Джон Голсуорси
Plays : Fifth Series
SCENE II [NOTE.—This should be a small set capable of being set quickly within that of the previous scene.]
Morning of the following day. The DANCYS' flat. In the sitting-room of this small abode MABEL DANCY and MARGARET ORME are sitting full face to the audience, on a couch in the centre of the room, in front of the imaginary window. There is a fireplace, Left, with fire burning; a door below it, Left; and a door on the Right, facing the audience, leads to a corridor and the outer door of the flat, which is visible. Their voices are heard in rapid exchange; then as the curtain rises, so does MABEL.
MABEL. But it's monstrous!
MARGARET. Of course! [She lights a cigarette and hands the case to MABEL, who, however, sees nothing but her own thoughts] De Levis might just as well have pitched on me, except that I can't jump more than six inches in these skirts.
MABEL. It's wicked! Yesterday afternoon at the Club, did you say? Ronny hasn't said a word to me. Why?
MARGARET. [With a long puff of smoke] Doesn't want you bothered.
MABEL. But–Good heavens!–Me!
MARGARET. Haven't you found out, Mabel, that he isn't exactly communicative? No desperate character is.
MABEL. Ronny?
MARGARET. Gracious! Wives are at a disadvantage, especially early on. You've never hunted with him, my dear. I have. He takes more sudden decisions than any man I ever knew. He's taking one now, I'll bet.
MABEL. That beast, De Levis! I was in our room next door all the time.
MARGARET. Was the door into Ronny's dressing-room open?
MABEL. I don't know; I—I think it was.
MARGARET. Well, you can say so in Court any way. Not that it matters. Wives are liars by law.
MABEL. [Staring down at her] What do you mean—Court?
MARGARET. My dear, he'll have to bring an action for defamation of character, or whatever they call it.
MABEL. Were they talking of this last night at the WINSOR's?
MARGARET. Well, you know a dinner-table, Mabel—Scandal is heaven-sent at this time of year.
MABEL. It's terrible, such a thing—terrible!
MARGARET. [Gloomily] If only Ronny weren't known to be so broke.
MABEL. [With her hands to her forehead] I can't realise—I simply can't. If there's a case would it be all right afterwards?
MARGARET. Do you remember St Offert—cards? No, you wouldn't—you were in high frocks. Well, St Offert got damages, but he also got the hoof, underneath. He lives in Ireland. There isn't the slightest connection, so far as I can see, Mabel, between innocence and reputation. Look at me!
MABEL. We'll fight it tooth and nail!
MARGARET. Mabel, you're pure wool, right through; everybody's sorry for you.
MABEL. It's for him they ought—
MARGARET. [Again handing the cigarette case] Do smoke, old thing.
MABEL takes a cigarette this time, but does not light it.
It isn't altogether simple. General Canynge was there last night. You don't mind my being beastly frank, do you?
MABEL. No. I want it.
MARGARET. Well, he's all for esprit de corps and that. But he was awfully silent.
MABEL. I hate half-hearted friends. Loyalty comes before everything.
MARGARET. Ye-es; but loyalties cut up against each other sometimes, you know.
MABEL. I must see Ronny. D'you mind if I go and try to get him on the telephone?
MARGARET. Rather not.
MABEL goes out by the door Left.
Poor kid!
She curls herself into a corner of the sofa, as if trying to get away from life. The bell rings. MARGARET stirs, gets up, and goes out into the corridor, where she opens the door to LADY ADELA WINSOR, whom she precedes into the sitting-room.
Enter the second murderer! D'you know that child knew nothing?
LADY A. Where is she?
MARGARET. Telephoning. Adela, if there's going to be an action, we shall be witnesses. I shall wear black georgette with an ecru hat. Have you ever given evidence?
LADY A. Never.
MARGARET. It must be too frightfully thrilling.
LADY A. Oh! Why did I ever ask that wretch De Levis? I used to think him pathetic. Meg did you know–Ronald Dancy's coat was wet? The General happened to feel it.
MARGARET. So that's why he was so silent.
LADY A. Yes; and after the scene in the Club yesterday he went to see those bookmakers, and Goole—what a name!—is sure he told Dancy about the sale.
MARGARET. [Suddenly] I don't care. He's my third cousin. Don't you feel you couldn't, Adela?
LADY A. Couldn't—what?
MARGARET. Stand for De Levis against one of ourselves?
LADY A. That's very narrow, Meg.
MARGARET. Oh! I know lots of splendid Jews, and I rather liked little Ferdy; but when it comes to the point—! They all stick together; why shouldn't we? It's in the blood. Open your jugular, and see if you haven't got it.
LADY A. My dear, my great grandmother was a Jewess. I'm very proud of her.
MARGARET. Inoculated. [Stretching herself] Prejudices, Adela—or are they loyalties—I don't know—cris-cross—we all cut each other's throats from the best of motives.
LADY A. Oh! I shall remember that. Delightful! [Holding up a finger] You got it from Bergson, Meg. Isn't he wonderful?
MARGARET. Yes; have you ever read him?
LADY A. Well—No. [Looking at the bedroom door] That poor child! I quite agree. I shall tell every body it's ridiculous. You don't really think Ronald Dancy—?
MARGARET. I don't know, Adela. There are people who simply can't live without danger. I'm rather like that myself. They're all right when they're getting the D.S.O. or shooting man-eaters; but if there's no excitement going, they'll make it—out of sheer craving. I've seen Ronny Dancy do the maddest things for no mortal reason except the risk. He's had a past, you know.
LADY A. Oh! Do tell!
MARGARET. He did splendidly in the war, of course, because it suited him; but—just before—don't you remember—a very queer bit of riding?
LADY A. No.
MARGARET. Most dare-devil thing—but not quite. You must remember— it was awfully talked about. And then, of course, right up to his marriage—[She lights a cigarette.]
LADY A. Meg, you're very tantalising!
MARGARET. A foreign-looking girl—most plummy. Oh! Ronny's got charm —this Mabel child doesn't know in the least what she's got hold of!
LADY A. But they're so fond of each other!
MARGARET. That's the mistake. The General isn't mentioning the coat, is he?
LADY A. Oh, no! It was only to Charles.
MABEL returns.
MARGARET. Did you get him?
MABEL. No; he's not at Tattersall's, nor at the Club.
LADY ADELA rises and greets her with an air which suggests bereavement.
LADY A. Nobody's going to believe this, my dear.
MABEL. [Looking straight at her] Nobody who does need come here, or trouble to speak to us again.
LADY A. That's what I was afraid of; you're going to be defiant. Now don't! Just be perfectly natural.
MABEL. So easy, isn't it? I could kill anybody who believes such a thing.
MARGARET. You'll want a solicitor, Mabel, Go to old Mr Jacob Twisden.
LADY A. Yes; he's so comforting.
MARGARET. He got my pearls back once—without loss of life. A frightfully good fireside manner. Do get him here, Mabel, and have a heart-to-heart talk, all three of you!
MABEL. [Suddenly] Listen! There's Ronny!
DANCY comes in.
DANCY. [With a smile] Very good of you to have come.
MARGARET. Yes. We're just going. Oh! Ronny, this is quite too—[But his face dries her up; and sidling past, she goes].
LADY A. Charles sent his-love—[Her voice dwindles on the word, and she, too, goes].
DANCY. [Crossing to his wife] What have they been saying?
MABEL. Ronny! Why didn't you tell me?
DANCY. I wanted to see De Levis again first.
MABEL. That wretch! How dare he? Darling! [She suddenly clasps and kisses him. He does not return the kiss, but remains rigid in her arms, so that she draws away and looks at him] It's hurt you awfully, I know.
DANCY. Look here, Mabel! Apart from that muck—this is a ghastly tame-cat sort of life. Let's cut it and get out to Nairobi. I can scare up the money for that.
MABEL. [Aghast] But how can we? Everybody would say—
RONNY. Let them! We shan't be here.
MABEL. I couldn't bear people to think—
DANCY. I don't care a damn what people think monkeys and cats. I never could stand their rotten menagerie. Besides, what does it matter how I act; if I bring an action and get damages—if I pound him to a jelly— it's all no good! I can't prove it. There'll be plenty of people unconvinced.
MABEL. But they'll find the real thief.
DANCY. [With a queer little smile] Will staying here help them to do that?
MABEL. [In a sort of agony] Oh! I couldn't—it looks like running away. We must stay and fight it!
DANCY. Suppose I didn't get a verdict—you never can tell.
MABEL. But you must—I was there all the time, with the door open.
DANCY. Was it?
MABEL. I'm almost sure.
DANCY. Yes. But you're my wife.
MABEL. [Bewildered] Ronny, I don't understand—suppose I'd been accused of stealing pearls!
DANCY. [Wincing] I can't.
MABEL. But I might—just as easily. What would you think of me if I ran away from it?
DANCY. I see. [A pause] All right! You shall have a run for your money. I'll go and see old Twisden.
MABEL. Let me come! [DANCY shakes his head] Why not? I can't be happy a moment unless I'm fighting this.
DANCY puts out his hand suddenly and grips hers.
DANCY. You are a little brick!
MABEL. [Pressing his hand to her breast and looking into his face] Do you know what Margaret called you?
RONNY. No.
MABEL. A desperate character.
DANCY. Ha! I'm not a tame cat, any more than she.
The bell rings. MABEL goes out to the door and her voice is heard saying coldly.
MABEL. Will you wait a minute, please? Returning. It's De Levis—to see you. [In a low voice] Let me see him alone first. Just for a minute! Do!
DANCY. [After a moment's silence] Go ahead! He goes out into the bedroom.
MABEL. [Going to the door, Right] Come in.
DE LEVIS comes in, and stands embarrassed.
Yes?
DE LEVIS. [With a slight bow] Your husband, Mrs Dancy?
MABEL. He is in. Why do you want to see him?
DE LEVIS. He came round to my rooms just now, when I was out. He threatened me yesterday. I don't choose him to suppose I'm afraid of him.
MABEL. [With a great and manifest effort at self-control] Mr De Levis, you are robbing my husband of his good name.
DE LEVIS. [Sincerely] I admire your trustfulness, Mrs Dancy.
MABEL. [Staring at him] How can you do it? What do you want? What's your motive? You can't possibly believe that my husband is a thief!
DE LEVIS. Unfortunately.
MABEL. How dare you? How dare you? Don't you know that I was in our bedroom all the time with the door open? Do you accuse me too?
DE LEVIS. No, Mrs Dancy.
MABEL. But you do. I must have seen, I must have heard.
DE LEVIS. A wife's memory is not very good when her husband is in danger.
MABEL. In other words, I'm lying.
DE LEVIS. No. Your wish is mother to your thought, that's all.
MABEL. [After staring again with a sort of horror, turns to get control of herself. Then turning back to him] Mr De Levis, I appeal to you as a gentleman to behave to us as you would we should behave to you. Withdraw this wicked charge, and write an apology that Ronald can show.
DE LEVIS. Mrs Dancy, I am not a gentleman, I am only a—damned Jew. Yesterday I might possibly have withdrawn to spare you. But when my race is insulted I have nothing to say to your husband, but as he wishes to see me, I've come. Please let him know.
MABEL. [Regarding him again with that look of horror—slowly] I think what you are doing is too horrible for words.
DE LEVIS gives her a slight bow, and as he does so DANCY comes quickly in, Left. The two men stand with the length of the sofa between them. MABEL, behind the sofa, turns her eyes on her husband, who has a paper in his right hand.
DE LEVIS. You came to see me.
DANCY. Yes. I want you to sign this.
DE LEVIS. I will sign nothing.
DANCY. Let me read it: "I apologise to Captain Dancy for the reckless and monstrous charge I made against him, and I retract every word of it."
DE LEVIS. Not much!
DANCY. You will sign.
DE LEVIS. I tell you this is useless. I will sign nothing. The charge is true; you wouldn't be playing this game if it weren't. I'm going. You'll hardly try violence in the presence of your wife; and if you try it anywhere else—look out for yourself.
DANCY. Mabel, I want to speak to him alone.
MABEL. No, no!
DE LEVIS. Quite right, Mrs Dancy. Black and tan swashbuckling will only make things worse for him.
DANCY. So you shelter behind a woman, do you, you skulking cur!
DE LEVIS takes a step, with fists clenched and eyes blazing. DANCY, too, stands ready to spring—the moment is cut short by MABEL going quickly to her husband.
MABEL. Don't, Ronny. It's undignified! He isn't worth it.
DANCY suddenly tears the paper in two, and flings it into the fire.
DANCY. Get out of here, you swine!
DE LEVIS stands a moment irresolute, then, turning to the door, he opens it, stands again for a moment with a smile on his face, then goes. MABEL crosses swiftly to the door, and shuts it as the outer door closes. Then she stands quite still, looking at her husband —her face expressing a sort of startled suspense.
DANCY. [Turning and looking at her] Well! Do you agree with him?
MABEL. What do you mean?
DANCY. That I wouldn't be playing this game unless—
MABEL. Don't! You hurt me!
DANCY. Yes. You don't know much of me, Mabel.
MABEL. Ronny!
DANCY. What did you say to that swine?
MABEL. [Her face averted] That he was robbing us. [Turning to him suddenly] Ronny—you—didn't? I'd rather know.
DANCY. Ha! I thought that was coming.
MABEL. [Covering her face] Oh! How horrible of me—how horrible!
DANCY. Not at all. The thing looks bad.
MABEL. [Dropping her hands] If I can't believe in you, who can? [Going to him, throwing her arms round him, and looking up into his face] Ronny! If all the world—I'd believe in you. You know I would.
DANCY. That's all right, Mabs! That's all right! [His face, above her head, is contorted for a moment, then hardens into a mask] Well, what shall we do? Let's go to that lawyer—let's go—
MABEL. Oh! at once!
DANCY. All right. Get your hat on.
MABEL passes him, and goes into the bedroom, Left. DANCY, left alone, stands quite still, staring before him. With a sudden shrug of his shoulders he moves quickly to his hat and takes it up just as MABEL returns, ready to go out. He opens the door; and crossing him, she stops in the doorway, looking up with a clear and trustful gaze as
The CURTAIN falls.
ACT III
SCENE I
Three months later. Old MR JACOB TWISDEN's Room, at the offices of Twisden & Graviter, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, is spacious, with two large windows at back, a fine old fireplace, Right, a door below it, and two doors, Left. Between the windows is a large table sideways to the window wall, with a chair in the middle on the right-hand side, a chair against the wall, and a client's chair on the left-hand side.
GRAVITER, TWISDEN'S much younger partner, is standing in front of the right-hand window looking out on to the Fields, where the lamps are being lighted, and a taxi's engine is running down below. He turns his sanguine, shrewd face from the window towards a grandfather dock, between the doors, Left, which is striking "four." The door, Left Forward, is opened.
YOUNG CLERK. [Entering] A Mr Gilman, sir, to see Mr Twisden.
GRAVITER. By appointment?
YOUNG CLERK. No, sir. But important, he says.
GRAVITER. I'll see him.
The CLERK goes. GRAVITER sits right of table. The CLERK returns, ushering in an oldish MAN, who looks what he is, the proprietor of a large modern grocery store. He wears a dark overcoat and carries a pot hat. His gingery-grey moustache and mutton-chop whiskers give him the expression of a cat.
GRAVITER. [Sizing up his social standing] Mr Gilman? Yes.
GILMAN. [Doubtfully] Mr Jacob Twisden?
GRAVITER. [Smiling] His partner. Graviter my name is.
GILMAN. Mr Twisden's not in, then?
GRAVITER. No. He's at the Courts. They're just up; he should be in directly. But he'll be busy.
GILMAN. Old Mr Jacob Twisden—I've heard of him.
GRAVITER. Most people have.
GILMAN. It's this Dancy-De Levis case that's keepin' him at the Courts, I suppose?
GRAVITER nods.
Won't be finished for a day or two?
GRAVITER shakes his head. No.
Astonishin' the interest taken in it.
GRAVITER. As you say.
GILMAN. The Smart Set, eh? This Captain Dancy got the D.S.O., didn't he?
GRAVITER nods.
Sad to have a thing like that said about you. I thought he gave his evidence well; and his wife too. Looks as if this De Levis had got some private spite. Searchy la femme, I said to Mrs Gilman only this morning, before I—
GRAVITER. By the way, sir, what is your business?
GILMAN. Well, my business here—No, if you'll excuse me, I'd rather wait and see old Mr Jacob Twisden. It's delicate, and I'd like his experience.
GRAVITER. [With a shrug] Very well; then, perhaps, you'll go in there. [He moves towards the door, Left Back].
GILMAN. Thank you. [Following] You see, I've never been mixed up with the law—
GRAVITER. [Opening the door] No?
GILMAN. And I don't want to begin. When you do, you don't know where you'll stop, do you? You see, I've only come from a sense of duty; and —other reasons.
GRAVITER. Not uncommon.
GILMAN. [Producing card] This is my card. Gilman's—several branches, but this is the 'ead.
GRAVITER. [Scrutinising card] Exactly.
GILMAN. Grocery—I daresay you know me; or your wife does. They say old Mr Jacob Twisden refused a knighthood. If it's not a rude question, why was that?
GRAVITER. Ask him, sir; ask him.
GILMAN. I said to my wife at the time, "He's holdin' out for a baronetcy."
GRAVITER Closes the door with an exasperated smile.
YOUNG CLERK. [Opening the door, Left Forward] Mr WINSOR, sir, and Miss Orme.
They enter, and the CLERK withdraws.
GRAVITER. How d'you do, Miss Orme? How do you do, WINSOR?
WINSOR. Twisden not back, Graviter?
GRAVITER. Not yet.
WINSOR. Well, they've got through De Levis's witnesses. Sir Frederick was at the very top of his form. It's looking quite well. But I hear they've just subpoenaed Canynge after all. His evidence is to be taken to-morrow.
GRAVITER. Oho!
WINSOR. I said Dancy ought to have called him.
GRAVITER. We considered it. Sir Frederic decided that he could use him better in cross-examination.
WINSOR. Well! I don't know that. Can I go and see him before he gives evidence to-morrow?
GRAVITER. I should like to hear Mr Jacob on that, WINSOR. He'll be in directly.
WINSOR. They had Kentman, and Goole, the Inspector, the other bobby, my footman, Dancy's banker, and his tailor.
GRAVITER. Did we shake Kentman or Goole?
WINSOR. Very little. Oh! by the way, the numbers of those two notes were given, and I see they're published in the evening papers. I suppose the police wanted that. I tell you what I find, Graviter—a general feeling that there's something behind it all that doesn't come out.
GRAVITER. The public wants it's money's worth—always does in these Society cases; they brew so long beforehand, you see.
WINSOR. They're looking for something lurid.
MARGARET. When I was in the bog, I thought they were looking for me. [Taking out her cigarette case] I suppose I mustn't smoke, Mr Graviter?
GRAVITER. Do!
MARGARET. Won't Mr Jacob have a fit?
GRAVITER. Yes, but not till you've gone.
MARGARET. Just a whiff. [She lights a cigarette].
WINSOR. [Suddenly] It's becoming a sort of Dreyfus case—people taking sides quite outside the evidence.
MARGARET. There are more of the chosen in Court every day. Mr Graviter, have you noticed the two on the jury?
GRAVITER. [With a smile] No; I can't say—
MARGARET. Oh! but quite distinctly. Don't you think they ought to have been challenged?
GRAVITER. De Levis might have challenged the other ten, Miss Orme.
MARGARET. Dear me, now! I never thought of that.
As she speaks, the door Left Forward is opened and old MR JACOB TWISDEN comes in. He is tallish and narrow, sixty-eight years old, grey, with narrow little whiskers curling round his narrow ears, and a narrow bow-ribbon curling round his collar. He wears a long, narrow-tailed coat, and strapped trousers on his narrow legs. His nose and face are narrow, shrewd, and kindly. He has a way of narrowing his shrewd and kindly eyes. His nose is seen to twitch and snig.
TWISDEN. Ah! How are you, Charles? How do you do, my dear?
MARGARET. Dear Mr Jacob, I'm smoking. Isn't it disgusting? But they don't allow it in Court, you know. Such a pity! The Judge might have a hookah. Oh! wouldn't he look sweet—the darling!
TWISDEN. [With a little, old-fashioned bow] It does not become everybody as it becomes you, Margaret.
MARGARET. Mr Jacob, how charming! [With a slight grimace she puts out her cigarette].
GRAVITER. Man called Gilman waiting in there to see you specially.
TWISDEN. Directly. Turn up the light, would you, Graviter?
GRAVITER. [Turning up the light] Excuse me.
He goes.
WINSOR. Look here, Mr Twisden—
TWISDEN. Sit down; sit down, my dear.
And he himself sits behind the table, as a cup of tea is brought in to him by the YOUNG CLERK, with two Marie biscuits in the saucer.
Will you have some, Margaret?
MARGARET. No, dear Mr Jacob.
TWISDEN. Charles?
WINSOR. No, thanks. The door is closed.
TWISDEN. [Dipping a biscuit in the tea] Now, then?
WINSOR. The General knows something which on the face of it looks rather queer. Now that he's going to be called, oughtn't Dancy to be told of it, so that he may be ready with his explanation, in case it comes out?
TWISDEN. [Pouring some tea into the saucer] Without knowing, I can't tell you.
WINSOR and MARGARET exchange looks, and TWISDEN drinks from the saucer. MARGARET. Tell him, Charles.
WINSOR. Well! It rained that evening at Meldon. The General happened to put his hand on Dancy's shoulder, and it was damp.
TWISDEN puts the saucer down and replaces the cup in it. They both look intently at him.
TWISDEN. I take it that General Canynge won't say anything he's not compelled to say.
MARGARET. No, of course; but, Mr Jacob, they might ask; they know it rained. And he is such a George Washington.
TWISDEN. [Toying with a pair of tortoise-shell glasses] They didn't ask either of you. Still-no harm in your telling Dancy.
WINSOR. I'd rather you did it, Margaret.
MARGARET. I daresay. [She mechanically takes out her cigarette-case, catches the lift of TWISDEN'S eyebrows, and puts it back].
WINSOR. Well, we'll go together. I don't want Mrs Dancy to hear.
MARGARET. Do tell me, Mr Jacob; is he going to win?
TWISDEN. I think so, Margaret; I think so.
MARGARET. It'll be too—frightful if he doesn't get a verdict, after all this. But I don't know what we shall do when it's over. I've been sitting in that Court all these three days, watching, and it's made me feel there's nothing we like better than seeing people skinned. Well, bye-bye, bless you!
TWISDEN rises and pats her hand.
WINSOR. Half a second, Margaret. Wait for me. She nods and goes out. Mr Twisden, what do you really think?
TWISDEN. I am Dancy's lawyer, my dear Charles, as well as yours.
WINSOR. Well, can I go and see Canynge?
TWISDEN. Better not.
WINSOR. If they get that out of him, and recall me, am I to say he told me of it at the time?
TWISDEN. You didn't feel the coat yourself? And Dancy wasn't present? Then what Canynge told you is not evidence—he'll stop your being asked.
WINSOR. Thank goodness. Good-bye!
WINSOR goes out.
TWISDEN, behind his table, motionless, taps his teeth with the eyeglasses in his narrow, well-kept hand. After a long shake of his head and a shrug of his rather high shoulders he snips, goes to the window and opens it. Then crossing to the door, Left Back, he throws it open and says
TWISDEN. At your service, sir.
GILMAN comes forth, nursing his pot hat. Be seated.
TWISDEN closes the window behind him, and takes his seat.
GILMAN. [Taking the client's chair, to the left of the table] Mr Twisden, I believe? My name's Gilman, head of Gilman's Department Stores. You have my card.
TWISDEN. [Looking at the card] Yes. What can we do for you?
GILMAN. Well, I've come to you from a sense of duty, sir, and also a feelin' of embarrassment. [He takes from his breast pocket an evening paper] You see, I've been followin' this Dancy case—it's a good deal talked of in Putney—and I read this at half-past two this afternoon. To be precise, at 2.25. [He rises and hands the paper to TWISDEN, and with a thick gloved forefinger indicates a passage] When I read these numbers, I 'appened to remember givin' change for a fifty-pound note—don't often 'ave one in, you know—so I went to the cash-box out of curiosity, to see that I 'adn't got it. Well, I 'ad; and here it is. [He draws out from his breast pocket and lays before TWISDEN a fifty-pound banknote] It was brought in to change by a customer of mine three days ago, and he got value for it. Now, that's a stolen note, it seems, and you'd like to know what I did. Mind you, that customer of mine I've known 'im—well— eight or nine years; an Italian he is—wine salesman, and so far's I know, a respectable man-foreign-lookin', but nothin' more. Now, this was at 'alf-past two, and I was at my head branch at Putney, where I live. I want you to mark the time, so as you'll see I 'aven't wasted a minute. I took a cab and I drove straight to my customer's private residence in Putney, where he lives with his daughter—Ricardos his name is, Paolio Ricardos. They tell me there that he's at his business shop in the City. So off I go in the cab again, and there I find him. Well, sir, I showed this paper to him and I produced the note. "Here," I said, "you brought this to me and you got value for it." Well, that man was taken aback. If I'm a judge, Mr Twisden, he was taken aback, not to speak in a guilty way, but he was, as you might say, flummoxed. "Now," I said to him, "where did you get it—that's the point?" He took his time to answer, and then he said: "Well, Mr Gilman," he said, "you know me; I am an honourable man. I can't tell you offhand, but I am above the board." He's foreign, you know, in his expressions. "Yes," I said, "that's all very well," I said, "but here I've got a stolen note and you've got the value for it. Now I tell you," I said, "what I'm going to do; I'm going straight with this note to Mr Jacob Twisden, who's got this Dancy-De Levis case in 'and. He's a well-known Society lawyer," I said, "of great experience." "Oh!" he said, "that is what you do?"—funny the way he speaks! "Then I come with you!"—And I've got him in the cab below. I want to tell you everything before he comes up. On the way I tried to get something out of him, but I couldn't—I could not. "This is very awkward," I said at last. "It is, Mr Gilman," was his reply; and he began to talk about his Sicilian claret—a very good wine, mind you; but under the circumstances it seemed to me uncalled for. Have I made it clear to you?
TWISDEN. [Who has listened with extreme attention] Perfectly, Mr Gilman. I'll send down for him. [He touches a hand-bell].
The YOUNG CLERK appears at the door, Left Forward.
A gentleman in a taxi-waiting. Ask him to be so good as to step up. Oh! and send Mr Graviter here again.
The YOUNG CLERK goes out.
GILMAN. As I told you, sir, I've been followin' this case. It's what you might call piquant. And I should be very glad if it came about that this helped Captain Dancy. I take an interest, because, to tell you the truth, [Confidentially] I don't like—well, not to put too fine a point upon it 'Ebrews. They work harder; they're more sober; they're honest; and they're everywhere. I've nothing against them, but the fact is—they get on so.
TWISDEN. [Cocking an eye] A thorn in the flesh, Mr Gilman.
GILMAN. Well, I prefer my own countrymen, and that's the truth of it.
As he speaks, GRAVITER comes in by the door Left Forward.
TWISDEN. [Pointing to the newspaper and the note] Mr Gilman has brought this, of which he is holder for value. His customer, who changed it three days ago, is coming up.
GRAVITER. The fifty-pounder. I see. [His face is long and reflective].
YOUNG CLERK. [Entering] Mr Ricardos, sir.
He goes out. RICARDOS is a personable, Italian-looking man in a frock coat, with a dark moustachioed face and dark hair a little grizzled. He looks anxious, and bows.
TWISDEN. Mr Ricardos? My name is Jacob Twisden. My partner. [Holding up a finger, as RICARDOS would speak] Mr Gilman has told us about this note. You took it to him, he says, three days ago; that is, on Monday, and received cash for it?
RICARDOS. Yes, sare.
TWISDEN. You were not aware that it was stolen?
RICARDOS. [With his hand to his breast] Oh! no, sare.
TWISDEN. You received it from—?
RICARDOS. A minute, sare; I would weesh to explain—[With an expressive shrug] in private.
TWISDEN. [Nodding] Mr Gilman, your conduct has been most prompt. You may safely leave the matter in our hands, now. Kindly let us retain this note; and ask for my cashier as you go out and give him [He writes] this. He will reimburse you. We will take any necessary steps ourselves.
GILMAN. [In slight surprise, with modest pride] Well, sir, I'm in your 'ands. I must be guided by you, with your experience. I'm glad you think I acted rightly.
TWISDEN. Very rightly, Mr Gilman—very rightly. [Rising] Good afternoon!
GILMAN. Good afternoon, sir. Good afternoon, gentlemen! [To TWISDEN] I'm sure I'm very 'appy to have made your acquaintance, sir. It's a well-known name.
TWISDEN. Thank you.
GILMAN retreats, glances at RICARDOS, and turns again.
GILMAN. I suppose there's nothing else I ought to do, in the interests of the law? I'm a careful man.
TWISDEN. If there is, Mr Gilman, we will let you know. We have your address. You may make your mind easy; but don't speak of this. It might interfere with Justice.
GILMAN. Oh! I shouldn't dream of it. I've no wish to be mixed up in anything conspicuous. That's not my principle at all. Good-day, gentlemen.
He goes.
TWISDEN. [Seating himself] Now, sir, will you sit down.
But RICARDOS does not sit; he stands looking uneasily across the table at GRAVITER.
You may speak out.
RICARDOS. Well, Mr Tweesden and sare, this matter is very serious for me, and very delicate—it concairns my honour. I am in a great difficulty.
TWISDEN. When in difficulty—complete frankness, sir.
RICARDOS. It is a family matter, sare, I—
TWISDEN. Let me be frank with you. [Telling his points off on his fingers] We have your admission that you changed this stopped note for value. It will be our duty to inform the Bank of England that it has been traced to you. You will have to account to them for your possession of it. I suggest to you that it will be far better to account frankly to us.