RGL e-Book Cover 2017©
RGL e-Book Cover 2017©
Dramatis Personae Mr. Herbert Ordish Lord Haughton Lady Bertha Merton Scene Drawing-room of a bijou residence in Mayfair, close to the Park. Lady Bertha Merton alone, standing at window and looking out thoughtfully into the twilight. A hansom drives rapidly to the door and pulls up. She steps back into the room, and throws herself into an easy-chair. Lady Bertha: How absurd! If he had seen me standing there, no doubt he would have the conceit to imagine that I was watching for him. It was quite a chance that he did not look in. Listen! Yes, there is his step in the hall. He will be here directly, and what am I to say to him? I suppose it must be "yes"--and yet--(hesitates)--am I a little afraid of him, I wonder? I wish I felt happier about it. I wish--yes, I do wish that it were-- (Enter footman, closely followed by a tall, fair man in a tweed travelling suit, and very dusty.) Lady Bertha (surprised): Mr Ordish! Why this is an unexpected visit! I thought that you were in Rome. Herbert Ordish (holding both her hands and trying to look into her face): Unexpected, yes. But you know the proverb! I was in Rome three days ago. Lady Bertha (gently withdrawing her hands): And whatever has brought you back so suddenly? Not bad news, I hope. Sir George is not worse. Herbert Ordish: Oh, no, my father is all right A matter of business--a friend needed my help. It may be only a trifling matter, but I had to come. I fear from the doubtful way in which your man admitted me that you were expecting--someone else. Perhaps my visit is inopportune. I suppose I ought to apologlee for my attire too! I am not in calling trim, but I came straight here from Charing Cross. Lady Bertha: You need not apologise for anything. You know that I am delighted to see you. It is true that I am expecting -- someone else, but that need not interfere with your visit. Tell me, how is Rome looking? Is it full, and have you met Lady Margaret yet? What sort of an English set is it this season--amusing? Herbert Ordish: I am afraid that I shall be but a very unsatisfactory newsmonger. I have been too busy to pay calls or accept invitations. My work just lately has left me with very little spare time on my hands. I met Lady Margaret quite by accident at Maggie's studio on Sunday. I had news of you from her. Lady Bertha: News of me! Really! Herbert Ordish (slowly): Yes. It's that which has brought me to England. Lady Bertha (taking up a fire-screen and shading her face): You are talking in enigmas. Herbert Ordish: Enigmas which I propose to solve. (Rises, and stands over Lady Bertha, lcoking tenderly down at her.) Bertha, I was told that you were going to be married. Is this true? Lady Bertha: It is--a little premature, at any rate! Herbert Ordish: Bertha! Lady Merton! You know that mine is a poor family--that my father's estates are heavily encumbered, and that I am earning my own living as a journalist. But for this the words which are in my heart to say to you now, would have been spoken long ago. I have waited, hoping I scarcely know for what, and I should have gone on waiting if it had not been for Lady Margaret's warning. The fear of losing you was terrible. Bertha, you know that I love you! You know that I have loved you through als these weary years, Tell me-- (Footman announces Lord Haughton. Enter Lord Haughton, middle-aged, cynical, distinguished, dressed in frock coat and grey trousera, with an orchid in hin buttonhole.) Lady Bertha (rising and holding out her hand): How do you do, Lord Houghton! You are a late comer this afternoon. I had almost given you up. Lord Haughton: I am only too flattered that you should have thought of my coming at all! The fact is I lunched-- Lady Bertha (interrupting): That will do if you please. A man's excuses and amateur pianoforte playing are two things in this world to which I simply cannot listen. They are too utterly crude! Let me introduce you to an old friend of mine, Mr Herbert Ordish. Mr Ordish, this is Lord Haughton. (The two men face one another, and both perceptibly start. Lord Haughton grows suddenly pale. He extends his hand and rapidly draws it back. Herbert Ordish has calmly clasped his behind his back. Lord Haughton recovers his composure with a visible effort, but neither of the men speak.) Lady Bertha (who has been looking from one to another with indifferently veiled curiosity): You men seem to have lost your tongues--or your manners. Have you met before? Really, you might be hero and villain in an Adelphi drama. Lord Haughton (nonchalantly): Mr. Ordish and I have met somewhere aoroad, I am sure. I cannot for the moment remember where. Lady Berths: How very interesting. I am going to leave you to entertain one another for a few minutes. Perhaps a you will be able to puzzle it out by the time I get back. And, mind (looking back from the doorway with the curtain in her hand), I shall expect to hear all about it! Exit Lady Bertha. Lord Haughton (coolly): 'Pon my soul, this is an odd meeting! Let me see, the last time we came together was on poor Merton's ranch, when that broiling horrible sun was frizzling all up. What a wild week we had; no ice, no seltzer water, and naturally, no hock! Wonder we didn't all go mad. It was just about that time that Merton commenced to drink brandy--poor devil! Herbert Ordish: You are mistaken, James Lowther--I beg your pardon, Lord Haughton. Our last meeting was in a place where God's sun has never shone. Lord Haughton: Indeed! And it was--? Herbert Ordish: In a St Louis gambling hell! (Lord Hanghton starts and turn ashen white.) Lord Hanghton (in a low tone): You were not there? Herbert Ordish: I was! Let me recall the scene to you. It was in a gaudily painted cellar beneath the street, in the vilest quarter of one of the worst cities in the world--a city which, although in touch with all that is effete and vicious in our Eastern civilisation, yet retains all the gambler's licence, and lawlessness of the land, on whose borders it has sprung up. It was a mad night that! You remember it! "Long Dan," the bank-keeper, as peace-loving a man as ever breathed, had shot a cowboy early in the evenaig for handling his knife too freely, and his body lay across a chair, next to the table wbere you and poor Merton sat gambling. Ah! yon remember it. I see! Lord Hanghton: You read it in the papers. It is a lie! You were not there! Herbert Ordish: Listen. I was in cowboy's rig-out myself, unluckily; the first disguise I could think of when I followed you, and the man whom you were fast dragging down into hell, from Jackson's ranch. Cowboys were unpopular that evening and there were one or two desperadoes there who had sworn to shoot the first their eyes lit upon, and every now and then they looked across at me curiously. But there you sat and played, and there I sat and watched. You were winning! Do you remember the piles and piles of gold, and dollar bills, and I.O.U.'s? Yes, you were winning, and I sat there in my corner, knowing how you were winning, with my hand on my revolver, waiting for that moment when you should betray yourself. It came! You made a clumsy move; recklessly and absurdly clumsy! Your victim saw it even before I did, and I heard the thunder of his British wrath as he sprang to his feet, and grasped your arm! You know what followed. You shot him through the heart, and my revolver was knocked up by one of your blackguardly gang, and whilst the room was full of smoke and wild confusion, resounding with shots and yelling, and the smashing of glass, you somehow disappeared--God knows how! I was flung out for dead with two shots in my body, and a stab in my side. They took me for a spy--no one knew who I was. But I did not die, although I came near it! I have prayed for this meeting, Lord Haughton! You and I have an old account to settle! Ah! no good to let your hand steal behind! The pocket of that immaculate coat of yours was never made to hold a Colt's. This time we fight with different weapons, and I think I'll win. Lord Haughton (with composure): Your memory and your powers of description are alike excellent, my dear Ordish. A trick of your craft, I suppose. That last little remark, though, seems to me just a trifle premature. You forget that you have no evidence to back your word--no proof of any sort. It is your hIghly-coloured story against my flat denial! Your word against mine! Good! So let it be. Herbert Ordish: Your word against mine let it be, Lord Haughtor; but let me tell you this. Even though your subtlety and cunning should prevail, even though my story is laughed at, and I am branded as a madman, even then I shall not permit you to show your face in this house again, or to continue your acquaintance with the wife of the man you first plundered and robbed, and then murdered. Your very presence in this room is a heinous and a blasphemous outrage. You will leave it this instant! Lord Haughton (suavely): At the bidding of its mistress only. I regard you as a lunatic. Come, if this is to be your battle-ground, throw down your gage! Tell Lady Merton your story! I deny it from beginning to end! (Enter Lady Bertha from behind the curtains, followed by footman.) Lady Bertha: I am able to spare you the trouble! Robert, the door to Lord Haughton. Herbert! (holds out her hands impulsively). Herbert Ordish (taking them glady): Bertha!!!