come here. [_She takes his arm and whispers in his ear._] Can you squeeze a pair of ponies?

THE DEAN.

Can I what?

GEORGIANA.

Can you raise fifty pounds?

THE DEAN.

Certainly. More than fifty pounds.

GEORGIANA.

No--no, don't be rash! That's the worst of you beginners. Only fifty by to-morrow morning.

THE DEAN.

Most assuredly.

GEORGIANA.

Very well then--clap it on to Dandy Dick!

THE DEAN.

[_With horror._] What!

GEORGIANA.

He's a certainty--if those two buckets of water haven't put him off it! He's a moral--if he doesn't think of his tail coming down the hill. There's nothing like him at the weight. Keep it dark, Gus--don't breathe a word to any of your Canons or Archdeacons, or they'll rush at it and shorten the price for us. Go in, Gus, my boy--take your poor widowed sister's tip and sleep as peacefully as a blessed baby!

[_She presses him warmly to her and kisses him._

THE DEAN.

[_Extricating himself._] Oh! Mrs. Tidman! Go to your room!

GEORGIANA.

Augustin!

THE DEAN.

In the morning I will endeavor to frame some verbal expression of the horror with which I regard your proposal. For the present, you are my parents' child and I trust your bed is well aired.

GEORGIANA.

Oh, very well, Augustin. I've done all I can for the Spire. _Bon soir,_ old boy!

THE DEAN.

Good-night.

GEORGIANA.

If you're wiser in the morning just send Blore on to the course and he'll put the money on for you.

THE DEAN.

Blore! My poor devoted old servant would be lost on a race-course.

GEORGIANA.

Would he! He was quite at home in Tattersall's Ring when I was at St. Marvells last summer.

THE DEAN.

Blore!

GEORGIANA.

Blore. I recognized the veteran sportsman the moment I came into the Deanery.

THE DEAN.

What was my butler doing at St. Marvells Races?

_BLORE enters with his lantern._

GEORGIANA.

Investing the savings of your cook and housemaid, of course. You don't think your servants are as narrow as you are!

THE DEAN.

Oh!

BLORE.

I beg your pardon, sir, shall I go the rounds, sir?

[_THE DEAN gives Blore a fierce look, but BLORE beams sweetly._

GEORGIANA.

Blore!

BLORE.

Mum?

GEORGIANA.

Breakfast at nine, sharp. And pack a hamper with a cold chicken, some French rolls, and two bottles of Heidsieck--label it "George Tidd," and send it on to the Hill. I'll stand the racket. Goodnight.

[_She goes out. THE DEAN sinks into a chair and clasps his forehead._

BLORE.

A dear, 'igh-sperited lady. [_Leaning over THE DEAN._] Aren't you well, sir?

THE DEAN.

Serpent!

BLORE.

Meanin' _me,_ sir?

THE DEAN

Lock up; I'll speak to you in the morning. Lock up.

[_BLORE goes into the Library, turns out the lamp there, and disappears._

What dreadful wave threatens to engulf the Deanery? What has come to us in a few fatal hours? A horse of sporting tendencies contaminating my stables, his equally vicious owner nestling in the nursery, and my own widowed sister, in all probability, smoking a cigarette at her bedroom window with her feet on the window-ledge! [_Listening._] What's that? [_He peers through the window curtains._] I thought I heard footsteps in the garden. I can see nothing--only the old spire standing out against the threatening sky. [_Leaving the window shudderingly._] The Spire! My principal creditor! My principal creditor, the most conspicuous object in the city!

_BLORE re-enters with his lantern, carrying some bank-notes in his hand._

BLORE.

[_Laying the notes on the table._] I found these, sir, on your dressing-table--they're bank-notes, sir.

THE DEAN.

[_Taking the notes._] Thank you. I placed them there to be sent to the Bank to-morrow. [_Counting the notes._] Ten--ten--twenty--five--five, fifty. Fifty pounds! The very sum Georgiana urged me to--oh! [_To BLORE, waving him away._] Leave me--go to bed--go to bed--go to bed! [_BLORE is going._] Blore!

BLORE.

Sir?

THE DEAN.

What made you tempt me with these at such a moment?

BLORE.

Temp' you, sir! The window was hopen, and I feared they might blow away.

THE DEAN.

[_Catching him by the coat collar._] Man, what were you doing at St. Marvells Races last summer?

BLORE.

[_With a cry, falling on his knees._] Oh, sir! Oh, sir! I knew that 'igh-sperited lady would bring grief and sorrow to the peaceful, 'appy Deanery! Oh, sir, I _'ave_ done a little on my hown account from time to time on the 'ill, halso hon commission for the kitchen!

THE DEAN.

I knew it--I knew it!

BLORE.

Oh, sir, you are a old gentleman--turn a charitable 'art to the Races! It's a wicious institution what spends more ready money in St. Marvells than us good people do in a year.

THE DEAN.

Get up, Blore--get up. Oh, Edward Blore, Edward Blore, what weak creatures we are!

BLORE.

We are, sir--we are--'specially when we've got a tip, sir. Think of the temptation of a tip, sir.

THE DEAN.

I do, Blore--I do.

BLORE.

I confess heverything, sir. Bonny Betsy's bound for to win the 'andicap.

THE DEAN.

No, no--she isn't.

BLORE.

She is, sir.

THE DEAN.

I know better; she can never get down the hill with those legs of hers.

BLORE.

She can, sir--what's to beat her?

THE DEAN.

The horse in my stable--Dandy Dick!

BLORE.

Dandy Dick! That old bit of ma'ogany, sir. They're layin' ten to one against him.

THE DEAN.

[_With hysterical eagerness._] Are they? I'll take it! I'll take it!

BLORE.

Lord love you, sir--fur how much?

THE DEAN.

Fifty! There's the money. [_Impulsively he crams the notes into BLORE'S hand and then recoils in horror._] Oh!

[_Sinks into a chair with a groan._

BLORE.

[_In a whisper._] Lor', who'd 'ave thought the Dean was such a ardent sportsman at 'art? He dursn't give me my notice after this. [_To THE DEAN._] Of course it's understood, sir, that we keep our little weaknesses dark. Houtwardly, sir, we remain respectable, and, I 'ope, respected. [_Putting the notes into his pocket._] I wish you good-night, sir. [_He walks to the door. THE DEAN makes an effort to recall him but fails._] And that old man 'as been my pattern and example for years and years! Oh, Edward Blore, your hidol is shattered! [_Turning to THE DEAN._] Good-night, sir. May your dreams be calm and 'appy, and may you have a good run for your money!

[_BLORE goes out--THE DEAN gradually recovers his self-possession._

THE DEAN.

I--I am upset to-night, Blore. Of course you leave this day month. I--I [_looking round._] Blore! He's gone! If I don't call him back the Spire may be richer to-morrow by five hundred pounds. I won't dwell on it. I'll read--I'll read. [_Snatches a book at haphazard from the bookshelf. There is the sound of falling rain and distant thunder._] Rain, thunder. How it assimilates with the tempest of my mind! I'll read. Bless me! This is very strange. [_Reading._] "The Horse and its Ailments, by John Cox, M. R. C. V. S." It was with the aid of this volume that I used to doctor my old mare at Oxford. A leaf turned down. [_Reading._] "Simple remedies for chills--the Bolus." The helpless beast in my stable is suffering from a chill. Good gracious! If I allow Blore to risk my fifty pounds on Dandy Dick, surely it would be advisable to administer this Bolus to the poor animal without delay. [_Referring to the book hastily._] I have these drugs in my chest. There's not a moment to be lost! [_Going to the bell and ringing._] I shall want help. I'll fetch my medicine chest.

[_He lays the book upon the table and goes into the Library._

_BLORE enters._

BLORE.

[_Looking round._] Where is he? The bell rang. The Dean's puzzling me with his uncommon behavior, that he is.

[_THE DEAN comes from the Library, carrying a large medicine chest. On encountering BLORE he starts and turns away his head, the picture of guilt._

THE DEAN.

Blore, I feel it would be a humane act to administer to the poor ignorant animal in my stable a simple Bolus as a precaution against chill. I rely upon your aid and discretion in ministering to any guest in the Deanery.

BLORE.

[_In a whisper._] I see, sir--you ain't going to lose half a chance for to-morrow, sir--you're a knowin' one, sir, as the sayin' goes!

THE DEAN.

[_Shrinking from BLORE with a groan._] Oh! [_He places the medicine chest on the table and takes up the book. Handing the book to BLORE with his finger on a page._] Fetch these humble but necessary articles from the kitchen--quick. I'll mix the Bolus here. [_BLORE goes out quickly._] It is exactly seven and twenty years since I last approached a horse medically. [_He takes off his coat and lays it on a chair, then rolls his shirt-sleeves up above his elbows and puts on his glasses._] I trust that this Bolus will not give the animal an unfair advantage over his competitors. I don't desire that! I don't desire that! [_BLORE re-enters carrying a tray, on which are a small flour-barrel and rolling-pin, a white china basin, a carafe of water, a napkin, and the book. THE DEAN recoils, then guiltily takes the tray from BLORE and puts it on the table._] Thank you.

BLORE.

[_Holding on to the window curtain and watching THE DEAN._] His eyes is awful; I don't seem to know the 'appy Deanery when I see such proceedings a'goin' on at the dead of night.

[_There is a heavy roll of thunder--THE DEAN mixes a pudding and stirs it with the rolling-pin._

THE DEAN.

The old half-forgotten time returns to me. I am once again a promising youth at college.

BLORE.

[_To himself._] One would think by his looks that he was goin' to poison his family instead of--Poison! Poison! Oh, if hanything serious 'appened to the hanimal in our stable there would be nothing in the way of Bonny-Betsy, the deservin' 'orse I've trusted with my 'ard-earned savings!

THE DEAN.

I am walking once again in the old streets at Oxford, avoiding the shops where I owe my youthful bills. Bills!

[_He pounds away vigorously with the rolling-pin._

BLORE.

[_To himself._] Where's the stuff I got a month ago to destroy the hold black retriever that fell hill?

THE DEAN.

Bills!

BLORE.

The dog died--the poison's in my pantry--it couldn't have got used for cooking purposes.

THE DEAN.

I see the broad meadows and the tall Spire of the college--the Spire! Oh, my whole life seems made up of Bills and Spires!

BLORE.

[_To himself._] I'll do it! I'll do it!

[_Unseen by The Dean he quickly and quietly steals out by the door._

THE DEAN.

Where are the drugs--the drugs? [_Opening the medicine chest and bending down over the bottles he pours some drops from a bottle into the basin._] [_Counting._] Three--four--five--six. [_He replaces the bottle and takes another._] How fortunate some animals are! [_Counting._] One--two--three, four. It's done!

[_Taking up the medicine chest he goes with it into the Library._

_As he disappears BLORE re-enters stealthily fingering a small paper packet._

BLORE.

[_In a whisper._] Strychnine! [_There is a heavy roll of thunder--BLORE darts to the table, empties the contents of the packet into the basin, and stirs vigorously with the rolling-pin._] I've cooked Dandy Dick! I've cooked Dandy Dick! [_He moves from the table in horror._] Oh! I'm only a hamatoor sportsman and I can't afford a uncertainty. [_As THE DEAN returns, BLORE starts up guiltily._] Can I help you any more, Sir?

THE DEAN.

No, remove these dreadful things, and don't let me see you again to-night!

[_Sits with the basin on his knees, and proceeds to roll the paste._

BLORE.

[_Removing the tray._] It's only an 'orse--it's only an 'orse! But after to-morrow I'll retire from the Turf, if only to reclaim 'im.

[_He goes out._

THE DEAN.

[_Putting on his coat._] I don't contemplate my humane task with resignation. The stable is small, and if the animal is restive we shall be cramped for room. [_The rain is heard._] I shall get a chill too. [_Seeing SIR TRISTRAM'S coat and cap lying upon the settee._] I am sure Mardon will lend me this gladly. [_Putting on the coat, which completely envelops him._] The animal may recognize the garment, and receive me with kindly feeling. [_Putting on the sealskin cap, which almost conceals his face._] Ugh! why do I feel this dreadful sinking at the heart? [_Taking the basin and turning out the lamp._] Oh! if all followers of the veterinary science are as truly wretched as I am, what a noble band they must be!

[_The thunder rolls as he goes through the window curtains. SIR TRISTRAM then enters quietly, smoking, and carrying a lighted candle._

SIR TRISTRAM.

All right; fire still burning. [_Blowing out the candle._] I shall doze here till daybreak. What a night! I never thought there was so much thunder in these small country places.

[_GEORGIANA, looking pale and agitated, and wearing a dressing-gown, enters quickly, carrying an umbrella and a lighted candle._

GEORGIANA.

Which is the nearer way to the stable? I must satisfy myself--I must--I must! [_Going to the door._]

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_Rising suddenly._] Hullo!

GEORGIANA.

[_Shrieks with fright._] Ah!

SIR TRISTRAM.

Hush!

GEORGIANA.

[_Holding out her umbrella._] Stand where you are or I'll fire! [_Recognizing SIR TRISTRAM._] Tris!

SIR TRISTRAM.

Why, George!

GEORGIANA.

Oh, Tris, I've been dreaming! [_Falling helplessly against Sir Tristram, who deposits her in a chair._] Oh! oh! oh! Don't look at me! I'm overtrained. I shall be on my legs again in a minute.

[_She opens her umbrella and hides herself behind it, sobbing violently._

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_Standing over the umbrella in great concern._] My goodness! George, whatever shall I do? Shall I trot you up and down outside?

GEORGIANA.

Be quiet! [_Sobbing._] What are you fooling about here for? Why can't you lie quietly in your cot?

SIR TRISTRAM.

Confound that cot! Why, it wouldn't hold my photograph. Where are you going?

GEORGIANA.

Into the stable to sit with Dandy. The thunder's awful in my room; when it gets tired it seems to sit down on my particular bit of roof. I did doze once, and then I had a frightful dream. I dreamt that Dandy had sold himself to a circus, and that they were hooting him because he had lost his tail. There's an omen!

SIR TRISTRAM.

Don't, don't--be a man, George, be a man!

GEORGIANA.

[_Shutting her umbrella._] I know I'm dreadfully effeminate. There--Tidd's himself again!

SIR TRISTRAM.

Bravo!

GEORGIANA.

Ah, Tris--don't think me soft, old man. I'm a lonely, unlucky woman, and the tail end of this horse is all that's left me in the world to love and to cling to!

SIR TRISTRAM.

No, by Jove! I'm not such a mean cur as that! Swop halves and take his head, George, my boy.

GEORGIANA.

Not I! I'm like a doating mother to my share of Dandy, and it's all the dearer because it's an invalid. I'm off.

SIR TRISTRAM.

Come along! [_Turning towards the window, she following him, he suddenly stops and looks at her, and seizes her hand._] George, I never guessed that you were so tender-hearted.

GEORGIANA.

Well, I'm not.

SIR TRISTRAM.

And you've robbed me to-night of an old friend--a pal.

GEORGIANA.

I--what d'ye mean?

SIR TRISTRAM.

I mean that I seem to have dropped the acquaintance of George Tidd, Esquire, forever.

GEORGIANA.

Tris--no.

SIR TRISTRAM.

I have--but I've got an introduction to his twin-sister, Georgiana!

GEORGIANA.

[_Snatching her hand away angrily._] Stay where you are; I'll nurse my half alone. [_She goes towards the window, then starts back._] Hush!

SIR TRISTRAM.

What's the matter?

GEORGIANA.

Didn't you hear something?

SIR TRISTRAM.

Where?

GEORGIANA.

[_Pointing to the window._] There.

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_Peeping through the curtains._] You're right. Some people moving about the garden.

GEORGIANA.

Tris! The horse!

SIR TRISTRAM.

They're not near the stables. They're coming in here. Hush! We'll clear out and watch!

[_SIR TRISTRAM takes the candlestick and they go out leaving the room in darkness. The curtains at the window are pushed aside, and SALOME and SHEBA enter; both in their fancy dresses._

SALOME.

[_In a rage, lighting the candles on the mantelpiece._] Oh! oh! oh!

SHEBA.

Oh! oh! No ball after all!

SALOME.

If we only had a brother to avenge us!

SHEBA.

I shall try and borrow a brother to-morrow!

SALOME.

Cold, wretched, splashed, in debt--for nothing!

SHEBA.

To think that we've had all the inconvenience of being wicked and rebellious and have only half done it!

SALOME.

This comes of stooping to the Military!

SHEBA.

It serves us right--we've been trained for clergymen's wives. I hate Nugent Darbey. I hope he may grow bald early!

SALOME.

Gerald Tarver's nose is inclined to pink--may it deepen and deepen till it frightens cows!

[_Voices are heard from the curtained window recess._

DARBEY.

[_Outside._] Miss Jedd--Sheba!

TARVER.

[_Outside._] Pray hear two wretched men! Miss Jedd!

SALOME.

[_In a whisper._] There they are.

SHEBA.

Shall we grant them a dignified interview?

SALOME.

Yes. Curl your lip, Sheba.

SHEBA.

You curl your lip better than I--I'll dilate my nostrils.

[_SALOME draws aside the curtain. TARVER and DARBEY enter. They are both very badly and shabbily dressed as Cavaliers._

TARVER.

[_A most miserable object, carrying a carriage umbrella._] Oh, don't reproach us, Miss Jedd. It isn't our fault that the Military were summoned to St. Marvells.

DARBEY.

You don't blame officers and gentlemen for responding to the sacred call of duty?

SHEBA.

We blame officers for subjecting two motherless girls to the shock of alighting at the Durnstone Athenaeum to find a notice on the front door: "Ball knocked on the head--Vivat Regina."

SALOME.

We blame gentlemen for inflicting upon us the unspeakable agony of being jeered at by boys.

TARVER.

I took the address of the boy who suggested that we should call again on the fifth of November. It is on the back of your admission card.

DARBEY.

Everything will be done. We shall both wait on the boy's mother for an explanation.

TARVER.

Oh, smile on us once again, Miss Jedd--a forced, hollow smile, if you will--only smile. Salome!

_GEORGIANA enters._

GEORGIANA.

Salome! Sheba!

SALOME _and_ SHEBA.

Aunt!

GEORGIANA.

You bad girls!

SALOME.

[_Weeping._] No, Aunt, no!

SHEBA.

Not bad. Aunt--trustful and confiding.

GEORGIANA.

[_Advancing to TARVER._] How dare you encourage these two simple children to enjoy themselves! How dare you take them out--without their Aunt! Do you think _I_ can't keep a thing quiet?

SHEBA.

They didn't even ask Papa's permission!

SALOME.

Poor Papa!

SHEBA.

Poor, dear Papa!

GEORGIANA.

[_Shaking TARVER._] I'm speaking to you--Field-Marshal.

TARVER.

Madam, you are addressing an invalid.

DARBEY.

We shall be happy to receive your representative in the morning. At present we are on duty.

TARVER.

On heavy duty.

DARBEY.

Guarding the ruins of the "Swan" Inn. You mustn't distract our attention.

GEORGIANA.

Guarding the ruins of the "Swan," are you? [_Calling._] Tris! Sir Tristram! [_SIR TRISTRAM appears._] Tris, I'm a feeble woman, but I hope I've a keen sense of right and wrong. Run these outsiders into the road, and let them guard their own ruins.

[_SALOME and SHEBA shriek, and throw themselves at the feet of TARVER and DARBEY. clinging to their legs._

SALOME.

No, no. Spare him!

SHEBA.

You shall not harm a hair of their heads.

[_SIR TRISTRAM twists TARVER'S wig round so that it covers his face. The gate bell is heard ringing violently._

GEORGIANA, SALOME _and_ SHEBA.

What's that?

SALOME.

It will wake Papa!

SHEBA.

Stop the bell!

[_GEORGIANA runs to the door and opens it._

SALOME.

[_To TARVER and DARBEY._] Fly!

[_TARVER and DARBEY disappear through the curtains at the window._

SHEBA.

[_Falling into SALOME'S arms._] We have saved them!

GEORGIANA.

Oh, Tris, your man from the stable!

SIR TRISTRAM.

Hatcham!

GEORGIANA.

[_Calling._] Hatcham!

[_HATCHAM, carrying the basin with the bolus, runs in breathlessly--followed by BLORE._

HATCHAM.

Oh, Sir Tristram!

GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.

What is it?

HATCHAM.

The villain that set fire to the "Swan," sir--in the hact of administering a dose to the 'orse!

GEORGIANA.

Nobbling our Dandy?

SIR TRISTRAM.

Where is the scoundrel?

HATCHAM.

Topping the constable's collared him, Sir--he's taken him in a cart to the lock-up!

GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.

Oh!

BLORE.

[_In agony._] They've got the Dean!

END OF THE SECOND ACT.

THE THIRD ACT.

The first scene is the interior of a country Police Station, a quaint old room with plaster walls, oaken beams, and a gothic mullioned window looking on to the street. A massive door, with a small sliding wicket and an iron grating, opens to a prisoner's cell. The room is partly furnished as a kitchen, partly as a police station, a copy of the Police Regulations and other official documents and implements hanging on the wall. It is the morning after the events of the previous act.

_HANNAH, a buxom, fresh-looking young woman, in a print gown, has been engaged in cooking while singing gayly._

HANNAH.

[_Opening a door and calling with a slight dialect._] Noah darling!

NOAH.

[_From another room--in a rough, country voice._] Yaas!

HANNAH.

You'll have your dinner before you drive your prisoner over to Durnstone, won't ye, darling?

NOAH.

Yaas!

HANNAH.

[_Closing the door._] Yaas! Noah's in a nice temper to-day over summat. Ah well, I suppose all public characters is liable to irritation. [_There is a knock at the outer door. HANNAH opening it, sees BLORE with a troubled look on his face._] Well I never! Mr. Blore from the Deanery! Come in! You might knock me down with a----!

BLORE.

[_Entering and shaking hands mournfully._] How do you do, Mrs. Topping?

HANNAH.

And how is the dear Dean, bless him; the sweetest soul in the world?

BLORE.

[_To himself._] Good gracious! She doesn't know of hour misfortune. [_To HANNAH._] I--I 'aven't seen him this morning!

HANNAH.

Well, this is real kind of you, calling on an old friend, Edward. When I think that I were cook at the Deanery seven years, and that since I left you, to get wedded, not a soul of you has been nigh me, it do seem hard.

BLORE.

Well, you see, 'Annah, the kitchen took humbrage at your marryin' a policeman at Durnstone. It was regarded as a messyliance.

HANNAH.

Well, now Mr. Topping's got the appointment of Head Constable at St. Marvells, what's that regarded as?

BLORE.

A rise on the scales, 'Annah, a decided rise--but still you've honly been a week in St. Marvells and you've got to fight your way hup.

HANNAH.

I think I'm as hup as ever I'm like to be.

BLORE.

'Owever, Jane and Sarah and Willis the stable boy 'ave hunbent so far as to hask me to leave their cards, knowin' I was a callin'.

[_He produces from an old leather pocket-book three very dirty pieces of paste-board, which he gives to HANNAH._

HANNAH.

[_Taking them in her apron with pride._] Thank 'em kindly. When's their evening?

BLORE.

We receive on Toosdays, at the side gate. And 'ow are you, my dear?

[_Kissing her cheek._

HANNAH.

Don't, Edward Blore!

BLORE.

Don't! When you was Miss Hevans there wasn't these social barriers, 'Annah!

HANNAH.

Shut up! Noah's jealous of the very apron-strings what go round my waist. I'm not so free and 'andy with my kisses now, I can tell you.

BLORE.

Then "what is friendship but a name!" But Mr. Topping isn't indoors now, surely!

HANNAH.

[_Nodding her head._] Um--um!

BLORE.

Why, he took a man up last night!

HANNAH.

What of it?

BLORE.

Why, I thought that when hany harrest was made in St. Marvells, the prisoner was lodged here honly for the night and that the 'ead Constable 'ad to drive 'im over to Durnstone Police Station the first thing in the morning.

HANNAH.

That's the rule, but Noah's behindhand to-day, and ain't going into Durnstone till after dinner.

BLORE.

Then the prisoner is now hon the premises!

HANNAH.

Yes, he's in our cell.

BLORE.

Ah! And where is the hapartment in question?

HANNAH.

The cell? That's it!

BLORE.

[_Looking round in horror._] Oh!

HANNAH.

The "Strong-box" they call it in St. Marvells.

BLORE.

Oh, my goodness, honly fancy! [_Whimpering to himself._] And 'im accustomed to his shavin' water at h'eight and my kindly hand to button his gaiters. Oh, here's a warnin'!

HANNAH.

Whatever is the matter with you, Edward?

BLORE.

'Annah, 'Annah, my dear, it's this very prisoner what I 'ave called on you respectin'.

HANNAH.

Oh, then the honor ain't a compliment to me, after all, Mr. Blore?

BLORE.

I'm killing two birds with one stone, my dear.

HANNAH.

[_Throwing the cards into BLORE'S hat._] You can take them back to the Deanery with Mrs. Topping's comps.

BLORE.

[_Shaking the cards out of his hat and replacing them in his pocket-book._] I will leave them hon you again to-morrow, 'Annah. But, 'Annah deary, do you know that this hunfortunate man was took in our stables last night.

HANNAH.

No, I never ask Noah nothing about Queen's business. He don't want _two_ women over him!

BLORE.

Then you 'aven't seen the miserable culprit?

HANNAH.

Lor' no. I was in bed hours when Noah brought 'im 'ome. I take no interest in it all. They tell us it's only a wretched poacher or a petty larcery we'll get in St. Marvells. My poor Noah ain't never likely to have the chance of a horrid murder in a place what returns a Conservative. My joint's burning.

[_Kneeling to look into the oven._

BLORE.

But, 'Annah, suppose this case you've got 'old of now is a case what'll shake old England to its basis! Suppose it means columns in the paper with Topping's name a-figurin'! Suppose as family readin', it 'old its own with divorce cases!

HANNAH.

Hullo! You know something about this arrest, you do!

BLORE.

No, no, I don't! I merely said suppose. I merely wish to encourage you, 'Annah; to implant an 'ope that crime may brighten your wedded life.

HANNAH.

[_Sitting at the table and referring to an official book._] The man was found trespassing in the Deanery Stables with intent--refuses to give his name or any account of 'isself.

BLORE.

[_To himself._] If I could honly find hout whether Dandy Dick had any of the medicine it would so guide me at the Races. What am I to do? It doesn't appear that the 'orse in the stables--took it, does it?

HANNAH.

[_Looking up sharply._] Took what?

BLORE.

Er--took fright. You're sure there's no confession of any sort, 'Annah dear?

[_As he is bending over HANNAH, NOAH TOPPING appears. NOAH is a dense-looking ugly countryman, with red hair, a bristling heard, and a vindictive leer. He is dressed in ill-fitting clothes, as a rural Police Constable._

NOAH.

[_Fiercely._] 'Annah!

HANNAH.

[_Starting and replacing the book._] Oh don't! This is Mr. Blore from the Deanery come to see us--an old friend o' mine!

[_BLORE advances to NOAH with a nervous smile, extending his hand._

NOAH.

[_Taking BLORE'S hand and holding it firmly._] A friend of hern is a friend o' mian!

BLORE.

I 'ope so, Mr. Topping. I thank you.

NOAH.

She's gettin' me a lot o' nice noo friends this week, since we coom to St. Marvells.

BLORE.

Of course, dear 'Annah was a lovin' favorite with heverybody.

NOAH.

Ay. Well then, as her friends be mian, I'm takin' the liberty, one by one, of gradually droppin' on 'em all.

BLORE.

[_Getting his hand away._] Dear me!

NOAH.

And if I catch any old fly a buzzin' round my lady I'll venture to break his 'ead in wi' my staff!

HANNAH.

Oh, Noah!

BLORE.

[_Preparing to depart._] I--I merely called to know if hanything had been found hout about the ruffian took in our stables last night!

NOAH.

Is that your business?

BLORE.

It--it's my master's business.

NOAH.

He's the De-an, ain't he?

HANNAH.

Yes, Noah, of course.

NOAH.

[_Fiercely._] Shut oop, darlin'. Very well, then--give Mr. Topping's respects to the Dean, and say I'll run up to the Deanery and see him after I've took my man over to Durnstone.

BLORE.

Thank you--I 'ope the Dean will be at 'ome. Good-day, 'Annah! Good-day, Mr. Topping!

[_Offering his hand, into which NOAH significantly places his truncheon. BLORE goes out quickly._

HANNAH.

[_Whimpering._] Oh, Noah, Noah, I don't believe as we shall ever get a large circle of friends round us!

NOAH.

Now then! [_Selecting a pair of handcuffs and examining them critically._] Them'll do. [_Slipping them into his pocket, and turning upon HANNAH suddenly._] 'Annah!

HANNAH.

Yes, Noahry----

NOAH.

Brighten oop, my darlin', the little time you 'ave me at 'ome with you.

HANNAH.

Yes, Noahry.

[_She bustles about and begins to lay the cloth._

NOAH.

I'm just a' goin' round to the stable to put old Nick in the cart.

HANNAH.

Oh, dont'ee trust to Nick, Noah dear--he's such a vicious brute. Kitty's safer in the cart.

NOAH.

Shut oop, darlin'. Nick can take me on to the edge o' the hill in half the time.

HANNAH.

The hill!

NOAH.

Ah, what d'ye think I've put off taking my man to Durnstone to now for? Why, I'm a goin' to get a glimpse of the racin', on my way over. [_Opening the wicket in the cell door and looking in._] There he is! Sulky! [_To HANNAH._] Hopen the hoven door, 'Annah, and let the smell of the cookin' get into him.

HANNAH.

Oh, no, Noah--it's torture!

NOAH.

Do as I tell'ee. [_She opens the oven door._] Torture! Of course it's torture! That's my rule! Whenever I get a 'old of a darned obstinate creature wot won't reveal his hindentity I hopens the hoven door.

[_He goes out into the street, and as he departs, the woful face of THE DEAN appears at the wicket, his head being still enveloped in the fur cap._

HANNAH.

[_Shutting the oven door._] Not me! Torturing prisoners might a' done for them Middling Ages what Noah's always clattering about, but not for my time o' life. I'll shut that wicket. [_Crossing close to the wicket, her face almost comes against THE DEAN'S. She gives a cry._] The Dean!

THE DEAN.

Oh!

[_He disappears._

HANNAH.

Oh, no! Not my old master! Never the master! [_Tottering to the wicket and looking in._] Master! Look at me! It's 'Annah, your poor faithful servant, 'Annah!

[_The face of THE DEAN re-appears._

THE DEAN.

[_In a deep sad voice._] Hannah Evans.

HANNAH.

It's 'Annah Topping, Knee Evans, wife o' the Constable what's goin' to take you to cruel Durnstone. [_Sinking weeping upon the ground at the door._] Oh, Mr. Dean, sir, what have you been up to? What have you been up to? What have you been up to?

THE DEAN.

Woman, I am the victim of a misfortune only partially merited.

HANNAH.

[_On her knees, clasping her hands._] Tell me what you've done, Master dear; give it a name, for the love of goodness

THE DEAN.

My poor Hannah, I fear I have placed myself in an equivocal position.

HANNAH.

[_With a shriek of despair._] Ah!

THE DEAN.

Be quiet, woman!

HANNAH.

Is it a change o' cooking that's brought you to such ways? I cooked for you for seven 'appy years!

THE DEAN.

[_Sniffing._] Alas! you seem to have lost none of your culinary skill.

HANNAH.

Master, are you hungry?

THE DEAN.

I am sorely tried by your domestic preparations.

HANNAH.

[_With clenched hands and a determined look._] Oh! [_Quickly locking and bolting the street door._] Noah can't put that brute of a horse to under ten minutes. The dupplikit key o' the Strong Box! [_Producing a large key, with which she unlocks the cell door._] Master, you'll give me your patrol not to cut, won't you?

THE DEAN.

Under any other circumstances, Hannah, I should resent that insinuation.

HANNAH.

Don't resent nothing! Shove! Shove your hardest, Dean dear!

[_Pulling the door which opens sufficiently to let out THE DEAN._

THE DEAN.

[_As he enters the room._] Good day, Hannah; you have bettered yourself, I hope?

HANNAH.

[_Hysterically flinging herself upon THE DEAN._] Oh, Master, Master!

THE DEAN.

[_Putting her from him sternly._] Hannah! Mrs. Topping!

HANNAH.

Oh, I know, I know, but crime levels all, dear sir!

THE DEAN.

You appear to misapprehend the precise degree of criminality which attaches to me, Mrs. Topping. In the eyes of that majestic, but imperfect instrument, the law, I am an innocent if not an injured man.

HANNAH.

Ah, stick to that, sir! Stick to it, if you think it's likely to serve your wicked ends!

[_Placing bread with other things on the table._

THE DEAN.

My good woman, a single word from me to those at the Deanery, would instantly restore me to home, family, and accustomed diet.

HANNAH.

Ah, they all tell that tale what comes here. Why don't you send word, Dean dear?

THE DEAN.

Because it would involve revelations of my temporary moral aberration!

HANNAH.

[_Putting her apron to her eyes with a howl._] Owh!

THE DEAN.

Because I should return to the Deanery with my dignity--that priceless possession of man's middle age!--with my dignity seriously impaired!

HANNAH.

Oh, don't, sir, don't!

THE DEAN.

How could I face my simple children who have hitherto, not unreasonably, regarded me as faultless? How could I again walk erect in the streets of St. Marvells with my name blazoned on the Records of a Police Station of the very humblest description?

[_Sinking into a chair and snatching up a piece of breads which he begins munching._

HANNAH.

[_Wiping her eyes._] Oh, sir, it's a treat to hear you, compared with the hordinary criminal class. But, master, dear, though my Noah don't recognize you--through his being a stranger to St. Marvells--how'll you fare when you get to Durnstone?

THE DEAN.

I have one great buoyant hope--that a word in the ear of the Durnstone Superintendent will send me forth an unquestioned man. You and he will be the sole keepers of my precious secret. May its possession be a lasting comfort to you both.

HANNAH.

Master, is what you've told me your only chance of getting off unknown?

THE DEAN.

It is the sole remaining chance of averting a calamity of almost national importance.

HANNAH.

Then you're as done as that joint in my oven!

THE DEAN.

Woman!

HANNAH.

The Superintendent at Durnstone--John Ruggles--also the two Inspectors, Whitaker and Parker----

THE DEAN.

Well!

HANNAH.

Them and their wives and families are chapel folk!

THE DEAN.

[_Aghast._] No!

HANNAH.

Yes. [_THE DEAN totters across to a chair, into which he sinks with his head upon the table._] Master! Listen!

THE DEAN.

It's all over! It's all over!

HANNAH.

No, no--Listen! I was well fed and kept seven years at the Deanery--I've been wed to Noah Topping eight weeks--that's six years and ten months' lovin' duty doo to you and yours before I owe nothing to my darling Noah. Master dear, you shan't be took to Durnstone!

THE DEAN.

Silence! Hannah Topping, formerly Evans, it is my duty to inform you that your reasoning does more credit to your heart than to your head.

HANNAH.

I can't help that. The Devil's always in a woman's heart because it's the warmest place to get to! [_Taking a small key from the table drawer._] Here, take that! [_Pushing the key into the pocket of his coat._] When you once get free from my darling Noah that key unlocks your handcuffs!

THE DEAN.

Handcuffs!

HANNAH.

How are you to get free, that's the question now, isn't it? I'll tell you. My Noah drives you over to Durnstone with old Nick in the cart.

THE DEAN.

Old Nick!

HANNAH.

That's the horse. Now Nick was formerly in the Durnstone Fire Brigade, and when he 'ears the familiar signal of a double whistle you can't hold him in. There's the whistle. [_Putting it into THE DEAN'S pocket._] Directly you turn into Pear Tree Lane, blow once and you'll see Noah with his nose in the air, pullin' fit to wrench his 'ands off. Jump out--roll clear of the wheel--keep cool and 'opeful and blow again. Before you can get the mud out of your eyes Noah and the horse and cart will be well into Durnstone, and may Providence restore a young 'usband safe to his doatin' wife!

THE DEAN.

Hannah! How dare you! [_Recoiling horror-stricken._

HANNAH.

[_Crying._] Oh--ooh--ooh!

THE DEAN.

Is this the fruit of your seven years' constant cookery at the Deanery?

HANNAH.

Oh dear! I wouldn't have done it, only this is your first offence!

THE DEAN.

My first offence, oh!

HANNAH.

You're not too old; I want to give you another start in life!

THE DEAN.

Another start! Woman, do you think I've no conscience? Do you think I don't realize the enormity of the--of the difficulties in alighting from a vehicle in rapid motion?

HANNAH.

[_Opening the oven and taking out a small joint in a baking tin, which she places on the table._] It's 'unger what makes you feel conscientious!

THE DEAN.

[_Waving her away._] I have done with you!

HANNAH.

With me, sir--but not with the joint! You'll feel wickeder when you've had a little nourishment. [_He looks hungrily at the dish._] That's right, Dean, dear--taste my darling Noah's favorite dish.

THE DEAN.

[_Advancing towards the table._] Oh, Hannah Topping--Hannah Topping! [_Clutching the carving-knife despairingly._] I'll have no more women cooks at the Deanery! This reads me a lesson.

[_Sitting and carving with desperation._

HANNAH.

Don't stint yourself, sir. You can't blow that whistle on an empty frame. [_THE DEAN begins to eat._] Don't my cooking carry you back, sir? Oh, say it do!

THE DEAN.

Ah, if every mouthful would carry me back one little hour I would finish this joint!

[_NOAH TOPPING, unperceived by HANNAH and THE DEAN, climbs in by the window, his eyes bolting with rage--he glares round the room, taking in everything at a glance._

NOAH.

[_Under his breath._] My man o' mystery--a waited on by my nooly made wife--a heating o' my favorite meal.

[_Touching HANNAH on the arm, she turns and faces him, speechless with fright._

THE DEAN.

[_Still eating._] If my mind were calmer this would be an all-sufficient repast. [_HANNAH tries to speak, then clasps her hands and sinks on her knees to NOAH._] Hannah, a little plain cold water in a simple tumbler, please.

NOAH.

[_Grimly--folding his arms._] 'Annah, hintrodooce me. [_HANNAH gives a cry and clings to NOAH'S legs._

THE DEAN.

[_Calmly to NOAH._] Am I to gather, constable, from your respective attitudes that you object to these little kindnesses extended to me by your worthy wife?

NOAH.

I'm wishin' to know the name o' my worthy wife's friend. A friend o' hern is a friend o' mian.

HANNAH.

Noahry! Noahry!

NOAH.

She's gettin' me a lot o' nice noo friends since we coom to St. Marvells.

HANNAH.

Noahry! I made this gentleman's acquaintance through the wicket, in a casual way.

NOAH.

Ay. Cooks and railins--cooks and railins! I might a guessed my wedded life 'ud a coom to this.

HANNAH.

He spoke to me just as a strange gentleman ought to speak to a lady! Didn't you, sir--didn't you?

THE DEAN.

Hannah, do not let us even under these circumstances prevaricate; such is not quite the case!

[_NOAH advances savagely to THE DEAN. There is a knocking at the door.--NOAH restrains himself and faces THE DEAN._

NOAH.

Noa, this is neither the toime nor pla-ace, wi' people at the door and dinner on t' table, to spill a strange man's blood.

THE DEAN.

I trust that your self-respect as an officer of the law will avert anything so unseemly.

NOAH.

Ay. That's it! You've touched me on my point o' pride. There ain't another police-station in all Durnstone conducted more strict and rigid nor what mian is, and it shall so continue. You and me is a goin' to set out for Durnstone, and when the charges now standin' agen you is entered, it's I, Noah Topping, what'll hadd another!

[_There is another knock at the door._

HANNAH.

Noah!

NOAH.

The charge of allynating the affections o' my wife, 'Annah!

THE DEAN.

[_Horrified._] No, no!

NOAH.

Ay, and worse--the embezzlin' o' my mid-day meal prepared by her 'ands. [_Points into the cell._] Go in; you 'ave five minutes more in the 'ome you 'ave ruined and laid waste.

THE DEAN.

[_Going to the door and turning to NOAH._] You will at least receive my earnest assurance that this worthy woman is extremely innocent?

NOAH.

Hinnocent? [_Points to the joint on the table._] Look theer! [_THE DEAN, much overcome, disappears through the cell door, which NOAH closes and locks. The knock at the door is repeated. To HANNAH, pointing to the outer door._] Hunlock that door!

HANNAH.

[_Weeping._] Oh, Noahry, you'll never be popular in St. Marvells.

NOAH.

Hunlock that door!

[_HANNAH unlocks the door, and admits GEORGIANA and SIR TRISTRAM, both dressed for the race-course._

GEORGIANA.

Dear me! Is this the Police-Station?

HANNAH.

Yes, lady. Take a chair, lady, near the fire. [_To SIR TRISTRAM._] Sit down, sir.

GEORGIANA.

This is my first visit to a police-station, my good woman; I hope it will be the last.

HANNAH.

Oh, don't say that, ma'am. We're honly hauxilliary 'ere, ma'am--the Bench sets at Durnstone.

GEORGIANA.

I must say you try to make everybody feel at home.

[_HANNAH curtseys._

SIR TRISTRAM.

It's beautifully Arcadian.

GEORGIANA.

[_To HANNAH._] Perhaps this is only a police-station for the young?

HANNAH.

No, ma'am, we take ladies and gentlemen like yourselves.

NOAH.

[_Who has not been noticed, surveying GEORGIANA and SIR TRISTRAM, gloomily._] 'Annah, hintrodooce me.

GEORGIANA.

[_Facing NOAH._] Good gracious! What's that! Oh, good-morning.

NOAH.

'Annah's a gettin' me a lot o' nice noo friends this week since we coom to St. Marvells.

HANNAH.

Noah, Noah--the lady and gentlemen is strange.

NOAH.

Ho!

GEORGIANA.

Are you the man in charge here?

NOAH.

Ay; are you seeing me on business or pleasure?

SIR TRISTRAM.

Do you imagine people come here to see you?

NOAH.

Noa--they generally coom to see my wife. 'Owever, if it's business [_pointing to the other side of the room_] that's the hofficial side--this is domestic. You'll hall kindly move over.

SIR TRISTRAM _and_ GEORGIANA.

Oh, certainly.

[_Changing their seats._

SIR TRISTRAM.

Now, look here, my man. This lady is Mrs. Tidman. Mrs. Tidman is the sister of Dr. Jedd, the Dean of St. Marvells.

HANNAH.

[_With a gasp._] Oh!

GEORGIANA.

There's something wrong with your wife.

NOAH.

Ay. She's profligate--proceedins are pendin'!

GEORGIANA.

[_To SIR TRISTRAM._] Strange police station! My flesh creeps.

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_To NOAH._] Well, my good man, to come to the point. My poor friend and this lady's brother, Dr. Jedd, the Dean, you know--has mysteriously and unaccountably disappeared.

GEORGIANA.

Vanished.

SIR TRISTRAM.

Gone.

NOAH.

Absconded.

GEORGIANA.

Absconded! How dare you.

NOAH.

Respectable man, was 'e?

GEORGIANA.

What do you mean?

SIR TRISTRAM.

This lady is his sister!

NOAH.

Now, look 'ere--it's no good a gettin' 'asty and irritable with the law. I'll coom over to yer, officially.

[_Putting the baking tin under his arm he crosses over to SIR TRISTRAM and GEORGIANA._

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_Putting his handkerchief to his face._] Don't bring that horrible odor of cooking over here.

GEORGIANA.

Take it away! What is it?

NOAH.

It's evidence against my profligate wife.

[_SIR TRISTRAM and GEORGIANA exchange looks of impatience._

GEORGIANA.

Do you realize that my poor brother the Dean is missing?

NOAH.

Ay. Touching this missin' De-an.

GEORGIANA.

I left him last night to retire to rest.

SIR TRISTRAM.

This morning he is not to be found!

NOAH.

Ay. 'As it struck you to look in 'is bed?

GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.

Of course!

GEORGIANA.

Everybody did that!

NOAH.

One 'ud a done. It's only confusin'--hall doin' it! Money matters right or wrong?

[_GEORGIANA puts her handkerchief to her eyes._

SIR TRISTRAM.

Do put your questions more feelingly! This is his sister--I am his friend!

NOAH.

You will push yourselves forrard. Had he anything on his mind?

GEORGIANA.

Yes!

NOAH.

Then I've got a the'ry.

GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.

What is it?

NOAH.

A the'ry that will put you all out o' suspense!

GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.

Yes, yes!

NOAH.