Loyalties, John Galsworthy [superbooks4u .txt] 📗

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 Yesterday I might possibly have withdrawn to spare you.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