The Title, Arnold Bennett [best motivational books of all time txt] 📗

And so, although you prefer a country life, the lure of London has been too strong for you in the end.

STRAIGHT. I came to town on business.

CULVER. Ah!

STRAIGHT. The fact is, business of the utmost importance. Perhaps I may be able to interest you in it.

CULVER. Now we're getting hotter.

STRAIGHT. Hotter?

CULVER. Go on, go on, Mr. Straight.

STRAIGHT. To tell you the truth--

CULVER. Always a wise thing to do.

STRAIGHT. One of my reasons for accepting your son's kind invitation was that I thought that conceivably you might be willing to help in a great patriotic scheme of mine. Naturally you show surprise.

CULVER. Do I? Then I'm expressing myself badly. I'm not in the least surprised. It is the contrary that would have surprised me.

STRAIGHT. We may possibly discuss it later.

CULVER. Later? Why later? Why not at once? I'm full of curiosity. I hate to let the grass grow under my feet.

STRAIGHT (looking at the floor). Grass? (With a faint mechanical laugh.) Ah yes, I see. Figure of speech. Well, I'm starting a little limited liability syndicate.

CULVER. Precisely what I thought. Yes?

STRAIGHT. The End-the-war Syndicate.

JOHN (approaching). But surely you aren't one of those pacifists, Mr. Straight! You've always preached fighting it out to a finish.

STRAIGHT. The object of my syndicate is certainly to fight to a finish, but to finish in about a week--by means of my little syndicate.

CULVER. Splendid! But there is one draw-back. New capital issues are forbidden under the Defence of the Realm Act.

STRAIGHT. Even when the object is to win the war?

CULVER. My dear sir, the Treasury would never permit such a thing.

STRAIGHT. Well, we needn't have a limited company. Perhaps after all it would be better to keep it quite private.

CULVER. Oh! It would. And what is the central idea of this charming syndicate?

STRAIGHT. The idea is--(looking round cautiously)--a new explosive.

CULVER. Again, precisely what I thought. Your own invention?

STRAIGHT. No. A friend of mine. It truly is the most marvellous explosive.

CULVER. I suppose it bangs everything.

STRAIGHT (simply). Oh, it does. A development of trinitrotoluol on new lines. I needn't say that my interest in the affair is purely patriotic.

CULVER. Of course. Of course.

STRAIGHT. I can easily get all the capital I need.

CULVER. Of course. Of course.

STRAIGHT. But I'm not in close touch with the official world, and in a matter of this kind official influence is absolutely essential to success. Now you are in touch with the official world. I shouldn't ask you to subscribe, though if you cared to do so there would be no objection. And I may say that the syndicate can't help making a tremendous lot of money. When I tell you that the new explosive is forty-seven times as powerful as trinitrotoluol itself--

CULVER. When you tell me that, Mr. Straight, I can only murmur the hope that you haven't got any of it in your pocket.

STRAIGHT (simply). Oh, no! Please don't be alarmed. But you see the immense possibilities. You see how this explosive would end the war practically at once. And you'll understand, of course, that although my articles in The Echo have apparently caused considerable commotion in London, and given me a position which I am glad to be able to use for the service of the Empire, my interest in mere journalism as such has almost ceased since my friend asked me to be secretary and treasurer of the syndicate.

CULVER. And so you're the secretary and treasurer?

STRAIGHT. Yes. We don't want to have subscribers of less than L100 each. If you cared to look into the matter--I know you're very busy, but a mere glance--

CULVER. Just so--a mere glance.

Enter Tranto excitedly.

HILDEGARDE (nearer the door than the rest). Again?

TRANTO (rather loudly and not specially to Hildegarde). Terrible news! I've just heard and I rushed back to tell you. Sampson Straight has died very suddenly in Cornwall. Bright's disease. He breathed his last in his own potato patch. (Aside to Hildegarde, in response to a gesture from her) I'm awfully sorry. The poor fellow simply had to expire.

MRS. CULVER (to Tranto). Now this just shows how the most absurd rumours do get abroad! Here is Mr. Sampson Straight. I'm so glad you've come, because you've always wanted to meet him in the flesh.

TRANTO (to Straight). Are you Sampson Straight?

STRAIGHT. I am, sir.

TRANTO. The Sampson Straight who lives in Cornwall?

STRAIGHT. Just so.

TRANTO. Impossible!

STRAIGHT. Pardon me. One moment. I was told there was a danger of my being inconvenienced in London by one of these military raids for rounding up slackers, and as I happen to have a rather youthful appearance, I took the precaution of bringing with me my birth-certificate and registration card. (Produces them.)

TRANTO (glancing at the card). And it's really you who write those brilliant articles in The Echo?

STRAIGHT. 'Brilliant'--I won't say. But I do write them.

TRANTO. Well, this is the most remarkable instance of survival after death that I ever came across.

STRAIGHT. I beg your pardon.

TRANTO. You're dead, my fine fellow. Your place isn't here. You ought to be in the next world. You're a humbug.

STRAIGHT (to Mrs. Culver). I'm not quite sure that I understand. Will you kindly introduce me?

MRS. CULVER. I'm so sorry. This is Mr. Tranto, proprietor and editor of The Echo--(apologetically, with an uneasy smile) a great humourist.

STRAIGHT (thunderstruck; aside). Well, I'm damned! (His whole demeanour changes. Nevertheless, while tacitly admitting that he is found out, he at once resumes his mild calmness. To Culver.) I've just remembered an appointment of vital importance. I'm afraid our little talk about the syndicate must be adjourned.

CULVER. I feared you might have to hurry away.

(Straight bows as a preliminary to departure.)

(John, deeply humiliated, averts his glance from everybody.)

TRANTO. Here! But you can't go off like this.

STRAIGHT. Why? Have you anything against me?

TRANTO. Nothing (casually) except that you're an impostor.

STRAIGHT. I fail to see it.

TRANTO. But haven't you just said that you write those articles in my paper?

STRAIGHT. Oh! That! Well, of course, if I'd known who you were I shouldn't have dreamed of saying any such thing. I always try to suit my talk to my company.

TRANTO. This time you didn't quite bring it off.

STRAIGHT. Perhaps I owe you some slight explanation (looking round blandly).

CULVER. Do you really think so?

STRAIGHT. The explanation is simplicity itself. (A sudden impulse.) Nothing but that. Put yourselves in my place. I come to London. I hear a vast deal of chatter about some articles in a paper called The Echo by some one calling himself 'Sampson Straight.' I also hear that nobody in London knows who Sampson Straight is. As I happen to be Sampson Straight, and as I have need of all possible personal prestige for the success of my purely patriotic mission, it occurs to me--in a flash!--to assert that I am the author of the famous articles.... Well, what more natural?

CULVER. What indeed?

STRAIGHT (to Tranto). And may I say that I'm the only genuine Sampson Straight in the United Kingdom, and that in my opinion it was a gross impertinence on the part of your contributor to steal my name? Why did you let him do it?

TRANTO (beginning reflectively). Now I hit on that name--not my contributor. It was when I was down in Cornwall. I caught sight of it in an old yellow newspaper in an old yellow hotel, and it struck me at once what a fine signature it would make at the bottom of a slashing article. By the way, have you ever been in the dock?

STRAIGHT. Dock?

TRANTO. I only ask because I seem to remember I saw your splendid name in a report of the local Assizes.

STRAIGHT. Assizes?

TRANTO. A, double s (pause) i-z-e-s.

STRAIGHT. I can afford to be perfectly open. I was--at one period of my career--in prison, but for a quite respectable crime. Bigamy--with extenuating circumstances.

MRS. CULVER (greatly upset). Dear, dear!

STRAIGHT. It might happen to any man.

CULVER (looking at Mrs. Culver). So it might.

STRAIGHT. Do you wish to detain me?

TRANTO. I simply haven't the heart to do it.

STRAIGHT. Then, ladies and gentlemen, I'll say good morning.

HILDEGARDE (stopping Straight near the door as he departs with more bows). Good-bye! (She holds out her hand with a smile!) And good luck!

STRAIGHT (taking her hand). Madam, I thank you. You evidently appreciate the fact that when one lives solely on one's wits, little mishaps are bound to occur from time to time, and that too much importance ought not to be attached to them. This is only my third slip, and I am fifty-five.

(Exit, back.)

MRS. CULVER (to Hildegarde, gently surprised). Darling, surely you need not have been quite so effusive!

HILDEGARDE. You see, I thought I owed him something, (with meaning and effect) as it was I who stole his name.

MRS. CULVER (utterly puzzled for a moment; then, when she understands, rushing to Hildegarde and embracing her). Oh! My wonderful girl!

JOHN (feebly and still humiliated). Stay me with flagons!

HILDEGARDE (to her mother). How nice you are about it, mamma!

MRS. CULVER. But I'm very proud, my pet. Of course I think you might have let me into the secret--

CULVER. None of us were let into the secret, Hermione--I mean until comparatively recent times. It was a matter between Hilda's conscience and her editor.

MRS. CULVER. Oh! I'm not complaining. I'm so relieved she didn't write those dreadful cookery articles.

HILDEGARDE. But do you mean to say you aren't frightfully shocked by my advanced politics, mamma?

MRS. CULVER. My child, how naive you are, after all! A woman is never shocked, though of course at times it may suit her to pretend to be. Only men are capable of being shocked. As for your advanced politics, as you call them, can't you see that it doesn't matter what you write so long as you are admired by the best people. It isn't views that are disreputable, it's the persons that hold them.

CULVER. I hope that's why you so gracefully gave way over the baronetcy, my dear.

MRS. CULVER (continuing to Hildegarde). There's just one thing I should venture to suggest, and that is, that you cease at once to be a typist and employ one yourself instead. It's most essential that you should live up to your position. Oh! I'm very proud of you.

HILDEGARDE. I don't quite know what my position is. According to the latest news I'm dead. (Challengingly to Tranto.) Mr. Tranto, you're keeping rather quiet, nearly as quiet as John (John changes his seat), but don't you think you owe me some explanation? Not more than a quarter of an hour ago in this very room it was distinctly agreed between us that you would not kill Sampson Straight, and now you rush back in a sort of homicidal mania.

MRS. CULVER. Oh! I'd no idea Mr. Tranto had called already this morning!

HILDEGARDE. Yes. I told him all about everything, and we came to a definite understanding.

MRS. CULVER. Oh!

TRANTO. I'm