[Etchingham stops as he hears the order and turns round.
Bennett.
That’ll bring those men up. Don’t you remember you told....
George Winter.
[Interrupting.] Ring the bell, damn you!
[Bennett, without a word, presses the button. Etchingham comes back into the middle of the room.
Etchingham.
What are you going to do?
George Winter.
Hulloa, I thought you were routing out your pistols by now.
Etchingham.
You’re not going to see those fellows?
Bennett.
They’ll insist on seeing Mrs. Winter.
George Winter.
Then I shall send for her.
Etchingham.
Oh, you needn’t think she’ll back you up in your confounded lies.
George Winter.
[Blandly.] Anyhow, I dare say you’d like to wait and see.
Etchingham.
[Suspiciously.] Have you got something up your sleeve?
George Winter.
My dear fellow, our sex would be at an impossible disadvantage in its dealings with the other, if it were not for the most obstinate of all their passions.... Self-sacrifice.
Etchingham.
You’re counting on that?
George Winter.
You’ve given Kate such a training in it that I can’t help thinking it has become a habit.
Etchingham.
I won’t say a word to move her.
[He flings himself heavily into a chair. Already half his heroic resolutions have evaporated. George Winter watches him with cynical amusement.
George Winter.
Like all great men I leave as little as possible to chance.
Etchingham.
[With a start.] Perigal?
George Winter.
That’s it.
Bennett.
D’you think there’s a chance, Governor?
George Winter.
We must risk it. It’s the last fling.
[The Butler ushers in Mr. Swalecliffe, James Ford and Colonel Boyce. Mr. Swalecliffe is a Nonconformist Minister, clean shaven, with a sallow grave face. James Ford is a wealthy man, a pillar of the Nonconformist church in Middlepool and a local politician of importance; he is a large man, stout, oldish, badly dressed, with a slight North Country accent; he gives the impression of shrewdness, but also of complete honesty and straightforwardness. Colonel Boyce, who is George Winter’s agent, is spare and tall, bronzed, with grey hair and a grey waxed moustache; alert, neatly dressed and dapper. He is the kind of retired military man who may be seen by the score in Bath, Tunbridge Wells or Cheltenham.
Thompson.
Mr. Swalecliffe, Mr. James Ford, Colonel Boyce.
[Exit.
George Winter.
How d’you do? I’m delighted to see you! I hope I haven’t kept you waiting?
James Ford.
Not a bit! It’s of no consequence.
George Winter.
Let me introduce you to my father-in-law. Mr. Swalecliffe—Lord Francis Etchingham.
[Mr. Swalecliffe bows stiffly. He is not going to open his mouth if he can help it.
George Winter.
Mr. James Ford.
James Ford.
Pleased to meet you, Lord Francis.
Etchingham.
It’s very kind of you to say so.
George Winter.
When I suggested to Lord Francis that it would be more convenient for you to come here, he put his house at my disposal. My wife is staying here, you know. We’re doing up the house in Portman Square, and she can’t stand the smell of paint.
Boyce.
[Anxious to make things easy.] Naturally. I don’t like it myself.
George Winter.
How is your wife, Mr. Swalecliffe? Well, I trust.
Swalecliffe.
Thank you.
George Winter.
And the children?
Swalecliffe.
Yes, thank you.
George Winter.
Now sit down and make yourselves comfortable, won’t you? Have you had tea?
James Ford.
Boyce.
[Rather pompously.] I took them into my club.
George Winter.
Will you have a drink? I can recommend my father-in-law’s whisky. I know it’s no good offering you one, Mr. Swalecliffe?
James Ford.
Boyce and I had a little drop of Scotch to our tea.
George Winter.
Then we’ll get to business at once, shall we?
Swalecliffe.
[Clearing his throat.] I should like to say, before we go any further, that it is with the greatest regret that Mr. Ford and I have come up to London on such an errand.
James Ford.
There’s been a lot of gossip in Middlepool, and, well, we thought the shortest way to settle it was....
Boyce.
I personally don’t think this is a matter of which the committee ought to take any notice. A man’s private life is his private life, and....
James Ford.
That’s all very well, Colonel. Winter’s an old friend of mine. We’ve had business dealings together for the past twenty years. But ... well, it’s a question of winning the election or losing it. There’s never been much in it one way or another, and fifty votes more or less will make all the difference.
Swalecliffe.
I want to tell you frankly, Mr. Winter, that I should feel it my duty to vote against you, if there were any truth in the reports that have been going about. And I should feel it my duty to advise my congregation to follow my example.
George Winter.
That’s clear enough in all conscience. Gentlemen, the best answer I can make to you is that I receive you in my father-in-law’s house. My wife is upstairs in her mother’s boudoir. I give you my word of honour that there is not the smallest shadow of truth in any single syllable that you have heard. I have issued a writ for libel against the Herald, and....
Boyce.
Surely that ought to satisfy anyone.
James Ford.
Well, it doesn’t satisfy me.
George Winter.
Perhaps you would like my father-in-law to tell you that every word I say is scrupulously true?
Swalecliffe.
We don’t doubt your word, Mr. Winter, but we came to London with a particular object.
Boyce.
I must say I thought from the beginning it was open to the gravest question.
James Ford.
The committee discussed it at length, and the majority agreed that....
George Winter.
[Rising.] Of course, of course, Etchingham, will you give these gentlemen the assurance?
Etchingham.
[After a moment’s hesitation.] I think the whole thing’s damned impertinent.
Boyce.
That’s exactly what I said.
James Ford.
[Quietly.] You’re only wasting time, Winter.
Swalecliffe.
We made up our minds that we must have a certain assurance from the lips of Mrs. Winter. Then we can go back to Middlepool with comfortable minds.
George Winter.
[Trying bluster.] D’you mean to say you wish to cross-examine my wife?
Swalecliffe.
I merely wish her to answer the questions that were put to you in Colonel Boyce’s letter on behalf of the committee.
George Winter.
[Pretending to fly into a violent passion.] No decent woman would stand it. I refuse to ask my wife to expose herself to such a degradation.
James Ford.
That means that you don’t represent Middlepool in the next Parliament, George Winter.
George Winter.
I’d sooner lose my seat than expose a defenceless woman to such humiliation. You can go and tell that to your committee and be damned to you!
Swalecliffe.
But we came up from Middlepool on the understanding that we were to see your wife, Mr. Winter.
George Winter.
My wife is in very delicate health.
James Ford.
We shan’t keep her more than five minutes. You’d be wise to let common sense get the better of your pretty sentiments.
[There is a slight pause. George Winter realizes that he cannot bluff them out of their determination: he goes over silently and rings the bell.
George Winter.
Very well.
James Ford.
I think it’s the best thing, you know.
George Winter.
But if my wife refuses to answer I warn you that I shall not say a word to persuade her. I think the whole thing’s a perfect scandal.
[The Butler enters.
George Winter.
Tell Mrs. Winter that Lord Francis and I would be very much obliged if she’d come to the drawing-room for one moment.
Thompson.
Very good, sir.
[Exit.
Boyce.
I wish you to know that I have expressed myself very strongly all through against this proceeding.
James Ford.
Shut up, Boyce. When we want your opinion we’ll ask for it.
[They wait in silence. In a moment Catherine comes in.
George Winter.
These are the gentlemen of whom I spoke to you. Gentlemen, here is my wife.
James Ford.
[Cordially.] How d’you do, Mrs. Winter? Pleased to see you.
Catherine.
[With a smile.] How d’you do?
James Ford.
We’ve not had the pleasure of welcoming you in Middlepool for some time.
Catherine.
I’ve not been very well lately.
Swalecliffe.
[To George Winter.] Will you put the question to Mrs. Winter that we set in our letter to you of the day before yesterday?
George Winter.
No, sir. If you’re not ashamed to ask the question you may ask it yourself.
Swalecliffe.
I am a stranger to Mrs. Winter. The matter requires some explanation.
James Ford.
It’s no use making any bones about it, Swalecliffe. Mrs. Winter, I’m sorry to put you in this position, but there it is, and it can’t be helped. There are busybodies everywhere, and Middlepool has its fair share of them. There’s been a lot of gossip about you and your good man, and if we don’t look out it’ll lose him the election.
Catherine.
What do you want me to say to you?
James Ford.
Well, we want to be able to go back to Middlepool and tell them we’ve had it from your own lips that there’s no truth in these reports.
[There is a pause. Etchingham can hardly bear his anxiety. Bennett is trying to hide his agitation. George Winter looks at her with a smile. Catherine and James Ford confront one another, and she looks at him steadily.
Catherine.
That you may do.
[Etchingham cannot prevent a little gasp of relief, but George Winter makes no sign.
Swalecliffe.
You have no intention of divorcing your husband?
Catherine.
None whatever.
Swalecliffe.
You’ve never had any intention?
George Winter.
[Impatiently.] Good lord, isn’t that enough for you?
James Ford.
[Kindly.] Yes, yes, we won’t bother you any more. Thank you, very much! And I’m glad that you’ve put our minds at rest. George Winter, shake hands.
George Winter.
I’ll shake hands with you, but I can’t help saying that I could have expected more charity, more confidence in me from men who make a practice of belief in the Christian Church.
James Ford.
[Unmoved by the rebuke.] That’s all right.
Swalecliffe.
I can understand your vexation, Mr. Winter. But we were in a very difficult position.
James Ford.
Anyhow, we must get along, and if we look sharp we’ll catch the 5.40 back to Middlepool. Good afternoon to you, Mrs. Winter. Good afternoon, gentlemen.
George Winter.
Mr. Bennett will show you out. Good-bye. Good-bye, Boyce. I shall be up at Middlepool in a day or two.... [As they are going out.] Oh, by the way, Boyce, a little bit of information for you—Robert Colby’s going to the War Office in the New Cabinet.
THE THIRD ACT
The scene is a spacious sitting-room in the Palace Hotel at Middlepool. It is sumptuously furnished with the lack of taste peculiar to such apartments. Everything is large and rich and rather stiff. It is obvious that the decorations have been carried out on contract by a first-rate firm. They are calculated to give the business man who engages the room the impression that he is getting his money’s worth.
On the left is a large French window, opening to the floor and looking on the square in front of the hotel. At the back is a door leading into George Winter’s bedroom. On the right are two doors; one leads into the passage, and the other is that of Catherine’s room. There is a telephone on the table.
It is some weeks later, between ten and eleven on the morning of the election.
Lord Francis Etchingham, Fred Bennett, James Ford, Colonel Boyce, and Mr. Swalecliffe. Mr. Swalecliffe is standing at the window.
When the curtain rises there is an excited buzz of conversation. Boyce is at the telephone.
Boyce.
[Speaking into the receiver.] Yes, Colonel Boyce. Be sure you don’t make a mistake.
Swalecliffe.
I can’t imagine what’s become of him. One would have thought....
Etchingham.
[To Colonel Boyce.] If he’s not there, you’d better try somewhere else.
James Ford.
[Shouting.] For goodness’ sake let me hear myself speak.
[These speeches are said simultaneously, and immediately afterwards is heard the dull roar of a train passing through the station, and a long, shrill whistle. Etchingham starts nervously.
Etchingham.
Oh, confound those trains.
James Ford.
[Impatiently.] I should have thought you’d got used to them by now.
Etchingham.
Good Lord, I’ve not slept for a week. They go on all night.
Bennett.
They worried me a bit last night. And when I did get to sleep I heard them whistling away through my dreams.
Boyce.
They don’t seem to trouble Winter.
Etchingham.
If they did I suppose he wouldn’t come to this hotel.
James Ford.
[Nodding in the direction of George Winter’s room.] He sleeps next door, doesn’t he?
Boyce.
He told me he slept like a top last night.
Bennett.
[Simultaneously.] He looked as fresh as paint this morning.
Etchingham.
And his room’s practically on the line.
James Ford.
Oh, nonsense.
Etchingham.
Yes, it is. You just walk down a flight of steps into the garden, and there you are within twenty feet of the line.
James Ford.
Worst place in Middlepool for a hotel. I told them so when they came to me about it. Wanted me to put money in it. Not me.
Swalecliffe.
[Breaking in before James Ford has finished.] Surely Mr. Winter ought to be here by now.
James Ford.
You won’t make him come any quicker by looking out of the window.
Boyce.
Every moment’s valuable. Something ought to be done at once.
Etchingham.
[Interrupting.] Don’t you know where he is, Colonel?
Boyce.
He was booked to speak to the men at Parker and Gibbons at 10.30. But you know what he is. Half a dozen places at once. He’s about the most difficult person to catch I know.
Swalecliffe.
Have you sent down to Parker and Gibbons?
Boyce.
Yes, of course I have; I’ve sent a dozen fellows after him to tell him to come to the hotel at once.
Bennett.
[Talking through.] You’ve been careful? You’ve not ...?
Boyce.
You don’t think I’m a beginner at this game, do you?
Bennett.
Well, I didn’t know how you’d made him understand what had happened.
James Ford.
He’s not made him understand. When Winter’s told he’s expected at the Palace at once he’ll guess something’s in the wind.
Swalecliffe.
You’re sure he won’t go to the Committee Rooms?
Boyce.
If he does he’ll be sent on. I thought it would cause a lot of gossip if we had a meeting there. That’s why I suggested the hotel.
Etchingham.
[Interrupting.] I wish to goodness you wouldn’t look so depressed, Mr. Swalecliffe.
Swalecliffe.
You’re a business man, Mr. Ford. D’you think there’s any truth in this article?
James Ford.
You’d better ask Lord Francis. He’s chairman of the new company; I’m only an investor.
Bennett.
Of course there’s nothing in it. The whole thing’s a malicious libel.
James Ford.
Well, we’ll hear what Winter’s got to say about it.
Etchingham.
[Simultaneously.] My Lord, I wish he’d come.
Bennett.
[To James Ford.] You don’t mean to say you think there’s anything in it?
James Ford.
I’ve applied for ten thousand shares. You don’t suppose I like it when an article comes out in a financial paper on the day of issue that the mine’s practically worked out, and Winter’s expert has reported that the ore’s not worth the cost of crushing.
Boyce.
Everybody who’s got a penny to spare in Middlepool has applied for shares.
James Ford.
George Winter told me it was the biggest thing he’d ever had.
Bennett.
He’s never let you down before. Why should he let you down now?
James Ford.
I don’t say he’s let me down. But he told me to put my shirt on it, and ... I don’t want ten thousand worthless shares.
Boyce.
The damnable thing is that it should happen on the day of the election.
Etchingham.
It would be monstrous if people didn’t vote for him because of an article in a London newspaper.
Boyce.
You know what people are. They lose their heads. The seat has always been won and lost on the wobblers.
James Ford.
Oh, the first thing is to win the seat.
Swalecliffe.
Well, we shan’t do that unless Mr. Winter comes at once and we make up our minds what to do.
Etchingham.
Ring up the Committee Rooms, Boyce, and ask if anything’s been heard of him.
Boyce.
All right. I’ll do that.
Swalecliffe.
I was never so taken aback as when Boyce showed me the telephone message from London.
Etchingham.
When do the London papers get here, Mr. Ford?
James Ford.
They ought to be here by half-past ten.
Boyce.
[Speaking into the receiver.] Put me on 78, will you?
Etchingham.
[Simultaneously.] Why the devil don’t they bring them in?
Bennett.
Don’t worry. I’ve told a waiter to bring them as soon as they arrive.
Boyce.
[At the telephone.] I say, is that you, Masters? Has Mr. Winter been there? Well, send Rogers. Here. No, here, confound you! The Palace. [Putting down the receiver.] No, nothing’s been seen of him since early this morning.
Etchingham.
I wonder what the other side are going to do when they hear this.
James Ford.
Oh, don’t you be afraid. They heard about the attack as soon as ever we did.
Bennett.
You ought to have held the line and prevented them from getting on to London.
Boyce.
Good God, one can’t think of everything at once.
Etchingham.
It seems to me the whole thing has been about as disgracefully mismanaged as it could be.
Boyce.
If you’d ever tried to run an election you’d know it wasn’t so easy as all that.
Etchingham.
I’m not an election agent. It’s not my business.
James Ford.
Come, come, gentlemen, it’s no good quarrelling about it.
[These three speeches are spoken at once.
Swalecliffe.
How is the polling going on?
Boyce.
Oh, I think we shall have the heaviest poll we’ve ever had.
James Ford.
Of course there’ll be some slackening off just now. A lot of working men voted when the polling stations opened.
Boyce.
There’ll be twice as many at the dinner-hour.
Swalecliffe.
You don’t know what the Tories are doing, Colonel?
Boyce.
I should think I did know. They’re going to set up the article as soon as it comes in.
Etchingham.
The whole article?
Boyce.
The whole confounded thing.
James Ford.
And placard the streets with it. They’ve made arrangements to print off a thousand, and they’ve got their bill stickers all ready and waiting.
Etchingham.
It’s infamous.
James Ford.
Nonsense! It’s business. We’d have done the same if we’d had the luck to get such a stick as this to beat Morrison with the very morning of the election.
Swalecliffe.
The comfort is, they don’t know Morrison and they do know Winter.
James Ford.
That’s the danger, too. They may know him too well.
Etchingham.
I don’t know what the devil you mean by that. You seem to forget that you’re speaking of my son-in-law.
James Ford.
Oh, we’re not here to pay one another compliments.
Bennett.
If you’ll wait a minute or two he’ll be here himself and you can say to him anything you want to.
Boyce.
What I can’t make out is why he chose this particular day to bring out his company.
Bennett.
He didn’t think the election would take place just yet.
James Ford.
Every one’s been talking of a general election for the last two months.
Bennett.
You know it was sprung upon us at the end.
Swalecliffe.
Couldn’t he have kept the issue back?
Etchingham.
He’d got everything fixed up by then.
James Ford.
[Speaking through.] Of course he could. It was only his obstinacy. I told him it was a bad time to give an American issue to the public.
Etchingham.
Well, you weren’t obliged to apply for shares, were you?
James Ford.
Tell me something I don’t know next, will you?
Etchingham.
I can tell you there’s no harm in keeping a civil tongue in your head.
James Ford.
Thank you, I don’t want lessons in manners from you.
Bennett.
You won’t do yourselves much good by losing your tempers.
Swalecliffe.
Why doesn’t Mr. Winter come?
Boyce.
I dare say he’s sent his car to take some one to the poll and he’s had to walk.
Etchingham.
It seems to me that you’ve bungled everything you could.
Boyce.
I don’t know why the devil you should blame me.
[A waiter comes in with newspapers on a tray.
Bennett.
Here they are at last.
[They crowd round the waiter and take the papers from him. The waiter goes out.
Etchingham.
Thank God, now we shall know the worst.
Boyce.
The Financial News.
James Ford.
Bennett.
Here it is. The Financial Standard.
James Ford.
Give it me.
[He takes the paper from Bennett and opens it. Etchingham watches him anxiously.
Swalecliffe.
I wish to goodness I’d never thought of stocks and shares. I knew it was wrong. Oh, what a punishment!
James Ford.
[Impatiently.] We can’t all read the paper at once.
Bennett.
Spread it out on the table. That’s the best way.
[Bennett and Ford rapidly run their eyes down the article.
Bennett.
Steep, isn’t it?
James Ford.
If the Tories print this it’ll about bust us.
Etchingham.
The whole thing’s a pack of lies. It’s scandalous that such methods should be used to influence an election.
James Ford.
[To Swalecliffe.] D’you want to read it?
Swalecliffe.
What does it say?
Bennett.
Merely what they phoned down from London.
James Ford.
But it puts it about as hot as I’ve ever seen a financial article.
Etchingham.
D’you think it’ll interfere with the issue?
James Ford.
It’ll bust it.
Etchingham.
Can’t something be done to find Winter?
Boyce.
All we can do is to wait.
Etchingham.
Hang it all, we can’t go on waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Isn’t there one of you who can do something?
James Ford.
Keep your head, man, that’s about the best thing you can do.