PS 3525 .P48 K6 1918 WAR DEPARTMENT Copy 1 :e edition number 9. o S-g g^ I THE KNAVE S MOVE 2 1 2 A Play in One Act "5? O c P K^ C ja «;: •-; t.-^ & BY ^1 >» WILLIAM BROWN MALONEY .;5 s»^ The use of this piece by courtesy of the Author. Dramatic Rights by courtesy of Sanger and Jordan Copyright, 1918, By William Brown Maloney WASHINGTON Commission on Training Camp Activities Department of Dramatic Activities Among the Soldiers. 1918. f;rT f>\3\> )C!.D 5 518 • /IxV >" r ^^ Nk^ ^^THE KNAVE'S MOVE'' ^ ^ By V^rt WILLIAM BEOWN MALONEY THE CAST John Blakely, who has made politics a business. Catherine Blakely, his daughter. John Blakely, Jr., his son. ''Bull'' Edwards, an upper office man. Jimmy Bradstreet, alias ''The Ghost." Note — If the part of Catherine Blakely, daughter, is too difficult to cast, it is suggested that the part be changed to an older brother of John Blakely, Jr. Time: The night before election. Place: The back room of "The Koost," Blakely 's closed saloon. Scene : The room is square. Its furnishings con- sist of six nondescript chairs, an old-fashioned round card-table with a green haize top. On the upstage side of the table stands a high- hack leather-covered office chair. The en- trance to the room is in the hack wall. There are two windows in this wall, one on each side of the door. Their green shades are down. The door opens on stage and to the right. There is another door in the left wall, hut it is a hlind, the wall having heen hoarded up when Blakely sold ''The Roost.'' As the curtain rises, Blakely is discovered in the hig leather chair playing solitaire. His high- crowned derhy hat is tilted hack and a hig hlack, unlighted cigar is hanging from the cor- ner of his mouth. His hrow knits and he throws down the cards with an expression of disgust, sighs heavily, and stares straight ahead of him, rolling the cigar from one cor- 3 ner of his mouth to the other. The door opens noiselessly and the face of Bradstreet appears. His eyes search the room furtively as he stealthily enters. He closes the door and glides down stage to Blakely^s left side. He glances over Blakely's shoulder, studying the cards. Brad. Move the knave — and it's your game. Blake. {As if answering his own thought) The knave — the knave of hearts. Of course, that's the move. {Blake, picks up a card on the left and moves it to a pile on the right). Brad. Now, the game's yours. Boss. {Blake, discovers Brad.'s hand pointing over his shoulder. He starts, drops the card, pushes back his chair and rises in surprise. Brad, ynoves a step to the right, chuckling). Blake. Brad ! Bradstreet ! How — how did you get in here? {Blake, runs a hand across his brow as if coming out of a trance. He glances around the room, and at the door). Brad. {Laughing) The door. Blake. The door was locked. I locked it my- self. Brad. {With a note of pride) Locked doors are a little specialty of mine — or used to be. Blake. I didn't hear you come in. {Blake, moves around his chair to the left side of the table. Brad, comes to center). Brad. I couldn't help trying to see if I'd for- gotten how. {His eyes are never still. He moves like a cat, ever on the alert, ever ready to spring, ever wary and prepared, as if to ward off an at^ tack from behind) I knew you were alone or I wouldn't have come in — the way I did. I've been piping your door from across the street for an hour. T>r.AKE. {Anxiously) You're not in trouble? I'rad. No. Except tryin' to be good's enough 4 trouble for most people. Blake. When did you get out? Brad. This morning. {He takes a cigarette from a silver case and lights it), Blake. I tried hard to spring you; tried every way I knew to make that reform district attorney and the police let up poundin' you. Brad. I know — everything you did for me. I got it all in here. {He strikes Ms hreast) I got a lot in here. Blake. I told 'em you 'd turned a new leaf, and Brad. {Cynically) And they said it had blown back again. Blake. I told 'em you'd been straight a long time: that you'd given me your word to be on the level; that all you needed was a chance to go straight. Brad. And they laughed at you — called me a man-killer and said leopards don't change their spots. Oh, I know. {Brad, spits a whijf of smoke at the air), Blake. But my pull-rope was broken. {Pause) They're figgerin' in this town, Jimmy, that John Biakely's a back number. Brad. Buck up. It's only a new deal — only a new deal. It's the same old deck of cards. It won't last long. These professional reformers can't play together. They're always gummin' their own cards. Blake. {Bitterly) It's come to a helluva turn when a man John Blakely'U stand for has to do six months for smashin' a flat-footed cop in the smeller. Gee, how the ranks fall away from a man when they think he 's lost his grip ! Brad. That 's why I slipped in to-night. I heard you'd closed the saloon and I didn't know what was up. 5 Blake. {Indicating the left) I put the lock on The Roost yesterday morning — {Blake, paces to and fro nervously) — and I don't seem to fit in the new house up town. Brad. (Anxiously) They ain't cleaned you up? It ain't money you need? Blake. No. Money? Bah! Money's the sur- est thing I got. I shut up the saloon for my little girl's sake. Brad. I getcha. I know — women's funny about things. She can't stand the way the papers roasts you. Blake. {Pounding the table) If it wasn't for the boy and the girl, I'd say, to hell with the papers and the reformers. When the kiddies were little I didn't give a damn what anybody said, but now they're grown up an' it's spoilin' their lives. What I am an' all I got is a curse to 'em. They're John Blakely's kids. They can't get away from that — it follows 'em. They're John Blakely's chil- dren — saloonkeeper, political crook — grafter ! Brad. Buck up, John ! You take it too much to heart. Why, you're Blake. I'm what I said. What good's the money ? It can buy everything, but the things you want most. It put the boy in college and — broke his heart. He couldn't stand it any longer. He's come back home broken down in health an' no heart in life — an' him not yet twenty. Brad. Damn the college! He ain't goin' to sell books or life insurance for a livin'. Blake. I know, but that ain't it. He wants to be something better than I am, an' I want him to be. He's broken. He's so sick that I've got to send him out West. Brad. {Startled) Out West? Blake. Yes. Brad. I getcha. I Blake. The doctors say that's where he's got to go if I don't want to lose him. The girl's for all of us goin' together. Brad. That's tough, John. Blake. I suppose I've done some pretty rough things in my time, but I never took anything but clean money. Brad. That's straight. Blake. Now they're sayin' I took dirty money. Brad. (Fiercely) It's a lie! Who's sayin' it? Blake. Oh, that reform leader— that young law- yer feller, Simpson. Eight now he's makin' an- other ''brass-check" speech up in the park. Brad. I 'd kill a man it he said I was low enough to take that kind of graft. Blake. ( With a shudder) Good God ! I couldn 't do that. Besides, killin' doesn't prove anything. I'd rather be dead myself than kill a man. Simp- son's just young — he's put up to it by the gang of psalm-singers behind him. (Pause) Kill? No, no, no. My kids have got to live down enough as it is. Brad. (Starting as if to go) I'll croak him for you. Blake. (Commandingly) Jim! Brad. I know how to shut him up. Blake. (Fiercely) No — no you don't! Brad. I'll get him while he's makin' his lying spiel. Blake. (Catching Brad.) No, you won't. You've got to give me your word right now. Brad. (Freeing hiynself) I ain't no angel. Anybody hurts my friends, hurts me. That's some- thing a good many o' my betters can't say. Blake. (Commandingly) You're not goin' to lift a hand against him or any other man. You've got to give me your word right now. You said you wanted to do something for me — an' now's 7 your chanct. Brad. You ain't fair, John. D'you think I'm goin' to be shot down like a dog by the first cow- ardly bull or crook that comes along? Blake. No, but by God, you've got to give me your word not to lift your hand against any man — except to save your own life. I've got a right to ask this. If it hadn't been for me — you'd have been railroaded to the chair five years ago ! Brad. {Lowering his gaze) You're right. I know — they had me framed for the big leap. (Pause) You've never steered anyway except right, Boss. You 've been a friend when every other hand's been against me. {He holds out his right hand) I'll {There is a quick, nervous knock at the door. Brad, is instantly on the alert. He turns sharply toward the door and bends his head as knocking continues). Blake. I don't want to be bothered to-night. Brad. {In a whisper) That's a woman knock- ing. Blake. How do you know? Brad. Take it from me. {The knocking con- tinues). Blake. See who it is, anyway. Maybe it's some poor devil I can help. Brad. I getcha. {Brad, glides to the door and opens it, conceal- ing himself as he does so. Catherine Blakely en- ters. Brad, recognizes her and closes the door quickly. He removes his hat). Blake. {Astounded) Catherine! {His arms go out to her) Why — what are you doing here? {He leads her down right). Catherine. Where is John? Blake. I — I Catherine. Haven't you heard from him? Blake. No. What — what's the matter, Cather- 8 me ? Catherine. John — he telephoned home fifteen minutes ago. He asked for you. I could hardly understand him. He talked like a crazy man. I told him he would find you here — in the back room of the saloon. He said I'd never see him again. {Blake, moves a step to the right) Oh, father, something has happened! I know it. {She sobs, puts her hands on her father's shoulders and searches his face). Blake. No, no, daughter. What could have happened? {Catherine crosses to left). Catherine. I know something has happened. I feel it. Blake. Calm yourself, Catherine. Certainly nothing has happened. {He starts across stage to her) . Catherine. Oh, yes, it has. I know it. I feel it — I {She discovers Brad. She shrinks) That man! Oh! {She covers her face and shudders. Brad, lowers his head) Father, father {Brad. turns to go). Blake. Don't go. {To Catherine) That's all right, daughter. That's Bradstreet, my friend. Catherine. A — a friend ? No, no ! Blake. A good friend ! Catherine. No, no, don't say that ! He— he has haunted me ever since he killed that man! {She sohs. Blake, takes her in his arms) Oh, father, that is the man the papers call The Ghost. They say he is always around when some one is killed. {Brad, opens the door to go out an^ as he does so John Blakely, Jr., staggers in, bareheaded and breast heaving. Brad, steps behind the door, and as he does so, a heavy Derringer drops out of his sleeve into his right hand. He recognizes John and closes the door quickly). John. {Gasping) Father, father. {Blake, and 9 Catherine start toward the boy, who leans against the table for support), Catherine. John, John! Blake. My boy, my boy ! What is it ? John. They're after me. They're after me. (He glances over his shoulder apprehensively and discovers Brad, standing at the door) It's all right. Ill go with you. Ill go with you. {Brad, moves toward him) Here it is. {John takes a pistol from his coat pocket and hands it to Brad,, who smells it and with a shake of his head drops it in his side pocket). Blake. That's Bradstreet, John. Don't be afraid. Tell me what's happened, boy. What's happened ? John. The police! {Brad, leaps backward to the door and stands with his back to it, the Der- ringer dropping again from his sleeve), Blake. The police? Catherine. John — John — oh, God, what does he mean? John. I — I — killed Blake. Killed! Killed who? John. Simpson. {A low whistle escapes Brad, Blake, recoils with his hands over his eyes, Cath- e7^ine recoils). Brad. Simpson? {John nods slowly in the af- firmative), John. Yes. Blake. My, God, no! Catherine. No — no — no! Don't you believe him ! He didn 't — he couldn 't ! John. Father — listen — I couldn't help it. I heard him say — say — oh, God, everything went black before me, and then I shot him. But I don't care ! I don 't care ! The dog ! He lied — he lied ! My father never took money from the women in the street! Did he? Did he? It was a lie! A 10 lie ! (The hoy seems to be choking as he sinks into his father's chair) . Catherine. My mother in Heaven, take us to you. {Brad, comes down stage. She confronts him) Stand back ! Oh, you murderer ! You man- killer! Don't come near him! {To her father) This is what you have done! — dragged him down — your own son — to this — made a murderer of him ! {Blake, recoils. Brad, shrinks up stage), Blake. Catherine ! Catherine. A murderer of him ! An outcast of him like that man — {indicates Brad.) — a ghost! — a thing of the night and dark places! Blake. Don't, daughter — please don't say those things. Catherine. It's the truth! {Blake covers his face ), It 's the truth ! John. Don't, Catherine — don't! He's not to blame. I did it. {He waves her aside). When I heard that man stand up before that mob in the park and draw a picture of a crook — a grafter — an unspeakable thing who preyed upon unfortunate women — and — and call that thing my father — and I heard the mob shout and cheer — and I knew the big white side of him — and — and knew the lie he was passing — it was more than I could stand. Daddy, I — I — had to do it ! I had to do it ! I had the pistol — the one you gave me to take out West. Simpson said — he said — he said — '^That's Blake- ly's price — a woman's soul!" And he threw a brass check in the air. The crowd cheered and shouted and — and — I shot. There were people pushing every way. The crowd swept me away, and I — I ran. I telephoned from somewhere to you, Catherine — didn 't I ? And then I came here. It was a lie! — {choking) — wasn't it, Daddy? Wasn't it? Blake. Yes. A lie — a damned lie. I never 11 could have looked my children in the face if it was true. John. Then, let them take me. 1 11 — 1 11 go Catherine. No — no — you can't! you mustn't! Father, you must save him. Blake. You can't let 'em take you. They'd crucify you, boy. You're John Blakely's son. That's enough to hang you without a trial. Brad. You wouldn't stand a yellow dog's chanct with these reformers. John. Let 'em have me. I'll give myself up. I don't care if I have to give my life up for it. I'm tired of it all, anyway. {He starts as if to go to the door, staggers, and is about to fall when Blake, catches him and seats him in the leather- covered chair. The knock of a heavy fist sounds at the door. The boy's head falls over in a faint), Catherine. He's fainted! {She leans over him) . Brad. The bulls! {He leaps from the door, de- fensively. The Derringer is in his right hand). Blake. God, Brad — what can I do? {The heavy fist knocks again). Edwards. {Off stage) In the name of the law, open this door! Catherine. {Sobbing) Save him, father! They can 't have him ! They can 't ! He 's only a boy — a little boy — all we have. You Brad. Give me a chanct to think — hard — hard. {Brad, presses his left hand to his brow tensely, his eyes searching the room. He starts as he sees the door in the left wall) Where does this lead? Blake. It's a blind. Boarded up yesterday when I sold the saloon. {Brad, glides to the table down stage. Again the knock is heard and the knob is rattled). Edwards. {Off stage) Open this door, in the name of the law. 12 Brad. A rat trap ! {His eyes are everywhere at once. They rest on the hoy for a second. He starts) That boy's got to have a hat on. {He jams Ms own hat on John's head and, facing down stage, rips open his collar and dishevels Ms hair. He tears open his vest and darts up stage to the door) . Blake. What are you doin'? Goin' to let those wolves in here for my boy? {Blake, starts toward Brad.) Brad. It's the only thing left to do. {He swings open the door, concealing himself as he does so. Edwards enters, carrying a soft gray felt hat in his left hand and a pistol in Ms right hand. He does not discover Brad., who closes the door noiselessly behind him). Edwards. {In surprise) Why — why, I thought you'd sold out. {He glances over his shoulder and discovers Brad. He hacks to the left a step, cover- ing Brad., whose chest is heaving as if he had heen running hard and fast) The Ghost! I thought you were Brad. I got out this morning- Edwards. There was a shooting up in the park, a while ago, Mr. Blakely. The man who did it made his getaway in this block. {Edivards discov- ers the unconscious hoy in the chair). Blake. Well, what 'd you think you 'd find here ? {Edwards' gaze meets Blake.' s triumphantly and then shifts to the hoy). Edwards. I found this hat outside the door. Look at it. Ever see it before? {He tosses the hat across the tahle) Recognize the initials? Blake. {Starting) No. {Catherine sohs) ^'J. — B." Catherine. Oh, father Edwards. It ain't your father's hat, Miss. Brad. No — it's mine. {Catherine starts). Blake. Brad, you can't — you didn't Brad. I couldn't stay straight. It ain't in a crook. Edwards. {Doubtfully) The hat Brad. I getcha. I know you can 't believe I was ever boob enough to let 'em put my initials in my lid, but I did, all right — Jimmy Bradstreet — me, ''J. B." Here's the cannon. {He takes John^s pistol from Ms pocket and hands it to Edwards, who smells it. Brad, takes the hat from Blake) I was after a stool-pigeon of yours up in the park, Edwards — not the reform guy. I'm sorry I pilled him. Is — is he dead ? Edwards. No — he isn't. A wallet in his pocket stopped the bullet. {Blake, starts), Blake. Thank God ! Edwards. Will you come along without a fight ? Brad. I will. I'm ready. I've caused enough trouble around here to-night — frightened the young lady and the sick boy so he's fainted. Blake. No — no, Brad! You Brad. What's the difference? I'm a crook, or that's my label. I'm lucky not to be goin' to the chair — not to have gone long ago. Edwards. You betcher are. Brad. When you begin your line crooked it's never a straight line. {He looks down at the hoy) You've got to begin straight or the chances are all against you. Blake. You're the straightest man I know. Brad, but, good God, man! — you can't — I can't let Brad. It's all right. Boss. You can help me later, but I'd better be going along now. Edwards. Yes, you come along. Sorry {he catches Brad, quickly) Stick up your hooks, there. {Brad, raises his hands and Edwards searches him without result) Only one gun? Brad. That's all. 14 Edwards. You always carried two. Brad. I Ve reformed. Edwards. Come on, then. Blake. You can't take Mm. Brad never shot that man. I know he didn't. I — I Catherine. Father ! Brad. No use your bluffln', John. He's got me right. You're a good friend. I had the gun. He found my hat; the man who did it's here. You didn't do it. Miss Catherine didn't do it — the boy — why, he's so sick he can't lift his head. See, he's fainting again. {John moves in the chair and tries to sit up, hut faintness overcomes him. Catherine puts her arm around him and looks at Brad, ap- pealingly), Catherine. Oh, Mr. Bradstreet. I'm so sorry —I— I Blake. Let me have a minute with Bradstreet. Take my word, it'll be all right. Edwards. {Hesitating) All right, Boss. Your word's good enough. {He glances around the room) There's no getaway here. {Exit Edwards), Blake. Good God, Brad! — this is terrible. It's cowardly for me to let you do it. I can't — the boy wouldn't Brad. It would kill him to go up, John. He needn't know it. Get him out of town to-night. I owe my life to you, and this is only a little thing. Here {He pulls up his right coat sleeve and unfastens the Derringer, which is hanging there by a garter) I mustn't be caught with this. A turn more or less doesn't count with a record like mine — but it would finish him. He's clean and straight — I 'm only a crook. Catherine. No, no ! — forgive all I said. You're brave — true! What can I do? Oh, the horror of it! Brad. Little lady, this is the straightest, best 15 thing IVe ever done in my life. You mustn't be cut up about my doing this. It'll start me right with myself again. I'll be a better man for doing what you and John Blakely call brave. I— I Edwards. (Opening the door) Come on, you! {The boy lifts Ms head and opens his eyes. Blake, stands swaying. Catherine sinks to her knees, soh- hing, at the boy's side). Brad. Coming. iiiiiS«Li^iU™S 015 992 236 4 t 16 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 992 236 4