PIKE. You mean that I"d only stand between her and you for my own sake?
LADY CREECH. We can comprehend no other grounds.
PIKE [solemnly]. I don"t believe you can! But you _can_ comprehend that I wouldn"t have any hope, can"t you?
LADY CREECH. One never knows what these weird Americans hope. Hawcastle a.s.sures me you have some such idea, but my charge has studied under my instruction--deportment, manners, and ideals--which has lifted her above the mere American circ.u.mstance of her birth. She has ambitions. If you stand in the way of them she will wither, she will die like a caged bird. All that was sordid about her parentage she has cast off. We have thought that we might make something out of her.
PIKE [in a clear voice, looking at her mildly]. Make _something_ out of her--yes, _ma"am!_
LADY CREECH [quickly]. Make something _better_ of her. We offer her this alliance with a family which for seven hundred years--
PIKE. Yes, ma"am--Crecy and Agincourt--I know.
LADY CREECH. With a family never sullied by those low ideals of barter and exchange which are the governing impulses of your countrymen.
PIKE. Seven hundred years--[fumbling in coat-pocket]--why, look here, Mrs. Creech!
[At this LADY CREECH half rises from her chair with a profound shudder, sinks back again; PIKE continues.]
I"ve got a letter right here [takes letter from pocket] that tells me your brother-in-law was in business--and I respect him for it--only a few years ago.
LADY CREECH [angrily]. A letter from whom?
PIKE. Jim Cooley, our vice-consul in London. Jim ain"t the wisest man in the world, but he seems to have this all right, and _he_ says Mr.
Hawcastle--
LADY CREECH [exploding]. _Mr._ Hawcastle!
PIKE [placatingly]. Well, I can call a person Colonel or Cap or Doc or anything of that kind, but I just plain don"t know how to use the kind of words you have over here for those things. They don"t seem to fit my mouth, somehow. Just let me run on my own way. I don"t mean to hurt your feelings. Anyway, Jim says your brother-in-law was in business in Russia.
[Up to this point he has gone on rapidly, but after the word "Russia" he pauses abruptly as if startled by a sudden thought and slowly repeats.]
"In business in Russia!"
[He rises.]
LADY CREECH. This is beside the point entirely!
PIKE. It _is_ the point! Now, between us, ain"t Jim right? Ain"t it the truth?
LADY CREECH [angry and agitated]. Since some of your vulgar American officials have been spying about--
PIKE [with controlled excitement]. Your brother-in-law was in business in Russia; so far, so good.
[Leans upon back of chair watching her, eager, but smiling cordially.]
I don"t say he was peddling shoe-strings on the corner or selling weinerwursts--
[LADY CREECH gives a slight scream of indignation.]
PIKE [continuing]. Probably something more hifalutin" and dignified than that. He was probably agent for a wooden b.u.t.ter-dish factory.
LADY CREECH [enraged]. He had contracts with the Russian government itself!
PIKE (staggering back, recovers himself immediately, and, speaking sharply, but in a voice of great agitation). _Not_ for mining--_not_ for hydraulic machines!
LADY CREECH. And even so he protected the historic name of St. Aubyn.
PIKE. By G.o.d, I believe you!
LADY CREECH. Don"t mumble your words!
PIKE. Had he ever lived at Glenwood Priory?
LADY CREECH [indignantly]. Is your mind wandering? The priory belonged to Hawcastle"s mother. Can you state its connection with the subject?
PIKE. That"s how he protected the historic name of St. Aubyn! That"s the name he took--Glenwood!
LADY CREECH. What of that?
PIKE [awe-struck]. G.o.d moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform!
LADY CREECH. Oblige me by omitting blasphemous allusions in my presence. What answer are you prepared to make to Lord Hawcastle?
PIKE [in a ringing voice]. Tell your brother-in-law that he can have my answer in ten minutes--and he can come to me _here_ for it! I"ll give it in the presence of the young lady and her brother.
LADY CREECH [turning to go]. Her brother--certainly! He is in perfect sympathy with our att.i.tude. As for Miss Granger-Simpson"s knowing anything of this most disagreeable affair--no!
PIKE. I beg your pardon.
LADY CREECH. I shall not permit her to come near here. As her chaperone I refuse. We all refuse!
PIKE. All right; refuse away.
LADY CREECH. I shall tell Lord Hawcastle--
PIKE. Ten minutes from now and in this room.
LADY CREECH. But Miss Granger-Simpson under no condition whatever.
[Sweeps out haughtily.]
[PIKE closes the doors behind her, touches an electric b.u.t.ton over the mantel, then sits at desk and writes hurriedly. Knock at upper doors.]
PIKE. Come in!
[Enter MARIANO.]
PIKE. Mariano, I want you to take this note to Miss Simpson.