NOR. My last appearance as Machiavelli! (_goes to L._)
_Re-enter TOM moodily, R.C. from R._
TOM. (_comes down C._) I don"t like the look of the pond.
NOR. What pond? What are you talking about?
TOM. Oh, by the bye, I haven"t told you what we"re going to do.
NOR. Who"s going to do?
TOM. Why, me and Mildred. Drown ourselves. At least we _were_ going to drown ourselves, until we saw the pond. Now, we are going to think of something else.
NOR. (_goes to TOM_) Look here, Tom! it"s quite time little boys were in bed. You"ll have plenty of time to-morrow.
TOM. Ah! You don"t know what it is, to love--and get the key of the street!
NOR. Don"t I? I"ve got it.
TOM. _You"ve_ got it, Ned?
NOR. Miss Derwent has just given it me.
TOM. I say, let"s drown one another! You go first! (_puts NORMANTOWER across up towards R.U.D._)
NOR. No, thank you, Tom. I"ll go and make things up. (_exit, R.U.D._)
_Re-enter SIR PETER, R.I.D., lost in thought, he goes up a little, R.C._
TOM. (_down C., turning--seeing SIR PETER_) Sir Peter--the very man--I say, Sir Peter! (_turns up to SIR PETER_)
SIR P. Mr. Verinder?
TOM. Aren"t you a doctor?
SIR P. I had the honour to belong to the medical profession before you were born.
TOM. A lot of things seem to have happened before I was born--and everybody takes care to let me know it.
SIR P. It is impossible to know too much.
TOM. Then, tell me. What"s the pleasantest way of committing suicide?
SIR P. Hem! The question is scarcely usual. I regret to say, the etiquette of my profession precludes me from replying. (_mock bow.
Goes up C._)
TOM. Pompous old a.s.s! I don"t believe he knows. (_goes to L.C._)
_Re-enter MILDRED, R.U.D., with an open book in her hand._
MIL. Tom, Tom! (_comes down R.C._)
TOM. What"s that you"ve got?
MIL. "Kennedy on Poisons." (_reading from book. SIR PETER listens_) I found it in Miss Derwent"s dressing-room.
TOM. Just what we wanted--let me have a look.
SIR P. (_advancing_) Give me that book. (_between them. MILDRED draws book away_)
TOM. But it"s not hers--it"s----
SIR P. (_peremptorily_) Give that book to me. (_MILDRED gives it him_) How dare you take this from Miss Derwent"s dressing-room?
MIL. (_begins to cry_) I didn"t know that I was doing wrong. Mousey is always at Miss Derwent"s bookcase.
TOM. How dare _you_ take that from Miss Selwyn! Is it yours? (_facing him boldly_)
SIR P. By force of arms.
TOM. Force is not argument.
SIR P. (_in a voice of thunder_) Go away, boy, go! (_points R. TOM collapses, crosses to MILDRED, and exit with MILDRED R.I.D. quickly_)
SIR P. (sits on sofa) "Kennedy--Poisons"--(_opens fly-leaf_) "Kate Derwent--from her friend, the Author--Guy"s Hospital, 17th April, 1888." Kennedy"s pet lamb! Gives it right and left, and not got through the first edition yet. Nothing remarkable in that. But why does it open at a.r.s.enic? "Mousey is always at Miss Derwent"s book-case."
_Re-enter PRICE, R.I.D._
PRI. Mr. Learoyd, the chemist, is here, sir.
SIR P. (_rises_) I"ll see him at once. (_PRICE is going. SIR PETER goes to him_) Stop--give this key to your mistress, with my compliments. (_gives PRICE the key_) You"ll find her in her room.
(_crosses and exit R.I.D._)
_PRICE crosses and knocks at door L. and withdraws to L.C. up stage.
Re-enter BEATRICE, L. after a pause, she has medicine bottle and wine-gla.s.s in her hand._
BEA. What is it?
PRI. Sir Peter told me to give you this, madam, with his compliments.
(_gives key and goes R. towards upper door_)
BEA. (_aside_) The key! (_goes down L. Aloud_) Price! I am going to bed. I shall not want Johnson. Put all the lights out, lock the outer door of the conservatory, and make up the house.
PRI. Yes, madam, but Sir Peter----
BEA. Do as I tell you.
_Music in orchestra. BEATRICE has put medicine and gla.s.s on table, and stands in front of table, deep in thought. PRICE puts out lamp on piano, then the one in conservatory, lower lights, then disappears R.U.E. A lock is heard to turn. Re-enter PRICE, R.C., he goes to R.U.D._