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The Next Morning.

[The scene is the same as in the Second Act, the drawing-room at Basil's house in Putney. Basil is sitting at the table, with his head in his hands. He looks tired and worn; his face is very white, and there are great black lines under his eyes. His hair is dishevelled. On the table lies a revolver.

[A knock at the door.

Basil.

[Without looking up.] Come in.

[Fanny enters.]

Fanny.

[Subdued and pale.] I came to see if you wanted anything, sir.

Basil.

[Looking up at her slowly, his voice is dull and hoarse.] No.

Fanny.

Shall I open the windows, Sir? It's a beautiful morning.

Basil.

No, I'm cold. Make up the fire.

Fanny.

Wouldn't you like a cup of tea? You ought to 'ave something after not going to bed all night.

Basil.

I don't want anything.... Don't worry, there's a good woman.

[Fanny puts coals on the fire, while BASIL listlessly watches her.

Basil.

How long is it since you sent the telegrams?

Fanny.

I took them the moment the office was opened.

Basil.

What's the time?

Fanny.

Well, sir, it must be 'alf-past nine by now.

Basil.

Good Heavens, how slowly the hours go. I thought the night would never end.... Oh, God, what shall I do?

Fanny.

I'll make you a strong cup of tea. If you don't 'ave something to pull you together—I don't know what'll 'appen to you.

Basil.

Yes, make it quickly, I'm thirsty.... And I'm so cold.

[A ring at the front door is heard.

Basil.

[Jumping up.] There's some one at the door, Fanny. Hurry up.

[She goes out, and he follows her to the door of the room.

Basil.

Fanny, don't let any one up beside Mr. Halliwell. Say I can see no one. [He waits for a moment, anxiously.] Is that you, John?

John.

[Outside.] Yes.

Basil.

[To himself.] Thank God!

[John comes in.

Basil.

I thought you were never coming. I begged you to come at once.

John.

I started immediately I got your wire.

Basil.

It seems hours since the girl went to the post-office.

John.

What's the matter?

Basil.

[Hoarsely.] Don't you know? I thought I had said it in my telegram.

John.

You simply wired that you were in great trouble.

Basil.

I suppose I thought you'd see it in the papers.

John.

What on earth d'you mean? I've not seen a paper. Where's your wife?

Basil.

[After a pause, almost in a whisper.] She's dead.

John.

[Thunderstruck.] Good God!

Basil.

[Impatiently.] Don't look at me like that. Isn't it plain enough? Don't you understand?

John.

But she was all right yesterday.

Basil.

[Dully.] Yes. She was all right yesterday.

John.

For goodness sake tell me what you mean, Basil.

Basil.

She's dead.... And she was all right yesterday.

[John does not understand. He is greatly distressed, and does not know what to say.

Basil.

I killed her—as surely as if I'd strangled her with my own hands.

John.

What d'you mean? She's not really dead!

Basil.

[In agony.] She threw herself into the river last night.

John.

How awful!

Basil.

Haven't you got something more to say than how awful? I feel as if I were going mad.

John.

But I can't understand! Why did she do it?

Basil.

Oh—yesterday we had an awful row ... before you came.

John.

I know.

Basil.

Then she followed me to ... to your sister-in-law's. And she came up and made another scene. Then I lost my head. I was so furious, I don't know what I said. I was mad. I told her I'd have nothing more to do with her.... Oh, I can't bear it, I can't bear it.

[He breaks down and hides his face in his hands, sobbing.

John.

Come, Basil—pull yourself together a bit.

Basil.

[Looking up despairingly.] I can hear her voice now. I can see the look of her eyes. She asked me to give her another chance, and I refused. It was so pitiful to hear the way she appealed to me, only I was mad, and I couldn't feel it.

[Fanny comes in with the cup of tea, which Basil silently takes and drinks.

Fanny.

[To John.] He ain't slept a wink all night, sir.... No more 'ave I, for the matter of that.

[John nods, but does not answer; and Fanny, wiping her eyes with her apron, leaves the room.

Basil.

Oh, I'd give everything not to have said what I did. I'd always held myself in before, but yesterday—I couldn't.

John.

Well?

Basil.

I didn't get back here till nearly ten, and the maid told me Jenny had just gone out. I thought she'd gone back to her mother's.

John.

Yes?

Basil.

And soon after a constable came up and asked me to go down to the river. He said there'd been an accident.... She was dead. A man had seen her walk along the tow-path and throw herself in.

John.

Where is she now?

Basil.

[Pointing to one of the doors.] In there.

John.

Will you take me in?

Basil.

Go in alone, John. I daren't, I'm afraid to look at her. I can't bear the look on her face.... I killed her—as surely as if I'd strangled her with my own hands. I've been looking at the door all night, and once I thought I heard a sound. I thought she was coming to reproach me for killing her.

[John goes to the door, and as he opens it, Basil averts his head. When John shuts the door after him, he looks at it with staring, frightened eyes, half mad with agony. He tries to contain himself. After a while John comes back, very quietly.

Basil.

[Whispering.] What does she look like?

John.

There's nothing to be afraid of, Basil. She might be sleeping.

Basil.

[Clenching his hands.] But the ghastly pallor....

John.

[Gravely.] She's happier than she would ever have been if she'd lived.

[Basil sighs deeply.

John.

[Seeing the revolver.] What's this for?

Basil.

[With a groan of self-contempt.] I tried to kill myself in the night.

John.

H'm!

[He takes the cartridges out and puts the revolver in his pocket.

Basil.

[Bitterly.] Oh, don't be afraid, I haven't got the pluck.... I was afraid to go on living. I thought if I killed myself it would be a reparation for her death. I went down to the river, and I walked along the tow-path to the same spot—but I couldn't do it. The water looked so black and cold and pitiless. And yet she did it so easily. She just walked along and threw herself in. [A pause.] Then I came back, and I thought I'd shoot myself.

John.

D'you think that would have done any one much good?

Basil.

I despised myself. I felt I hadn't the right to live, and I thought it would be easier just to pull a trigger.... People say it's cowardly to destroy oneself, they don't know what courage it wants. I couldn't face the pain—and then, I don't know what's on the other side. After all, it may be true that there's a cruel, avenging God, who will punish us to all eternity if we break His unknown laws.

John.

I'm very glad you sent for me. You had better come back to London, and stay with me for the present.

Basil.

And d'you know what happened in the night? I couldn't go to bed. I felt I could never sleep again—and then, presently, I dozed off quite quietly in my chair. And I slept as comfortably—as if Jenny weren't lying in there, cold and dead. And the maid pities me because she thinks I passed as sleepless a night as she did.

[A sound of voices is heard outside, in altercation. Fanny comes in.

Fanny.

Please, sir, Mr. James.

Basil.

[Angrily.] I won't see him.

Fanny.

He won't go away, I told 'im you was too ill to see anybody.

Basil.

I won't see him. I knew he'd be round, curse him!

John.

After all, I suppose he has a certain right to come here—under the circumstances. Hadn't you better see what he wants?

Basil.

Oh, he'll make a scene. I shall knock him down. I've suffered too much through him already.

John.

Let me see him. You don't want him to make a fuss at the inquest.

Basil.

I've been thinking of that. I know the stories he and his people will make up. And the papers will get hold of it, and every one will blackguard me. They'll say it was my fault.

John.

D'you mind if I have a talk to him? I think I can save you from all that.

Basil.

[Shrugging his shoulders, impatiently.] Do whatever you like.

John.

[To Fanny.] Show him up, Fanny.

Fanny.

Yes, sir.

[She goes out.

Basil.

Then I shall go.

[John nods, and Basil goes out by the door next to that of the room in which Jenny is lying. James Bush appears.

John.

[Grave and cold.] Good morning, Mr. Bush.

James.

[Aggressively.] Where's that man?

John.

[Raising his eyebrows.] It's usual to take one's hat off in other people's houses.

James.

I'm a man of principle, I am; and I keep my 'at on to show it.

John.

Ah, well, we won't discuss the point.

James.

I want to see that man.

John.

May I ask to whom you're referring? There are so many men in the world. In fact, it's very over-crowded.

James.

Who are you, I should like to know?

John.

[Politely.] My name is Halliwell. I had the pleasure of meeting you at Basil's rooms in Bloomsbury.

James.

[Aggressively.] I know that.

John.

I beg your pardon. I thought you were asking for information.

James.

I tell you I want to see my brother-in-law.

John.

I'm afraid you can't.

James.

I tell you I will see 'im. He's murdered my sister. He's a blackguard and a murderer, and I'll tell him so to his face.

John.

[Sarcastic.] Take care he doesn't hear you.

James.

I want him to hear me. I'm not frightened of him. I should just like to see him touch me now. [He sidles viciously to John.] H'm, you tried to keep me out, did yer? Said I couldn't come to my sister's 'ouse—and kept me waitin' in the 'all like a tradesman. Oh, I'll make you all pay for this. I'll get my own back now. Measley set of West End curs, that's all you are.

John.

Mr. Bush, you'll be so good as to keep a civil tongue in your mouth while you're here—and you'll talk less loudly.

James.

[Scornfully.] Who says so?

John.

[Looking at him quietly.] I do.

James.

[Less decisively.] Don't you try and bully me.

John.

[Pointing to a chair.] Won't you sit down?

James.

No, I won't sit down. This ain't the 'ouse that a gentleman would sit down in. I'll be even with 'im yet. I'll tell the jury a pretty story. He deserves to be strung up, he does.

John.

I can't tell you how extremely sorry I am for what has happened.

James.

Oh, don't try and get round me.

John.

Really, Mr. Bush, you have no reason to be indignant with me.

James.

Well, I don't think much of you, any 'ow.

John.

I'm very sorry. Last time we met I thought you a very amiable person. Don't you remember, we went and had a drink together?

James.

I don't say you're not a gentleman.

John.

[Taking out his cigar-case.] Won't you have a cigar?

James.

[Suspiciously.] Look here, you're not trying to bluff me, are you?

John.

Certainly not. I wouldn't dream of such a thing.

James.

[Taking a cigar.] Larranaga.

John.

[With an acid smile.] Nine pounds a hundred.

James.

That's one and nine apiece, ain't it?

John.

How quickly you reckon!

James.

You must be pretty oofy to be able to afford that.

John.

[Drily.] It does inspire respect, doesn't it?

James.

I don't know what you mean by that. But I flatter myself I know a good cigar when I see it.

[John sits down, and James Bush, without thinking, follows his example.]

John.

What d'you think you'll get out of making a row at the inquest? Of course, there'll be an inquest.

James.

Yes, I know there will. And I'm lookin' forward to it, I can tell you.

John.

I wouldn't have said that if I'd been you.

James.

[Quite unconscious of the construction that may be put on his last words—full of his own grievances.] I've 'ad something to put up with, I 'ave.

John.

Really?

James.

Oh, he's treated me shockin'! He simply treated me like dirt. I wouldn't 'ave stood it a minute, except for Jenny's sake. I wasn't good enough for 'im, if you please. And the way he used to look right through me as if I wasn't there at all—Oh, I'll be even with 'im now.

John.

What are you going to do?

James.

Never you mind. I'm going to make it hot for 'im.

John.

D'you think that'll do you any good?

James.

[Springing up.] Yes. And I mean to....

John.

[Interrupting.] Now sit down, there's a good chap, and let's have a little talk about it.

James.

[Angrily.] You're trying to bamboozle me.

John.

Nonsense.

James.

Oh, yes, you are. Don't try to deny it. I can see through you as if you was a pane of glass. You people in the West End—you think you know everything.

John.

I assure you....

James.

[Interrupting.] But I've had a City training, and you can lay anything you like there ain't no flies on me.

John.

We're both men of the world, Mr. Bush. Will you do me a great favour as a—friend?

James.

[Suspiciously.] That depends on what it is.

John.

It's merely to listen to me quietly for two or three minutes.

James.

I don't mind doing that.

John.

Well, the fact is—Basil's going away, and he wants to get rid of the furniture and the house. What d'you think it's worth, as an auctioneer?

James.

[Looking round.] It's a very different business what a thing's worth, and what it'll fetch.

John.

Of course, but a clever man like you....

James.

Now then, no bluff. I tell you it won't work with me.... D'you include plate and linen?

John.

Everything.

James.

Well, if it was well sold—by a man as knew his business....

John.

If you sold it, for instance?

James.

It might fetch a hundred pounds—it might fetch a hundred and fifty.

John.

That wouldn't be a bad present to make to any one, would it?

James.

No. I think I can agree with you there.

John.

Well, Basil thought of giving the entire contents of the house to your mother and sister.

James.

To tell you the truth, it's no more than he ought to do.

John.

The condition is, of course, that nothing is said at the inquest.

James.

[With a sneer.] You make me laugh. D'you think you can gag me by giving a houseful of furniture to my mother?

John.

I had no such exalted opinion of your disinterestedness, Mr. Bush. I come to you now.

James.

[Sharply.] What d'you mean by that?

John.

It appears that you owe Basil a good deal of money. Can you pay it?

James.

No.

John.

Also it appears that there was some difficulty with your accounts in your last place.

James.

That's a lie.

John.

Possibly. But altogether I fancy we could make it uncommonly nasty for you if you made a fuss. If dirty linen is going to be washed in public—there's generally a good deal to be done on both sides.

James.

I don't care. I mean to get my own back. If I can only get my knife into that man—I'll take the consequences.

John.

On the other hand—if you won't make a fuss at the inquest, I'll give you fifty pounds.

James.

[Jumping up indignantly.] Are you trying to bribe me?

John.

[Calmly.] Yes.

James.

I would 'ave you know that I'm a gentleman, and what's more, I'm an Englishman. And I'm proud of it. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I've never 'ad any one try and bribe me before.

John.

[Indifferently.] Otherwise you would, doubtless, have accepted.

James.

I've got more than half a mind to knock you down.

John.

[With a slight smile.] Come, come, Mr. Bush, don't be ridiculous. You'd far better keep quiet, you know.

James.

[Scornfully.] What do you think fifty pounds is to me?

John.

[With a sharp look.] Who spoke of fifty pounds?

James.

You did.

John.

You must have mistaken me. A hundred and fifty.

James.

Oh! [At first he is surprised, then, as the amount sinks into his mind, grows doubtful.] That's a very different pair of shoes.

John.

I don't ask you to say anything untrue. After all, it's not worth while for a man of the world like you—a business man—to give way to petty spite. And we don't want to have any scandal. That would be just as unpleasant for you as for us.

James.

[Undecided.] There's no denying that she was hysterical. If he'd only treated me like a gentleman, I shouldn't have had anything to say.

John.

Well?

James.

[With a foxy, keen glance at John.] Make it two 'undred, and I'll say done.

John.

[Firmly.] No. You can take a hundred and fifty, or go to the devil.

James.

Oh, well, 'and it over.

John.

[Taking a cheque out of his pocket.] I'll give you fifty now and the rest after the inquest.

James.

[With a certain admiration.] You're a sharp 'un, you are.

[John writes out the cheque and gives it to James Bush.

James.

Shall I give you a receipt? I'm a business man, you know.

John.

Yes, I know; but it's not necessary. You'll tell your mother and sister?

James.

Don't you fear. I'm a gentleman, and I don't go back on my friends.

John.

Now I think I'll say good morning to you. You can understand that Basil isn't fit to see any one.

James.

I understand. So long.

[He stretches out his hand, which John shakes gravely.]

John.

Good morning.

[Fanny comes in by one door as James Bush goes out by another.]

Fanny.

Good riddance to bad rubbish.

John.

Ah, Fanny, if there were no rogues in the world, life would really be too difficult for honest men.

[Fanny goes out, and John walks to the door and calls.]

John.

Basil—he's gone.... Where are you?

[Basil comes out of the room in which is lying Jenny's body.]

John.

I didn't know you were in there.

Basil.

I wonder if she forgives me?

John.

I wouldn't worry myself too much if I were you, Basil, old man.

Basil.

If you only knew how I despise myself!

John.

Come, come, Basil, you must make an effort....

Basil.

I've not told you the worst. I feel such a cad. There's one thought that's been with me all night. And I can't drive it away. It's worse than anything else. It's too shameful.

John.

What do you mean?

Basil.

Oh, it's so despicable. And yet it's too strong for me.... I can't help thinking that I'm—free.

John.

Free?

Basil.

It's treachery to her memory. But you don't know what it is when your prison door is opened. [As he speaks he grows more and more excited.] I don't want to die. I want to live, and I want to take life by both hands and enjoy it. I've got such a desire for happiness. Let's open the windows, and let the sunlight in. [He goes to the window and flings it open.] It's so good just to be alive. How can I help thinking that now I can start fresh? The slate is wiped clean, and I can begin again. I will be happy. God forgive me, I can't help the thought. I'm free. I made a ghastly mistake, and I suffered for it. Heaven knows how I suffered, and how hard I tried to make the best of it. It wasn't all my fault. In this world we're made to act and think things because other people have thought them good. We never have a chance of going our own way. We're bound down by the prejudices and the morals of everybody else. For God's sake, let us be free. Let us do this and that because we want to and because we must, not because other people think we ought. [He stops suddenly in front of John.] Why don't you say something? You stare at me as if you thought me raving mad!

John.

I don't know what to say.

Basil.

Oh, I suppose you're shocked and scandalised. I ought to go on posing. I ought to act the part decently to the end. You would never have had the courage to do what I did, and yet, because I've failed, you think you can look down on me from the height of your moral elevation.

John.

[Gravely.] I was thinking how far a man may fall when he attempts to climb the stars.

Basil.

I gave the world fine gold, and their currency is only cowrie-shells. I held up an ideal, and they sneered at me. In this world you must wallow in the trough with the rest of them.... The only moral I can see is that if I'd acted like a blackguard—as ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have done—and let Jenny go to the dogs, I should have remained happy and contented and prosperous. And she, I dare say, wouldn't have died.... It's because I tried to do my duty and act like a gentleman and a man of honour, that all this misery has come about.

John.

[Looking at him quietly.] I think I should put it in another way. One has to be very strong and very sure of oneself to go against the ordinary view of things. And if one isn't, perhaps it's better not to run any risks, but just to walk along the same secure old road as the common herd. It's not exhilarating, it's not brave, and it's rather dull. But it's eminently safe.

[Basil scarcely hears the last words, but listens intently to other sounds outside.

Basil.

What's that? I thought I heard a carriage.

John.

[A little surprised.] Do you expect any one?

Basil.

I sent a wire to—to Hilda at the same time as to you.

John.

Already?

Basil.

[Excited.] D'you think she'll come?

John.

I don't know. [A ring is heard at the front door.

Basil.

[Running to the window.] There's some one at the door.

John.

Perhaps it's occurred to her also that you're free.

Basil.

[With the utmost passion.] Oh, she loves me, and I—I adore her. God forgive me, I can't help it.

[Fanny comes in.

Fanny.

If you please, sir, the Coroner's officer.

THE END