Chapter III: Part 3

_On the other side of the room, facing the bedroom door, there is a second settee, and behind the settee is an oblong table littered with books and magazines. At a little distance from this table stands an arm-chair, and against the wall at the back, on the left of the big doors, is a chair of a lighter sort. Also against the back wall, but on the left of the door opening from the vestibule, is a table with a telephone-instrument upon it, and running along the left-hand wall is a dwarf bookcase, unglazed, packed with books which look as if they would be none the worse for being dusted and put in order._

_In the vestibule, against the wall on the right, there is a small table on which are Philip's hats, caps, and gloves; and an overcoat and a man's cape are hanging on some pegs._

_It is late on a November afternoon. Curtains are drawn across the dining-room windows, and the room is lighted rather dimly by an electric lamp standing upon a sideboard. A warm glow proceeds from the nearer right-hand corner as from a fire. The study is lighted by a couple of standard lamps and a library-lamp on the writing-table, and the vestibule by a lamp suspended from the ceiling._

_The big doors are open._

[PHILIP, _a pipe in his mouth and wearing an old velvet
jacket, is lying upon the settee on the right, reading a
book by the light of the lamp on the writing-table. In
the dining-room,_ JOHN _and a waiter--the latter in his
shirt-sleeves--are at the round table, unfolding a white
table-cloth._

JOHN.

[_A cheery little man in seedy clothes--to the waiter, softly._] Careful! Don't crease it.

PHILIP.

[_Raising his eyes from his book._] What's the time, John?

JOHN.

Quarter-to-six, sir.

PHILIP.

Have my things come from the tailor's yet?

JOHN.

[_Laying the cloth with the aid of the waiter._] Yes, sir; while you were dozing. [_Ecstatically._] They're lovely, sir. [_A bell rings in the vestibule._] Expect that's the cook, sir. [_He bustles into the vestibule from the dining-room. There is a short pause and then he reappears, entering the study at the door opening from the vestibule, followed by_ ROOPE.] It's Mr. Roope, sir!

PHILIP.

No! [_Throwing his book aside and jumping up._] Why, Robbie!

ROOPE.

[_As they shake hands vigorously._] My dear fellow!

PHILIP.

Return of the wanderer! When did you get back?

ROOPE.

Last night.

PHILIP.

Take your coat off, you old ruffian. [_Putting his pipe down._] I _am_ glad.

ROOPE.

[_To_ JOHN, _who relieves him of his hat, overcoat, and neckerchief._] How are _you_, John?

JOHN.

Splendid, Mr. Roope. [_Beaming._] Our new novel is _sech_ a success, sir.

PHILIP.

Ha, ha, ha, ha!

ROOPE.

[_To_ JOHN.] So Mr. Mackworth wrote and told me. [_Giving his gloves to_ JOHN.] Congratulate you, John.

JOHN.

[_Depositing the hat, coat, etc., upon the settee on the left._] Thank you, sir.

ROOPE.

[_Crossing to the fireplace, rubbing his hands, as_ JOHN _retires to the dining-room._] Oh, my dear Phil, this dreadful climate after the sunshine of the Lago Maggiore!

PHILIP.

[_Walking about and spouting, in high spirits._] "Italia! O Italia! thou who hast the fatal gift of beauty----!"

ROOPE.

Sir Loftus and Lady Glazebrook were moving on to Rome, or I really believe I could have endured another month at their villa, bores as they are, dear kind souls! [_Looking towards the dining-room, where_ JOHN _and the waiter are now placing a handsome centre-piece of flowers upon the round table._] Hallo! A dinner-party, Phil?

PHILIP.

Dinner-party? A banquet!

ROOPE.

To celebrate the success of the book?

PHILIP.

That and something more. This festival, sir, of the preparations for which you are a privileged spectator--[_shouting to_ JOHN] shut those doors, John----

JOHN.

Yessir.

PHILIP.

[_Sitting in the chair on the left of the smoking-table as_ JOHN _closes the big doors._] This festival, my dear Robbie--[_glancing over his shoulder to assure himself that the doors are closed_] this festival also celebrates my formal engagement to Madame de Chaumié.

ROOPE.

[_Triumphantly._] Aha!

PHILIP.

[_Taking a cigarette from the box at his side._] Ottoline and I are to be married soon after Christmas. The civilized world is to be startled by the announcement on Monday.

ROOPE.

[_Advancing._] My dear chap, I've never heard anything that has given me greater pleasure. [PHILIP _offers_ ROOPE _the cigarette-box._] No, I won't smoke. [_Seating himself upon the settee on the right._] When was it settled?

PHILIP.

[_Lighting his cigarette._] The day before yesterday. I got Titterton to write me a letter--Titterton, my publisher--certifying to the enormous sales of the book, and sent it on to Sir Randle Filson. Nothing like documentary evidence, Robbie. [_Leaning back in his chair with outstretched legs and exhaling a wreath of tobacco-smoke._] Twenty-five thousand copies, my boy, up to date, and still going strong.

ROOPE.

Wonderful.

PHILIP.

Phew! The critics treated me generously enough, but it hung fire damnably at first. At one particularly hellish moment I could have sworn it wouldn't do more than my usual fifteen or eighteen hundred, and I cursed myself for having been such a besotted fool as to pin my faith to it. [_Sitting upright._] And then, suddenly, a rush--a tremendous rush! Twenty-four thousand went off in less than six weeks. Almost uncanny, eh? [_Touching the tobacco-jar._] Oh, lord, sometimes I think I've been putting opium into my pipe instead of this innocent baccy, and that I shall wake up to the necessity of counting my pence again and apologizing to John for being in arrear with his wages!

ROOPE.

And Titterton's letter brought the Filsons round?

PHILIP.

[_Nodding._] Brought 'em round; and I must say they've accomplished the change of attitude most graciously.

ROOPE.

[_Oracularly._] Graciously or grudgingly, they couldn't help themselves, dear excellent friend. As you had pledged yourself in effect to resign the lady if your book was a failure, it follows that they were bound to clasp you to their bosoms if it succeeded. I don't want to detract from the amiability of the Filsons for an instant----

PHILIP.

Anyhow, their opposition is at an end, and all is rosy. [_Rising and pacing the room._] Master Bertram is a trifle glum and stand-offish perhaps, but Sir Randle--! Ha, ha, ha! Sir Randle has taken Literature under his wing, Robbie, from Chaucer to Kipling, in the person of his prospective son-in-law. You'd imagine, to listen to him, that to establish ties of relationship with a literary man has been his chief aim in life.

ROOPE.

[_Jerking his head in the direction of the dining-room._] And this is to be a family gathering----?

PHILIP.

The first in the altered circumstances. I proposed a feast at a smart restaurant, but Sir Randle preferred the atmosphere which has conduced, as he puts it, to the creation of so many of my brilliant compositions. [_Behind the smoking-table, dropping the end of his cigarette into the ash-tray--gaily._] Robbie, I've had a magnificent suit of joy-rags made for the occasion!

ROOPE.

[_Earnestly._] Good! I rejoice to hear it, dear excellent friend, and I hope it portends a wholesale order to your tailor and your intention to show yourself in society again freely. [_With a laugh,_ PHILIP _goes to the fireplace and stands looking into the fire._] Begin leaving your cards at once. No more sulking in your tent! [_Rising and crossing to the other side of the room._] You have _arrived_, my dear chap; I read your name in two papers in my cabin yesterday. [_Marching up and down._] Your foot is on the ladder; you bid fair to become a celebrity, if you are not one already; and your approaching marriage sheds additional lustre on you. I envy you, Phil; I do, positively.

PHILIP.

[_Facing_ ROOPE.] Oh, of course, I shall be seen about with Ottoline during our engagement. Afterwards----

ROOPE.

[_Halting._] Afterwards----?

PHILIP.

Everything will depend on my wife--[_relishing the word_] my _wife_. Ottoline has rather lost her taste for Society with a capital S, remember.

ROOPE.

[_Testily._] That was her mood last June, when she was hypped and discontented. With a husband she can be proud of, surely----!

PHILIP.

[_Coming forward._] As a matter of fact, Robbie, I'm inclined to agree with you; I've been staring into my fire, or out of my windows here, a jolly sight too much. [_Expanding his chest._] It'll be refreshing to me to rub shoulders with people again for a bit--[_smiling_] even to find myself the object of a little interest and curiosity.

ROOPE.

[_Delighted._] Dear excellent friend!

PHILIP.

Ha, ha! You see, I'm not without my share of petty vanity. I'm consistent, though. Didn't I tell you in South Audley Street that I was as eager for fame as any man living, if only I could win it in my own way?

ROOPE.

You did.

PHILIP.

[_Exultingly._] Well, I _have_ won it in my own way, haven't I! [_Hitting the palm of his hand with his fist._] I've done what I determined to do, Robbie; what I knew I _should_ do, sooner or later! I've _got there_--got there!--by simple, honest means! Isn't it glorious?

ROOPE.

[_Cautiously._] I admit----

PHILIP.

[_Breaking in._] Oh, I don't pretend that there haven't been moments in my years of stress and struggle when I've been tempted to join the gaudy, cackling fowl whose feathers I flatter myself I've plucked pretty thoroughly in my book! But I've resisted the devil by prayers and fasting; and, by George, sir, I wouldn't swap my modest victory for the vogue of the biggest boomster in England! [_Boisterously._] Ha, ha, ha! Whoop! [_Seizing_ ROOPE _and shaking him._] Dare to preach your gospel to me _now_, you arch-apostle of quackery and self-advertisement!

ROOPE.

[_Peevishly, releasing himself._] Upon my word, Phil----!

[_The bell rings again._

PHILIP.

The cook! [_To_ ROOPE, _seeing that he is putting on his muffler._] Don't go.

ROOPE.

I must. [_Taking up his overcoat._] I merely ran along to shake hands with you, and I'm sorry I took the trouble. [PHILIP _helps him into his overcoat laughingly._] Thanks.

PHILIP.

[_Suddenly._] Robbie----!

ROOPE.

[_Struggling with an obstinate sleeve._] Hey?

PHILIP.

It's just struck me. Where are _you_ dining to-night?

ROOPE.

At the Garrick, with Hughie Champion. [_Picking up his hat and gloves._] He's getting horribly deaf and tedious; but I had nothing better.

PHILIP.

Bother Colonel Champion! I wish you could have dined with _me_.

ROOPE.

[_His hat on his head, drawing on his gloves._] Dear excellent _friend_! I should be out of place.

PHILIP.

Rubbish! Your presence would be peculiarly appropriate, my dear Robbie. Wasn't it you who brought Ottoline and me together, God bless yer! [_Observing that_ ROOPE _is weakening._] There's heaps of room for an extra chair. Everybody 'ud be delighted.

ROOPE.

[_Meditatively._] I could telephone to Hughie excusing myself. He didn't ask me till this afternoon. [_With an injured air._] I resent a short notice.

PHILIP.

[_His eyes twinkling._] Quite right. Mine's short too----

ROOPE.

That's different.

PHILIP.

Entirely. You'll come?

ROOPE.

If you're certain the Filsons and Madame de Chaumié----

PHILIP.

Certain. [_Following_ ROOPE _to the door admitting to the vestibule._] Eight o'clock.

ROOPE.

[_Opening the door._] Charming.

PHILIP.

Won't you let John fetch you a taxi?

ROOPE.

[_Shaking hands with_ PHILIP.] No, I'll walk into Holborn. [_In the doorway._] Oh, by-the-by, I've a message for you, Phil.

PHILIP.

From whom?

ROOPE.

Barradell, of all people in the world.

PHILIP.

[_Surprised._] Sir Timothy?

ROOPE.

He's home. I crossed with him yesterday, and we travelled in the same carriage from Dover.

PHILIP.

What's the message?

ROOPE.

He saw your book in my bag, and began talking about you. He said he hadn't met you for years, but that I was to give you his warm regards.

PHILIP.

Indeed?

ROOPE.

[_Astutely._] My impression is that he's heard rumours concerning you and Madame de Chaumié while he's been away, and that he's anxious to show he has no ill-will. I suppose your calling so often in Ennismore Gardens has been remarked.

PHILIP.

Extremely civil of him, if that's the case. [_Loftily._] Decent sort of fellow, I recollect.

ROOPE.

[_Going into the vestibule._] Very; very.

PHILIP.

Poor chap!

ROOPE.

[_Opening the outer door._] Eight o'clock, dear excellent friend.

PHILIP.

[_At his elbow._] Sharp.

ROOPE.

[_Disappearing._] _Au revoir!_

PHILIP.

_Au revoir!_ [_Calling after_ ROOPE.] Mind that corner! [_Closing the outer door with a bang and shouting._] John! [_Coming back into the study._] John! [_Closing the vestibule door._] John! [_Going to the big doors and opening the one on the left a little way._] John----!

[OTTOLINE, _richly dressed in furs, steps through the
opening and confronts him. Her cheeks are flushed and
her manner has lost some of its repose._

OTTOLINE.

[_Shutting the door behind her as she enters--playfully._] _Qu'est-ce que vous désirez John?_

PHILIP.

[_Catching her in his arms._] My dear girl!

OTTOLINE.

Ha, ha! I'm not going to stop a minute. [_Rapidly._] I've been to tea with Kitty Millington; and as I was getting into my car, I suddenly thought--! [_He kisses her._] I waited in there to avoid Robbie Roope.

PHILIP.

Robbie came back yesterday. I hope I haven't done wrong; I've asked him to dine here to-night.

OTTOLINE.

Wrong! Dear old Robbie! But I didn't want him just now. [_Loosening her wrap and hunting for a pocket in it._] I've brought you a little gift, Phil--_en souvenir de cette soirée_----

PHILIP.

[_Reprovingly._] Oh----!

OTTOLINE.

I got it at Cartier's this afternoon. I meant to slip it into your serviette to-night quietly, but it's burning a hole in my pocket. [_She produces a small jewel-case and presents it to him._] Will you wear that in your tie sometimes?

PHILIP.

[_Opening the case and gazing at its contents._] Phiou! [_She leaves him, walking away to the fireplace._] What a gorgeous pearl! [_He follows her and they stand side by side, he holding the case at arm's-length admiringly, his other arm round her waist._] You shouldn't, Otto. You're incorrigible.

OTTOLINE.

[_Leaning her head against his shoulder--softly._] Phil----

PHILIP.

[_Still gazing at the scarf-pin._] To-morrow I'll buy the most beautiful silk scarf ever weaved.

OTTOLINE.

Phil, I've a feeling that it's from to-night, when I sit at your table--how sweet your flowers are; I couldn't help noticing them!--I've a feeling that it's from to-night that we really belong to each other.

PHILIP.

[_Pressing her closer to him._] Ah----!

OTTOLINE.

[_With a shiver, closing her eyes._] What has gone before has been hateful--hateful!

PHILIP.

[_Looking down upon her fondly._] Hateful?

OTTOLINE.

Until--until your book commenced to sell, at any rate. Suspense--a horrid sensation of uneasiness, mistrust--the fear that, through your foolish, hasty promise to mother and Dad, you might, after all, unite with them to cheat me out of my happiness! That's what it has been to _me_, Philip.

PHILIP.

[_Rallying her, but a little guiltily._] Ha, ha, ha! You goose! I knew exactly how events would shape, Otto; hadn't a doubt on the subject. [_Shutting the jewel-case with a snap and a flourish._] _I_ knew----

OTTOLINE.

[_Releasing herself._] Ah, yes, I dare say I've been dreadfully stupid. [_Shaking herself, as if to rid herself of unpleasant memories, and again leaving him._] Well! _Sans adieu!_ [_Fastening her wrap._] Get your hat and take me downstairs.

PHILIP.

Wait a moment! [_Chuckling._] Ho, ho! I'm not to be outdone altogether. [_Pocketing her gift, he goes to the cabinet on the right and unlocks it. She watches him from the middle of the room. Presently he comes to her, carrying a little ring-case._] Take off your glove--[_pointing to her left hand_] that one. [_She removes her glove tremulously. He takes a ring from the case, tosses the case on to the writing-table, and slips the ring on her third finger._] By George, I'm in luck; blessed if it doesn't fit!

[_She surveys the ring in silence for a while; then she
puts her arms round his neck and hides her face on his
breast._

OTTOLINE.

[_Almost inaudibly._] Oh, Phil!

PHILIP.

[_Tenderly._] And so this is the end of the journey, Otto!

OTTOLINE.

[_In a whisper._] The end?

PHILIP.

The dreary journey in opposite directions you and I set out upon nearly eleven years ago in Paris.

OTTOLINE.

[_Quivering._] Ah----!

PHILIP.

My dear, what does it matter as long as our roads meet at last, and meet where there are clear pools to bathe our vagabond feet and sunshine to heal our sore bodies! [_She raises her head and rummages for her handkerchief._] Otto----!

OTTOLINE.

Yes?

PHILIP.

In April--eh----?

OTTOLINE.

[_Drying her eyes._] April----?

PHILIP.

You haven't forgotten the compact we entered into at Robbie Roope's?

OTTOLINE.

[_Brightening._] Ah, no!

PHILIP.

In April we walk under the chestnut-trees once more in the Champs-Elysées----!

OTTOLINE.

[_Smiling through her tears._] And the Allée de Longchamp----!

PHILIP.

As husband and wife--we shall be an old married couple by then----!

OTTOLINE.

[_Pulling on her glove._] And drink milk at the d'Armenonville----!

PHILIP.

And the Pré-Catelan----!

OTTOLINE.

And we'll make pilgrimages, Phil----!

PHILIP.

Yes, we'll gaze up at the windows of my gloomy lodgings in the Rue Soufflot--what was the number?----

OTTOLINE.

[_Contracting her brows._] _Quarante-trois bis._

PHILIP.

[_Banteringly._] Where you honoured me with a visit, madame, with your maid Nanette----

OTTOLINE.

[_Warding off the recollection with a gesture._] Oh, don't----!

PHILIP.

Ha, ha, ha! A shame of me----!

OTTOLINE.

[_Turning from him._] Do get your hat and coat.

PHILIP.

[_Going into the vestibule._] Where's your car?

OTTOLINE.

[_Moving towards the vestibule._] In South Square.

PHILIP.

[_Returning to her, a cape over his shoulders, a soft hat on his head._] Eight o'clock!

OTTOLINE.

Eight o'clock.

[_He takes her hands and they stand looking into each
other's eyes._

PHILIP.

[_After a pause._] Fancy!

OTTOLINE.

[_Faintly._] Fancy! [_He is drawing her to him slowly when, uttering a low cry, she embraces him wildly and passionately._] Oh! [_Clinging to him._] Oh, Phil! Oh--oh--oh----!

PHILIP.

[_Responding to her embrace._] Otto--Otto----!

OTTOLINE.

[_Breaking from him._] Oh----!

[_She hurries to the outer door. He follows her quickly,
closing the vestibule door after him. Then the outer
door is heard to shut, and the curtain falls. After a
short interval, the curtain rises again, showing all the
doors closed and the study in darkness save for the
light of the fire. The bell rings, and again there is an
interval; and then the vestibule door is opened by_
JOHN--_attired for waiting at table--and_ BERTRAM
_brushes past him and enters._ BERTRAM _is in evening
dress._

BERTRAM.

[_As he enters, brusquely._] Yes, I know I'm a little too soon. I want to speak to Mr. Mackworth--before the others come, I mean t'say----

[JOHN _switches on the light of a lamp by the vestibule
door. It is now seen that_ BERTRAM _is greatly flustered
and excited._

JOHN.

[_Taking_ BERTRAM's _hat, overcoat, etc._] I'll tell Mr. Mackworth, sir. He's dressin'.

[JOHN, _eyeing_ BERTRAM _wonderingly, goes to the door
of the bedroom_. _There, having switched on the light of
another lamp, he knocks._

PHILIP.

[_From the bedroom._] Yes?

JOHN.

[_Opening the door a few inches._] Mr. Filson, sir.

PHILIP.

[_Calling out._] Hallo, Bertram!

JOHN.

Mr. Filson wants to speak to you, sir.

PHILIP.

I'll be with him in ten seconds. Leave the door open.

JOHN.

Yessir.

[JOHN _withdraws, carrying_ BERTRAM's _outdoor things
into the vestibule and shutting the vestibule door_.

PHILIP.

[_Calling to_ BERTRAM _again_.] I'm in the throes of tying a bow, old man. Sit down. [BERTRAM, _glaring at the bedroom door, remains standing_.] O'ho, that's fine! Ha, ha, ha! I warn you, I'm an overpowering swell to-night. A new suit of clothes, Bertram, devised and executed in less than thirty-six hours! And a fit, sir; every item of it! You'll be green with envy when you see this coat. I'm ready for you. Handkerchief--? [_Shouting._] John--! Oh, here it is! [_Switching off the light in the bedroom and appearing, immaculately dressed, in the doorway._] Behold! [_Closing the door and advancing to_ BERTRAM.] How are you, Bertram? [BERTRAM _refuses_ PHILIP's _hand by putting his own behind his back_. PHILIP _raises his eyebrows_.] Oh? [_A pause._] Anything amiss? [_Observing_ BERTRAM's _heated look_.] You don't look well, Filson.

BERTRAM.

[_Breathing heavily._] No, I'm not well--I mean t'say, I'm sick with indignation----

PHILIP.

What about?

BERTRAM.

You've attempted to play us all a rascally trick, Mackworth; a low, scurvy, contemptible----

PHILIP.

[_Frowning._] A trick?

BERTRAM.

I've just come from Mr. Dunning--a man I've thought it my duty to employ in the interests of my family--Sillitoe and Dunning, the private-inquiry people----

PHILIP.

Private-inquiry people?

BERTRAM.

Dunning rang me up an hour ago, and I went down to him. The discovery wasn't clinched till this afternoon----

PHILIP.

The discovery?

BERTRAM.

[_Derisively._] Ho! This precious book of yours--"The Big Drum"! A grand success, Mackworth!

PHILIP.

[_Perplexed._] I don't----

BERTRAM.

"The Big Drum"! Wouldn't "The Big Fraud" be a more suitable title, I mean t'say?

PHILIP.

Fraud?

BERTRAM.

Reached its twenty-fifth thousand, and the demand still continues! You and Mr. what's-his-name--Titterton--ought to be publicly exposed, Mackworth; and if we were in the least spiteful and vindictive----

PHILIP.

[_Tightening his lips._] Are you sober, Filson?

BERTRAM.

Now, don't you be insolent, because it won't answer. [PHILIP _winces, but restrains himself._] The question is, what are we to do _to-night_--for Ottoline's sake, I mean t'say. We must spare her as much shock and distress as possible. I assume you've sufficient decency left to agree with me there. My father and mother too--they're quite ignorant of the steps I've been taking----

PHILIP.

[_Controlling himself with difficulty._] My good fellow, will you condescend to explain----?

BERTRAM.

[_Walking away._] Oh, it's no use, Mackworth--this air of innocence! [_Puffing himself out and strutting to and fro on the left._] It's simply wasted effort, I mean t'say. In five minutes I can have Dunning here with the whole disreputable story. He's close by--bottom of Chancery Lane. He'll be at his office till half-past-eleven----

PHILIP.

[_Between his teeth--thrusting his hands into his trouser-pockets._] Very accommodating of him!

BERTRAM.

I tried to get on to my father from Dunning's--to ask his advice, I mean t'say--but he'd dressed early and gone to one of his clubs, and they couldn't tell me which one. [_Halting and looking at his watch._] _My_ suggestion is that you and I should struggle through this farce of a dinner as best we can--as if nothing had happened. I mean t'say--and that I should reserve the disclosure of your caddish conduct till to-morrow. You assent to that course, Mackworth? [_Dabbing his forehead with his handkerchief._] Thank heaven, the announcement of the engagement hasn't appeared!

PHILIP.

[_In a calm voice._] Bertram--[_pointing to the chair on the left of the smoking-table_] Bertie, old man--[_seating himself easily upon the settee on the right_] you're your sister's brother and I'm not going to lose my temper----

BERTRAM.

[_Sneeringly._] My dear sir----

PHILIP.

[_Leaning back and crossing his legs._] One thing I seem to grasp clearly; and that is that, while I've been endeavouring to conciliate you, and make a pal of you, you've been leaguing yourself with a tame detective with the idea of injuring me in some way with Ottoline and your father and mother. [_Folding his arms._] That's correct, isn't it?

BERTRAM.

[_With a disdainful shrug._] If you think it will benefit you to distort my motives, Mackworth, pray do so. [_Returning to the middle of the room._] What I've done, I've done, as I've already stated, from a sheer sense of duty----

PHILIP.

[_Again pointing to the chair._] Please! You'll look less formidable, old man----

BERTRAM.

[_Sitting, haughtily._] Knowing what depended on the fate of your book, I felt from the first that you might be unscrupulous enough to induce your publisher to represent it as being a popular success--in order to impose on us, I mean t'say--though actually it was another of your failures to hit the mark; and when Titterton started blowing the trumpet so loudly, my suspicions increased. [PHILIP _slowly unfolds his arms._] As for desiring to injure you with my family at any price, I scorn the charge. I've had the delicacy to refrain from even mentioning my suspicions to my father and mother, let alone Ottoline. [_Putting his necktie straight and smoothing his hair and his slightly crumpled shirt-front._] Deeply as I regret your connection with my sister, I should have been only too happy, I mean t'say, if my poor opinion of you had been falsified.

PHILIP.

[_His hands clenched, but preserving his suavity._] Extremely grateful to you, Bertie. I see! And so, burdened by these suspicions, you carried them to Mr.--Mr. Gunning?

BERTRAM.

Dunning. I didn't regard it as a job for a respectable solicitor----

PHILIP.

[_Politely._] _Didn't_ you!

BERTRAM.

Not that there's anything against Dunning----

PHILIP.

[_Uncrossing his legs and sitting upright._] Well, that brings us to the point, doesn't it?

BERTRAM.

The point?

PHILIP.

The precise, and illuminating, details of the fable your friend at the bottom of Chancery Lane is fooling you with.

BERTRAM.

[_In a pitying tone._] Oh, my dear Mackworth! I repeat, it's no _use_ your adopting this attitude. You don't realize how completely you're bowled over, I mean t'say. Dunning's got incontestable proofs----

PHILIP.

[_Jumping up, unable to repress himself any longer._] Damn the impudent scoundrel----!

[_The bell rings._

BERTRAM.

[_Listening._] Your bell!

PHILIP.

[_Striding to the left and then to the fireplace._] You said he's still at his office, didn't you?

BERTRAM.

[_Rising._] Yes.

PHILIP.

[_Pointing to the telephone, imperatively._] Get him here at once.

BERTRAM.

[_Rather taken aback._] At once?

PHILIP.

I'll deal with this gentleman promptly.

BERTRAM.

[_Icily._] Not before Ottoline and my parents, I hope?

PHILIP.

[_Seizing the poker and attacking the fire furiously._] Before Ottoline and your parents.

BERTRAM.

A most painful scene for them, I mean t'say----

PHILIP.

A painful scene for you and Mr. Dunning.

BERTRAM.

_After_ dinner--when they've gone--you and I'll go down to Dunning----

PHILIP.

[_Flinging the poker into the grate and facing_ BERTRAM.] Confound you, you don't suppose I'm going to act on your suggestion, and grin through a long meal with this between us! [_Pointing to the telephone again._] Ring him up, you treacherous little whelp--quick! [_Advancing._] If _you_ won't----!

BERTRAM.

[_Bristling._] Oh, very good! [_Pausing on his way to the telephone and addressing_ PHILIP _with an evil expression._] You were always a bully and a blusterer, Mackworth; but, take my word for it, if you fancy you can bully Mr. Dunning, and bluster to my family, with any satisfactory results to yourself, you're vastly mistaken.

PHILIP.

[_Gruffly._] I beg your pardon; sorry I exploded.

BERTRAM.

[_Scowling._] It's of no consequence. [_At the telephone, his ear to the receiver._] I am absolutely indifferent to your vulgar abuse, I mean t'say.

[JOHN _announces_ ROOPE. _Note:_ ROOPE _and the rest of
the guests divest themselves of their overcoats, wraps,
etc., in the vestibule before entering the room._

JOHN.

Mr. Roope.

ROOPE.

[_Greeting_ PHILIP _as_ JOHN _withdraws._] Am I the first----?

PHILIP.

[_Glancing at_ BERTRAM.] No.

BERTRAM.

[_Speaking into the telephone._] Holborn, three eight nine eight.

ROOPE.

[_Waving his hand to Bertram._] Ah! How _are_ you, my dear Mr. Filson?

BERTRAM.

[_To_ ROOPE, _sulkily._] How'r you? Excuse me----

ROOPE.

[_To_ PHILIP.] My dear Phil, these excursions to the east are delightful; they are positively. The sights fill me with amazement. I----

PHILIP.

[_Cutting him short by leading him to the fireplace._] Robbie----

ROOPE.

Hey?

PHILIP.

[_Grimly, dropping his voice._] Are you hungry?

ROOPE.

Dear excellent friend, since you put the question so plainly, I don't mind avowing that I _am_--devilish hungry. Why----?

PHILIP.

There may be a slight delay, old chap.

ROOPE.

Delay?

PHILIP.

Yes, the east hasn't exhausted its marvels yet, by a long chalk.

ROOPE.

[_Looking at him curiously._] Nothing the matter, Phil?

BERTRAM.

[_Suddenly, into the telephone._] That you, Dunning----?

PHILIP.

[_To_ ROOPE.] Robbie----

[_Turning to the fire,_ PHILIP _talks rapidly and
energetically to_ ROOPE _in undertones._

BERTRAM.

[_Into the telephone._] Filson.... Mr. Filson.... I'm speaking from Gray's Inn.... Gray's Inn--Mr. Mackworth's chambers--2, Friars Court.... You're wanted, Dunning.... Now--immediately.... Yes, jump into a taxicab and come up, will you?...

ROOPE.

[_To_ PHILIP, _aloud, opening his eyes widely._] My dear Phil----!

PHILIP.

[_With a big laugh._] Ha, ha, ha, ha----!

BERTRAM.

[_To_ PHILIP, _angrily._] Quiet! I can't hear. [_Into the telephone._] I can't hear; there's such a beastly noise going on--what?... Dash it, you can get something to eat at _any_ time! I mean to _say_--!... Eh?... [_Irritably._] Oh, of course you may have a wash and brush up!... Yes, he _is_.... You're coming, then?... Right! Goo'bye.

ROOPE.

[_To_ PHILIP, _who has resumed his communication to_ ROOPE_--incredulously._] Dear excellent friend----!

[_The door-bell rings again._

PHILIP.

Ah--! [_Pausing on his way to the vestibule door--to_ BERTRAM.] Mr. Dunning will favour us with his distinguished company?

BERTRAM.

[_Behind the table on the left, loweringly._] In a few minutes. He's washing.

PHILIP.

Washing? Some of his customers' dirty linen? [_As he opens the vestibule door,_ JOHN _admits_ SIR RANDLE FILSON _at the outer door._] Ah, Sir Randle!

SIR RANDLE.

[_Heartily._] Well, Philip, my boy! [_While_ JOHN _is taking his hat, overcoat, etc._] Are my dear wife and daughter here yet?

PHILIP.

Not yet.

SIR RANDLE.

I looked in at Brooks's on my way to you. I hadn't been there for months. [_To_ JOHN.] My muffler in the right-hand pocket. Thank you. [_Entering and shaking hands with_ PHILIP.] Ha! They gave me quite a warm welcome. Very gratifying. [ROOPE _advances._] Mr. Roope! [_Shaking hands with_ ROOPE _as_ PHILIP _shuts the vestibule door._] An unexpected pleasure!

ROOPE.

[_Uneasily._] Er--I am rather an interloper, I'm afraid, my dear Sir Randle----

SIR RANDLE.

[_Retaining his hand._] No. [_Emphatically._] _No._ This is one of Philip's many happy inspirations. If my memory is accurate, it was at your charming flat in South Audley Street that he and my darling child--[_discovering_ BERTRAM, _who is now by the settee on the left._] Bertie! [_Going to him._] I haven't seen you all day, Bertie dear. [_Kissing him on the forehead._] Busy, eh?

BERTRAM.

[_Stiffly._] Yes, father.

PHILIP.

[_At the chair on the left of the smoking-table, dryly._] Bertram has been telling me how busy he has been, Sir Randle----

SIR RANDLE.

[_Not perceiving the general air of restraint._] That reminds me--[_moving, full of importance, to the settee on the right--feeling in his breast-pocket_] the announcement of the engagement, Philip--[_seating himself and producing a pocket-book_] Lady Filson and I drew it up this morning. [_Hunting among some letters and papers._] I _believe_ it is in the conventional form; but we so thoroughly sympathize with you and Ottoline in your dislike for anything that savours of pomp and flourish that we hesitate, without your sanction, to--[_selecting a paper and handing it to_ PHILIP] ah! [_To_ ROOPE, _who has returned to the fireplace--over his shoulder._] I am treating you as one of ourselves, Mr. Roope----

ROOPE.

[_In a murmur._] Dear excellent friend----!

SIR RANDLE.

[_To_ PHILIP.] We propose to insert it only in the three or four principal journals----

PHILIP.

[_Frowning at the paper._] Sir Randle----

SIR RANDLE.

[_Blandly._] Eh?

PHILIP.

Haven't you given me the wrong paper?

SIR RANDLE.

[_With a look of alarm, hurriedly putting on his pince-nez and searching in his pocket-book again._] The wrong----?

PHILIP.

This has "Universal News Agency" written in the corner of it.

SIR RANDLE.

[_Holding out his hand for the paper, faintly._] Oh----!

PHILIP.

[_Ignoring_ SIR RANDLE's _hand--reading._] "The extraordinary stir, which we venture to prophesy will not soon be eclipsed, made by Mr. Philip Mackworth's recent novel, 'The Big Drum,' lends additional interest to the announcement of his forthcoming marriage to the beautiful Madame de Chaumié--" [_The bell rings. He listens to it, and then goes on reading._] "--the beautiful Madame de Chaumié, daughter of the widely and deservedly popular--the widely and deservedly popular Sir Randle and Lady Filson----"

[_After reading it to the end silently, he restores the
paper to_ SIR RANDLE _with a smile and a slight bow._

SIR RANDLE.

[_Collecting himself._] Er--Lady Filson and I thought it might be prudent, Philip, to--er--to give a lead to the inevitable comments of the press. [_Replacing the paper in his pocket-book._] If you object, my dear boy----

PHILIP.

[_With a motion of the head towards the vestibule door._] That must _be_ Lady Filson and Ottoline.

[_He goes to the door and opens it._ LADY FILSON _and_
OTTOLINE _are in the vestibule and_ JOHN _is taking_
LADY FILSON's _wrap from her._

LADY FILSON.

[_Brimming over with good humour._] Ah, Philip! Don't say we're late!

PHILIP.

[_Lightly._] I won't.

LADY FILSON.

[_Entering and shaking hands with him._] Your staircase is so dark, it takes an age to climb it. [_To_ ROOPE, _who comes forward, shaking hands with him._] How nice! Ottoline told me, coming along, that we were to meet you.

ROOPE.

[_Bending over her hand._] Dear lady!

LADY FILSON.

[_Coming to_ SIR RANDLE.] There you are, Randle! [_Nodding to_ BERTRAM, _who is sitting aloof in the chair on the extreme left._] Bertie darling! [SIR RANDLE _rises._] Aren't these rooms quaint and cosy, Randle?

SIR RANDLE.

[_Still somewhat disconcerted._] For a solitary man, ideal. [_Solemnly._] If ever I had the misfortune to be left alone in the world----

LADY FILSON.

[_Sitting on the settee on the right._] Ho, my _dear_!

[PHILIP _has joined_ OTTOLINE _in the vestibule. He now
follows her into the room, shutting the vestibule door.
She is elegantly dressed in white and, though she has
recovered her usual stateliness and composure, is a
picture of radiant happiness._

OTTOLINE.

[_Giving her hand to_ ROOPE, _who raises it to his lips--sweetly._] I am glad you are home, Robbie, and that you are here to-night. [_To_ LADY FILSON _and_ SIR RANDLE.] Mother--Dad--[_espying_ BERTRAM] oh, and there's Bertram--don't be scandalized, any of you! [_To_ ROOPE, _resting her hands on his shoulders._] _Une fois de plus, mon ami, pour vous témoigner ma gratitude!_

[_She kisses him._ LADY FILSON _laughs indulgently, and_
SIR RANDLE, _wagging his head, moves to the fireplace._

ROOPE.

Ha, ha, ha----!

OTTOLINE.

Ha, ha, ha! [_Going to the fireplace._] Ah, what a lovely fire! [_To_ SIR RANDLE, _as_ ROOPE _seats himself in the chair by the smoking-table and prepares to make himself agreeable to_ LADY FILSON.] Share it with me, Dad, and let me warm my toes before dinner. I'm frozen!

PHILIP.

[_Coming to the middle of the room._] My dear Ottoline--Lady Filson--Sir Randle--I fear we shall _all_ have time to warm our toes before dinner. [ROOPE, _who is about to address a remark to_ LADY FILSON, _puts his hand to his mouth, and_ SIR RANDLE _and_ LADY FILSON _look at_ PHILIP _inquiringly._] You mustn't blame me wholly for the hitch in my poor entertainment----

LADY FILSON.

[_Amiably._] The kitchen! I guess your difficulties, Philip----

PHILIP.

No, nor my kitchen either----

OTTOLINE.

[_Turning the chair on the nearer side of the fireplace so that it faces the fire._] The cook wasn't punctual! [_Installing herself in the chair._] _Ah, la, la! Ces cuisinières causent la moitié des ennuis sur cette terre!_

PHILIP.

Oh, yes, the cook was punctual. [_His manner hardening a little._] The truth is, we are waiting for a Mr. Dunning.

LADY FILSON.

Mr.----?

SIR RANDLE.

Mr.----?

OTTOLINE.

[_From her chair, where she is almost completely hidden from the others--comfortably._] Good gracious! Who's Mr. Dunning, Philip?

[JOHN _and the waiter open the big doors. The
dining-table, round which the chairs are now arranged,
is prettily lighted by shaded candles._

PHILIP.

[_To_ JOHN, _sharply._] John----

JOHN.

Yessir?

PHILIP.

Tell the cook to keep the dinner back for a little while. Do you hear?

JOHN.

[_Astonished._] Keep dinner back, sir?

PHILIP.

Yes. And when Mr. Dunning calls--[_distinctly_] Dunning----

JOHN.

Yessir.

PHILIP.

I'll see him. Show him in.

JOHN.

Yessir.

PHILIP.

You may serve dinner as soon as he's gone. I'll ring.

[JOHN _and the waiter withdraw into the kitchen,
whereupon_ PHILIP, _after watching their departure,
deliberately closes the big doors._ ROOPE, _who has been
picking at his nails nervously, rises and steals away to
the left, and_ SIR RANDLE, _advancing a step or two,
exchanges questioning glances with_ LADY FILSON.

OTTOLINE.

[_Laughingly._] What a terrible shock! I was frightened that Philip had sprung a strange guest upon us. [_As_ PHILIP _is shutting the doors._] _Vous êtes bien mystérieux, Phil?_ Why are we to starve until this Mr. Dunning has come and gone?

PHILIP.

Because if I tried to eat without having first disposed of the reptile, Otto, I should choke.

LADY FILSON.

[_Bewildered._] Reptile?

OTTOLINE.

Philip!

PHILIP.

[_At the chair beside the smoking-table--to_ LADY FILSON.] I apologize very humbly for making you and Sir Randle, and dear Ottoline, parties to such unpleasant proceedings, Lady Filson; but the necessity is forced upon me. [_Coming forward._] Mr. Dunning is one of those crawling creatures who conduct what are known as confidential inquiries. In other words, he's a private detective--an odd sort of person to present to you!----

LADY FILSON.

[_Under her breath._] Great heavens!

PHILIP.

And he has lightened your son's purse, presumably, and crammed his willing ears with some ridiculous, fantastic tale concerning my book--"The Big Drum." Mr. Dunning professes to have discovered that I have conspired with a wicked publisher to deceive you all; that the book's another of my miss-hits, and that I'm a designing rogue and liar. [_To_ BERTRAM.] Come on, Bertram; don't sit there as if you were a stuffed figure! Speak out, and tell your father and mother what you've been up to!

LADY FILSON.

[_Open-mouthed._] Bertie!

SIR RANDLE.

[_Moving towards_ BERTRAM, _mildly._] Bertram, my boy----?

BERTRAM.

[_Curling his lip--to_ PHILIP.] Oh, you seem to be getting on exceedingly well without my assistance, Mackworth. I'm content to hold my tongue till Dunning arrives, I mean t'say.

PHILIP.

[_Approaching_ LADY FILSON.] You see, Lady Filson, Master Bertram is endowed with an exceptionally active brain; and when I gave those assurances to you and Sir Randle last June, it occurred to him that, in the event of my book failing to attract the market, there was a danger of my palming it off, with the kind aid of my publisher, as the out-and-out triumph I'd bragged of in advance; and the loud blasts of Titterton's trumpet strengthened Master Bertie's apprehensions. [OTTOLINE, _unobserved, rises unsteadily and, with her eyes fixed fiercely upon_ BERTRAM, _crosses the room at the back._] So what does he do, bless him for his devotion to his belongings! To safeguard his parents from being jockeyed, and as a brotherly precaution, he enlists the services, on the sly, of the obliging Mr. Dunning. We shall shortly have an opportunity of judging what that individual's game is. [_With a shrug._] He _may_ have stumbled legitimately into a mare's nest; but I doubt it. These ruffians'll stick at nothing to keep an ingenuous client on the hook--[_He is interrupted by feeling_ OTTOLINE's _hand upon his arm. He lays his hand on hers gently._] Otto dear----

OTTOLINE.

[_Clutching him tightly and articulating with an effort._] It--it's infamous--shameful! My--my brother! It's infamous!

PHILIP.

Oh, it'll be all over in ten minutes. And then Bertie and I will shake hands--won't we, Bertie?--and forget the wretched incident----

OTTOLINE.

[_Confronting_ BERTRAM, _trembling with passion._] How dare you! How dare you meddle with my affairs--mine and Mr. Mackworth's! How dare you!

BERTRAM.

[_Straightening himself._] Look heah, Ottoline----!

OTTOLINE.

Stand up when I speak to you!

[BERTRAM _gets to his feet in a hurry._

LADY FILSON.

[_Appealingly._] Otto----!

OTTOLINE.

[_To_ BERTRAM.] All your life you've been paltry, odious, detestable----

BERTRAM.

Look heah----!

OTTOLINE.

But _this_! My God! For you--for any of us--to impugn the honesty of a man whose shadow we're not fit to walk in----!

SIR RANDLE.

[_To_ LADY FILSON_--pained._] Winifred----!

OTTOLINE.

[_To_ BERTRAM.] You--you--you're no better than your common, hired spy----!

LADY FILSON.

[_Rising and going to_ OTTOLINE.] My child, remember----!

OTTOLINE.

[_Clenching her hands and hissing her words at_ BERTRAM.] _C'est la vérité! Tu n'es qu'une canaille--une vile canaille----!_

LADY FILSON.

Control yourself, I _beg_!

OTTOLINE.

[_To_ LADY FILSON.] Leave me alone----!

[_She passes_ LADY FILSON _and sits on the settee on the
right with glittering eyes and heaving bosom._ PHILIP
_has withdrawn to the fireplace and is standing looking
into the fire._

LADY FILSON.

[_To_ BERTRAM.] Bertie dear, I'm surprised at you! To do a thing like this behind our backs!

BERTRAM.

My dear mother, I knew that you and father wouldn't do it----

LADY FILSON.

I should think not, indeed!

SIR RANDLE.

[_To_ BERTRAM.] Your mother and I!

LADY FILSON.

[_Horrified at the notion._] Oh!

BERTRAM.

Upon my word, this is rather rough! [_Walking away._] I mean to _say_----!

PHILIP.

[_Turning._] We mustn't be too hard on poor Bertram, Lady Filson----

BERTRAM.

[_Pacing the room near the big doors._] Poor Bertram! Ho!

SIR RANDLE.

[_To_ PHILIP.] I trust we are never unduly hard on our children, my dear Philip----

PHILIP.

To do him justice, he was most anxious to postpone these dreadful revelations till to-morrow----

BERTRAM.

Exactly! [_Throwing himself into the chair between the big doors and the vestibule door._] I predicted a scene! I predicted a scene!

PHILIP.

[_To_ SIR RANDLE _and_ LADY FILSON, _penitently._] Perhaps it would have been wiser of me--more considerate--to have complied with his wishes. But I was in a fury--naturally----

LADY FILSON.

[_Sitting on the settee on the left._] Naturally.

SIR RANDLE.

And excusably. I myself, in similar circumstances----

PHILIP.

[_Rubbing his head._] Why the deuce couldn't he have kept his twopenny thunderbolt in his pocket for a few hours, instead of launching it to-night and spoiling our _sole à la Morny_ and our _ris de veau_----!

OTTOLINE.

[_Gradually composing herself and regaining her dignity_]. P-P-Philip----

PHILIP.

[_Coming to the smoking-table._] Eh?

OTTOLINE.

[_Passing her handkerchief over her lips._] Need you--need you see this man to-night? Can't you stop him coming--or send him away?

PHILIP.

Not see him----?

OTTOLINE.

Why--why should you stoop to see him at all? Why shouldn't the matter be allowed to drop--to drop?

PHILIP.

Drop!

OTTOLINE.

It--it's too monstrous; too absurd. [_To_ BERTRAM, _with a laugh._] Ha, ha, ha! Bertie--Bertie dear----

BERTRAM.

[_Sullenly._] Yes?

OTTOLINE.

Ha, ha! I almost scared you out of your wits, didn't I?

BERTRAM.

You've behaved excessively rudely----

LADY FILSON.

Bertram--Bertram----

BERTRAM.

I mean to _say_, mother! What becomes of family loyalty----?

OTTOLINE.

[_To_ BERTRAM, _coaxingly._] Forgive me, Bertram. I'm ashamed of my violent outburst. Forgive me----

ROOPE.

[_Who has been effacing himself behind the table on the left, appearing at the nearer end of the table._] Er--dear excellent friends--[SIR RANDLE _and_ LADY FILSON _look at_ ROOPE _as if he had fallen from the skies, and_ BERTRAM _stares at him resentfully._] dear excellent friends, if I may be permitted to make an observation----

PHILIP.

[_To_ ROOPE.] Go ahead, old man.

ROOPE.

In my opinion, it would be a thousand pities not to see Mr. Dunning to-night, and have done with him. [_Cheerfully._] The fish is ruined--we must resign ourselves to that; [_sitting in the chair on the extreme left_] but the other dishes, if the cook is fairly competent----

SIR RANDLE.

[_Advancing._] Mr. Roope's opinion is my opinion also. [_Ponderously._] As to whether Lady Filson and my daughter should withdraw into an adjoining room----

LADY FILSON.

_I_ feel with Philip; we couldn't sit down to dinner with this cloud hanging over us----

SIR RANDLE.

[_Sitting in the chair by the smoking-table._] Impossible! I must be frank. Impossible!

ROOPE.

Dear Madame de Chaumié will pardon me for differing with her, but you can't very well ignore even a fellow of this stamp--[_glancing at_ BERTRAM] especially, if I understand aright, my excellent friend over there still persists----

BERTRAM.

[_Morosely._] Yes, you do understand aright, Roope. I've every confidence in Dunning, I mean t'say----

PHILIP.

[_Turning away, angrily._] Oh----!

LADY FILSON.

[_Severely._] Bertie----!

SIR RANDLE.

Bertram, my _boy_----!

[_The bell rings. There is a short silence, and then_
BERTRAM _rises and pulls down his waistcoat
portentously._

BERTRAM.

Here he is.

OTTOLINE.

[_To_ LADY FILSON, _in a low voice._] Mother----?

LADY FILSON.

[_To_ PHILIP.] Do _you_ wish us to withdraw, Philip?

PHILIP.

[_Sitting at the writing-table._] Not at all, Lady Filson. [_Switching on the light of the library-lamp, sternly._] On the contrary, I should like you both to remain.

LADY FILSON.

[_To_ OTTOLINE.] Otto dear----?

OTTOLINE.

[_Adjusting a comb in her hair._] Oh, certainly, mother, I'll stay.

LADY FILSON.

[_Arranging her skirt and settling herself majestically._] Of this we may be perfectly sure; when my son finds that he has been misled, purposely or unintentionally, he will be only too ready--_too_ ready----

SIR RANDLE.

[_Leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes._] That goes without saying, Winifred. A gentleman--an English gentleman----

BERTRAM.

[_Who is watching the vestibule door--over his shoulder, snappishly._] Oh, of course, father, if it turns out that I've been sold, I'll eat humble-pie abjectly.

ROOPE.

[_Shaking a finger at_ BERTRAM.] Ha, ha! I hope you've brought a voracious appetite with you, dear excellent friend.

BERTRAM.

[_To_ ROOPE, _exasperated._] Look heah, Mr. Roope----!

[_The vestibule door opens and_ JOHN _announces_
DUNNING.

JOHN.

Mr. Dunning.

[DUNNING _enters and_ JOHN _retires._ MR. ALFRED DUNNING
_is a spruce, middle-aged, shrewd-faced man with an
affable but rather curt manner. He is in his hat and
overcoat._

DUNNING.

[_To_ BERTRAM.] Haven't kept you long, have I? I just had a cup o' cocoa--[_He checks himself on seeing so large an assembly, removes his hat, and includes everybody in a summary bow._] Evening.

BERTRAM.

[_To_ DUNNING.] Larger gathering than you expected. [_Indicating the various personages by a glance._] Sir Randle and Lady Filson--my father and mother----

DUNNING.

[_To_ SIR RANDLE _and_ LADY FILSON.] Evening.

BERTRAM.

My sister, Madame de Chaumié----

DUNNING.

[_To_ OTTOLINE.] Evening.

BERTRAM.

Mr. Roope--Mr. Mackworth----

DUNNING.

[_To them._] Evening.

[SIR RANDLE, LADY FILSON, _and_ ROOPE, _looking at_
DUNNING _out of the corners of their eyes, acknowledge
the introduction by a slight movement._ PHILIP _nods
unpleasantly._ OTTOLINE, _with a stony countenance, also
eyes_ DUNNING _askance, and gives the barest possible
inclination of her head on being named._

BERTRAM.

[_Bringing forward the chair on which he has been sitting and planting it nearer to_ SIR RANDLE _and_ LADY FILSON--_to_ DUNNING.] I suppose you may----

DUNNING.

[_Taking off his gloves and overcoat--to_ PHILIP.] D'ye mind if I slip my coat off, Mr. Mackworth?

PHILIP.

[_Growling._] No.

DUNNING.

Don't want to get overheated, and catch the flue. I've got Mrs. D. in bed with a bad cold, as it is.

BERTRAM.

[_To_ DUNNING.] Now then, Mr. Dunning! I'll trouble you to give us an account of your operations in this business from the outset----

DUNNING.

[_Hanging his coat over the back of the chair._] Pleasure.

BERTRAM.

The business of Mr. Mackworth's new book, I mean t'say.

DUNNING.

[_Sitting and placing his hat on the floor._] Pleasure.

BERTRAM.

Middle of October, wasn't it, when I----?

DUNNING.

Later. [_Producing a dog's-eared little memorandum-book and turning its leaves with a moistened thumb._] Here we are--the twenty-fourth. [_To everybody, referring to his notes as he proceeds--glibly._] Mr. Filson called on me and Mr. Sillitoe, ladies and gentlemen, on the twenty-fourth of last month with reference to a book by Mr. P. Mackworth--"The Big Drum"--published September the second, and drew our attention to the advertisements of Mr. Mackworth's publisher--Mr. Clifford Titterton, of Charles Street, Adelphi--relating to the same. Mr. F. having made us acquainted with the special circumstances of the case, and furnished us with his reasons for doubting Titterton's flowery statements, [_wetting his thumb again and turning to the next leaf of his note-book_] on the following day, the twenty-fifth, I purchased a copy of the said book at Messrs. Blake and Hodgson's in the Strand, Mr. Hodgson himself informing me in the course of conversation that, as far as his firm was concerned, the book wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary. [_Repeating the thumb process._] I then proceeded to pump one of the gals--er--to interrogate one of the assistants--at a circulating library Mrs. D. subscribes to, with a similar result. [_Turning to the next leaf._] My next step----

SIR RANDLE.

I wonder whether these elaborate preliminaries----?

BERTRAM.

Oh, don't interrupt, father! I mean to _say_----!

DUNNING.

[_Imperturbably._] My next step was to place the book in the hands of a lady whose liter'y judgment is a great deal sounder than mine _or_ Mr. Sillitoe's--I allude to Mrs. D.--and her report was that, though amusing in parts, she didn't see anything in it to set the Thames on fire.

PHILIP.

[_Laughing in spite of himself._] Ha, ha, ha!

ROOPE.

Ha, ha! [_To_ PHILIP, _with mock sympathy._] Dear excellent friend!

BERTRAM.

[_To_ ROOPE.] Yes, all right, Mr. Roope----!

DUNNING.

[_Turning to the next leaf._] I and Mr. Sillitoe then had another confab--er--consultation with Mr. Filson, and we pointed out to him that it was up to his father and mother to challenge Titterton's assertions and invite proof of their accuracy.

ROOPE.

[_Quietly._] Obviously!

DUNNING.

Mr. F., however, giving us to understand that he was acting solely on his own, and that he wished the investigation kept from his family, we proposed a different plan----

BERTRAM.

To which I reluctantly assented.

DUNNING.

To get hold of somebody in Titterton's office--one of his employees, male or female----

LADY FILSON.

[_Shocked._] Oh! Oh, Bertie!

OTTOLINE.

[_Rising, with a gesture of disgust._] Ah----!

SIR RANDLE.

[_To_ BERTRAM.] Really! Really, Bertram----!

[_Seeing_ OTTOLINE _rise,_ PHILIP _also rises and comes
to her._

LADY FILSON.

That a son of mine should countenance----!

OTTOLINE.

[_Panting._] Oh, but this is--this is outrageous! [_To_ SIR RANDLE _and_ LADY FILSON.] Dad--mother--why should we degrade ourselves by listening any further? [_To_ PHILIP.] Philip----!

PHILIP.

[_Patting her shoulder soothingly._] Tsch, tsch, tsch----!

BERTRAM.

[_To_ LADY FILSON _and_ SIR RANDLE.] My dear mother--my dear father--you're so impatient!

PHILIP.

[_To_ OTTOLINE.] Tsch, tsch! Go back to the fire and toast your toes again.

BERTRAM.

I consider I was fully justified, I mean t'say----

[_Falteringly_ OTTOLINE _returns to the fireplace. She
stands there for a few seconds, clutching the
mantel-shelf, and then subsides into the chair before
the fire._ PHILIP _advances to the settee on the right._

PHILIP.

[_To_ DUNNING.] Sorry we have checked your flow of eloquence, Mr. Dunning, even for a moment. [_Sitting._] I wouldn't miss a syllable of it. [_Airily._] Do, please, continue.

SIR RANDLE.

[_Looking at his watch._] My dear Philip----!

BERTRAM.

[_To_ DUNNING, _wearily._] Oh, come to the man--what's his name, Dunning?--Merryweather----!

DUNNING.

[_Turning several pages of his note-book with his wet thumb._] Merrifield.

BERTRAM.

Merrifield. [_Passing behind_ DUNNING _and half-seating himself on the further end of the table on the left._] Skip everything in between; [_sarcastically_] my father and mother are dying for their dinner.

LADY FILSON.

Bertram!

DUNNING.

[_Finding the memorandum he is searching for, and quoting from it._] Henry Merrifield--entry clerk to Titterton--left Titterton, after a row, on the fifteenth of the present month----

BERTRAM.

A stroke of luck--Mr. Merrifield--if ever there was one! I mean t'say----

DUNNING.

[_To everybody._] Having gleaned certain significant facts from the said Henry Merrifield, ladies and gentlemen, [_referring to his notes_] I paid two visits last week to the offices of Messrs. Hopwood & Co., of 6, Carmichael Lane, Walbrook, described in fresh paint on their door as Shipping and General Agents; and the conclusion I arrived at was that Messrs. Hopwood & Co. were a myth and their offices a blind, the latter consisting of a small room on the ground floor, eight foot by twelve, and their staff of the caretakers of the premises--Mr. and Mrs. Sweasy--an old woman and her husband----

ROOPE.

[_To_ DUNNING.] If I may venture to interpose again, what on earth have Messrs. Hopwood----?

SIR RANDLE.

Yes, what have Messrs. Hopwood----?

BERTRAM.

[_Over his shoulder._] Ho! What have Messrs. Hopwood----!

ROOPE.

[_To_ BERTRAM, _pointing to_ DUNNING.] I am addressing _this_ gentleman, dear excellent friend----

DUNNING.

[_To_ ROOPE.] I'll tell you, sir. [_Incisively._] It's to the bogus firm of Hopwood & Co. that the bulk of the volumes of Mr. Mackworth's new book have been consigned.

BERTRAM.

[_Getting off the table, eagerly._] Dunning has seen them, I mean t'say----

SIR RANDLE.

[_To_ BERTRAM, _startled._] Be silent, Bertie!

LADY FILSON.

[_To_ BERTRAM, _holding her breath._] Do be quiet!

ROOPE.

[_Blankly._] The--the bulk of the volumes----?

PHILIP.

[_Staring at_ DUNNING.] The--the bulk of the----?

DUNNING.

[_To_ SIR RANDLE _and_ ROOPE.] Yes, gentlemen, the books are in a mouldy cellar, also rented by Messrs. Hopwood, at 6, Carmichael Lane. There's thousands of them there, in cases--some of the cases with shipping marks on them, some marked for inland delivery. I've inspected them this afternoon--overhauled them. Mr. Sweasy had gone over to the Borough to see his married niece, and I managed to get the right side of _Mrs._ S.

SIR RANDLE.

[_Softly, looking from one to the other._] Curious! Curious!

LADY FILSON.

[_Forcing a smile._] How--how strange!

ROOPE.

[_To_ LADY FILSON, _a little disturbed._] Why strange, dear Lady Filson? Shipping and other marks on the cases! These people are forwarding agents----

DUNNING.

[_Showing his teeth._] Nobody makes the least effort to _despatch_ the cases, though. That's singular, isn't it?

ROOPE.

But----!

DUNNING.

[_To_ ROOPE.] My good sir, in the whole of our experience--mine and Mr. Sillitoe's--we've never come across a neater bit of hankey-pankey--[_to_ PHILIP] no offence--and if Merrifield hadn't smelt a rat----

ROOPE.

But--but--but--the cost of it all, my dear Mr. Dunning! I don't know much about these things--the expense of manufacturing many thousands of copies of Mr. Mackworth's new book----!

SIR RANDLE.

[_Alertly._] Quite so! Surely, if we were to be deceived, a simpler method could have been found----?

ROOPE.

[_With energy._] Besides, what has Mr. Titterton to gain by the deception?

SIR RANDLE.

True! True! What has _he_ to gain----?

PHILIP.

[_Who is sitting with his hands hanging loosely, utterly bewildered--rousing himself._] Good God, yes! What has Titterton to gain by joining me in a blackguardly scheme to--to--to----?

DUNNING.

[_To_ SIR RANDLE _and_ ROOPE.] Well, gentlemen, in the first place, it's plain that Titterton was too fly to risk being easily blown upon----

BERTRAM.