2371 [ POST FREE "I CH In Great Britain only IMS! 15 GENTS. [FRENCH'S ACTING EDITION WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? (GILBERT DAYLE.) The AMATEUR FEE for each representation of this piece is 33s., payable in advance to SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd., 26, Southampton Street, Strand, London, W.C. Low don : SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. , PUBLISHERS, 26, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND. NjSW YORR: SAMUEL FRENCH, PUBLISHER, 28, WEST 38th STREET. ) BELFAST- J. Nicholson. 26, Church Lane. BIRMINGHAM- James Guest, 12, Snow Hill. W.H. Smith & Sox, 34, Union St BRADFORD- W. H. Smith & Son. 5, Dale Street. BRISTOL- B. Toleman, 2, Rupert Street. DUBLIN- Morrow's Library,12,Nassau St. EDINBURGH— H. Robinson, 111-115, Lelth St. GLASGGW- Wm. Lovb. 221 , Argyle Street. LFEDS- R. Jackson, 18, Commercial St. LIVERPOOL— J. Burkinshaw & Sons, 28-30, Colquitt Street. MANCHESTER- John Hkywood, Deansgate and Ridgefield. NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE- Thomas Allan, 18 & 20, Blackett Street. PLYMOUTH- W. 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With a view to obviate the great difficulty experienced by Amateurs (par- ticularly in country houses) in obtaining Scenery, Ac, to Bx in a Drawing Room, and then only by considerable outlay for hire and great damage caused to walls, we have decided to keep a series of Coloured Scenes Mounted on Canvas with roller, or they can be had unmounted on thirty sheets of strong pape* and can be joined together or pasted on canvas or wood, according to require ment. Full directions, with diagrams shewing exact size of Back Scenes, Borders, and Wings, can be had free on application. The following scenes are kept in utock. Kept in two sizes. The size of the back scene of the smaller one is nearly 10 feet long and 6* feet high, and extends with the Wings and Border to 16 feet long and 8 feet high. The back scene of the large one is 13 feet long and 9 feet high and extends with the Wings and Border to 20 feet long and 11* ieet high. It is not necessary to have the scene the height of the room, as blue paper to represent sky is usually to have the hung at the top. Small Size, with Wings and Border complete, unmounted Ditto, mounted Large Size, with Wings and Border complete unmounted Ditto, mounted Blue Paper 20 inches by 30, per sheet . . ~ & a, 1 10 3 3 2 4 4 Kept in two sizes, same as the Garden Scene, and at similar price. "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " By Gilbert Dayle Produced at the Apollo Theatre, London, September 20, 1902. PRESS OPINIONS " When Mr. Gilbert Davie's play commenced its career it was flattered with the most tempestuous approval, and was a decided success." — Daily Telegraph. " An enjoyable comedy. A genuine old-time success was earned by Mr. Gilbert Dayle's new comedy at the Apollo Theatre on Saturday evening."— Daily Mail. " The whole thing is pleasant. The plot is good ; the play mightily pleased the audience." — Morning Post. " A bright, pleasant and diverting entertainment." — Daily News. " Some of the best lines in the piece did much to secure the favourable verdict passed upon the production on Satur- day." — Daily Chronicle. " The play can indeed be seen with pleasure." — Daily Graphic. " The author and the company were repeatedly called for and cheered on Saturday evening, and the play was received with every mark of appreciation." — Sporting Life. " An entire success." — Morning Leader. " There can surely be no mistake about Saturday night's audience in the Apollo Theatre. Spontaneous enthusiasm possessed it, and Mr. Tom B. Davis has begun his newest management with a brilliant success." — Financial News. " There was no doubt about the cordial reception which the play met with on Saturday night." — -Financial Times, " Mr. Gilbert Dayle fixed upon two excellent ideas as a basis for his play. He has discovered good material, and has used it effectively." — Pall Mall Gazette. " ' What would a Gentleman Do ? ' will add to the nation's gaiety." — -5/. James's Gazette. " An Apollo success. It would be possible to ascribe many reasons for the pleasant interest associated with the produc- tion at the Apollo Theatre." — Sun. " If any one would like to give his friends a treat, he may safely take them to the Apollo Theatre — that is what a gen- tleman would do ! " — Referee. " The play delighted a crowded house, and thoroughly deserved the reception accorded it." — Sunday Special. " ' What would a Gentleman Do ? ' by Mr. Gilbert Dayle, who writes with point, and no slight humour, and tells an exceedingly entertaining stor)^ introducing several excellent character studies. It is a pleasure to record the unmistak- able success of the play." — Weekly Times. WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? All applications respecting the performance of this play, professional or amateur, must be addressed to the sole agents : — Messrs. Samuel French, Ltd., 26, Southampton Street, Strand, London. The Amateur Fee of Three Guineas each and every representation must be paid prior to performance and a written authority obtained. Professional terms by arrangement. WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO? AN ORIGINAL THREE-ACT PLAY By GILBERT DAYLE Copyright, 19 10, by Samuel French, Ltd. New York SAMUEL FRENCH Publisher London SAMUEL FRENCH Ltd 26 Southampton Street 28-30 WEST 3 Sth STREET I STRAND •V* Any costumes, wigs or properties required in the performance of "What Would a Gentleman Do?" may be hired or purchased reasonably from Messrs. C. H. Fox, Ltd., 27 Wellington Street, Strand, London. Scenery may also be arranged through this firm. feCID 22622 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" Produced on September 20th, 1902, at the Apollo Theatre, London with the following Cast: — Colonel Sir Bruce Retired. Kederby C.B., V.C. Madge Kederby His daughter. Hartley Quayne A Solicitor. Sir Christopher Wynne. Lady Nora Her- ^ Friends of the „ VEY ' • * I Kederbys. Dolly Banter . J J Ronald Kederby Sir Bruce's son. Miss Agatha Ke- His sister. DERBY. RODD .... Geoffrey Seaton Dickie Hook Servant at the Grange. and Mr. J. H. Barnes. Miss Nina Boucicault. Mr. Charles Garry. Mr. Frank Mills. J Miss Spencer Brunton. I Miss Beatrice Ferrar. Mr. Barrington Foote. Miss Marie Illington. Mr. Fred. Emney. Mr. Dennis Eadie. Mr. W . Louis Bradfield. SCENERY Act I. Morning room at Bar stone Grange. Morning. Act II. Conservatory at Barstone Grange. Evening. Act III. Same as Act I. 3 months later. Morning. Time : The Present. Backcloth showing garden. French windows. Fireplace Tahle & chairs L.2.E. R.I.E. Piano Morning Boom at Bars tone Grange. " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " ACT I Scene. — Morning room of Barsione Grange, the coun- try residence of Colonel Sir Bruce Kederby. It is a well-furnished room with several Indian curios about. Wide French windows open on to the garden up stage L .and handsome doorways form L.2.E. and r.i.e. The fireplace is in the corner of the room up stage R., and a piano stands against the wall down stage l. On the wall over the fireplace is a large framed picture of Madge Kederby, and above it a sword with scabbard. In the centre of the room is a small square table on which is standing a large bowl of flowers, red and white. Flowers of the same colour are also about the room in profusion. Against the wall R. is a large writing desk with chair before it. (The curtain rises on an empty stage. Almost imme- diately Rodd enters L.2.E., ushering in Quayne. Rodd is an upright old man with grizzled grey hair, and an artificial leg, which causes him to walk stiffly. He is a veteran soldier turned servant in his Colonel's employ. He wears a red and white buttonhole, and has three medals pinned to his breast. Quayne is a well-dressed smart-looking man of about thirty -five.) Rodd. This way, sir. Quayne (crossing table c. and taking off his gloves). Well, Rodd, and how do you find yourself ? 10 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. Rodd (facing Quayne, thumping his chest and drawing himself tip). Never better, sir — bar, o' course, the leg. As full of fire as the day I followed the Colonel to Vallapore, and he led us 'ome. (Waving his arm impressively.) Twenty-five years ago to-day, sir, and both me and the Colonel alive to tell the tale. Twenty-five years, sir. Quayne (smiling). Ah, of course— it's the anni- versary of Vallapore. (Sitting R. of table, indicating flowers on the table) Some one who remembered sent these to him ? Rodd (scornfully). Some one who remembered ! Remember Vallapore in this house — where I am ? No, sir, the day the Colonel carved 'is page on Tstory, and won 'is V.C., ain't likely to be forgotten whilst I'm about, and Miss Madge, bless 'er, don't want any reminding. She alwus decorates the place with his favourite flowers, and she was down early this morn- ing seein' to them. (Looks lovingly at his own button- hole.) And she gave me these with 'er own dainty little 'ands and says, " Rodd, you were there too," and I said, " And a thundering good job for some of 'em that I was, miss." (Nods his head knowingly and chuckles, suddenly looking tip.) Ah, you want to see the Colonel — of course ! (He marches across and fetches morning paper, and returns with it to Quayne.) (Quayne has dropped into a chair by the table.) He won't be more than a minute — I'll fetch him, sir, I'll fetch him. (He turns and stumps jauntily round the table towards French windows. A few feet from the windows he suddenly lunges his leg forward and does a few strokes with an imaginary sword. Quayne looks round, whereupon Rodd hastily recovers himself, saying hurriedly, " Pardon, sir, pardon — twenty- five years ago to-day," then resumes his walk to the windows. Act 1.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " Ashe gains the path the Colonel appears on it, an sees Quayne in room.) (Rodd stands at the salute till his master passes, then pulls out his red silk handkerchief and, nodding admiringly at the Colonel's back, waves it tri- umphantly and disappears along the path) (The Colonel is a spruce-looking elderly man with close-cropped white hair ; he is attired in light sum- mer suit, and wears a flower of the prevailing colour. He enters the room.) Colonel (looking at his watch.) My dear Quayne, the last stroke has scarcely died away. (Shaking hands.) I couldn't keep an appointment so punctu- ally to save my life. Quayne (smiling). There was just one you kept, Sir Bruce, was there not ? Colonel. Can't recall it. Quayne. I think you made it early in the morn- ing of a day, just twenty-five years ago. You sent a message saying that at eight o'clock that evening you would join the officers of the besieged garrison at Vallapore — how you kept that appointment is, I believe, fairly well known. Colonel (going up l.c). Ah, that rascal, Rodd, has been at it again. Every anniversary it's the same — it's Vallapore with him all day long. He wears his medals, and thinks and babbles over it from the moment he comes down sober in the morning till the inordinately late hour at which he goes drunk to bed at night. And I can't cure him of it. Quayne. It's a thing an Englishman rather likes to remember. Colonel (at top of table a). It's devilish embar- rassing to have such an enthusiast about the place. Why, last year we had a crowd here, and before the afternoon, do what I could to keep him quiet, the 12 ' WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act T. ruffian had the whole lot of 'em talking Vallapore — until at last some one made the atrocious remark that it never rained but it Vallapored. (Quayne laughs / Colonel seats himself at table and assumes a business-like air.) (With a sigh.) Well, what's the latest ? I suppose you have some more bad news. Quayne (sitting down opposite). I'm afraid it isn't very cheerful. As I predicted, you will have to throw still more good money after bad' — in short, you have to pay the full liability of the shares you took in the Company. Colonel (nodding). How much does it tot up to? Quayne (showing him the notice). Five thousand odd. Colonel (turning away bitterly). Good Lord ! (He gets up and stares despondently round the room — after a pause). Yes, there's no help for it this time — the place will have to go. (Sighs and remains buried in thought for a moment, then rouses himself and turns abruptly to Quayne.) There's a terrible lot of truth in that little remark about the " Shoemaker sticking to his last," Quayne. If, when I retired, I had let my private capital remain in Consols, instead of being persuaded by Graham to invest the whole of it in his confounded steel company, I shouldn't have been in the mess I am now. (Up l.c.) Quayne. It certainly was a most unfortunate speculation. Colonel (coming down l. of table). Unfortunate ! It was the worst thing I've ever done in my life. In six months every penny has been drained out of me, and I've had a hard struggle to keep my head above water and, as you know, Quayne, I've had to sacrifice my pride considerably. Quayne. You are referring to Mr. Hook ? ActL] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO?" 13 (Colonel nods.) Oh, there is really nothing in that, Sir Bruce. It's merely a matter of convenience to both parties. On one side, a good-looking young man of little birth or education, who has suddenly sprung into a large fortune, who is socially ambitious, and who is willing to pay heavily for any chance of improving his posi- tion. On the other side Colonel. Sir Bruce Kederby, who, little as people suspect it, is practically ruined, sooner than go under at once, he accepts the unutterable bounder's terms and has him to live with him as a friend and introduce him in that character to his neighbours. Quayne, I have despised myself for doing it every moment since, and if it hadn't been to keep the Grange for Madge and the boy in the army, I would have gone to the gutter first. (Down L. and back.) Quayne (cheerfully). I don't think you ought to look at it in that light, Sir Bruce. Why, quite a lot of people do that sort of thing nowadays. Colonel (grimly). Hitherto the Kederbys have refrained from the amusement. (Bitterly.) And, after all, it has been no use. This final five thousand pounds will be totally impossible to find. The place '11 have to go ! Quayne. Have you no relatives — or friends ? Colonel (firmly). None, none to whom I would go, Quayne. No, there is no help for it. Quayne (with a sigh). It's a pity. (Rises.) Colonel. Yes, it's always a pity when one's ruined. I don't mind myself so much — it's (Madge's voice is heard outside on path, laughing. Colonel puts a finger to his lips. Madge enters through windows. She is a pretty girl of about twenty, attired in a white summer dress and a sun hat. She crosses to Quayne.) Madge (shaking hands with him). Good-morning, U ."WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. Mr. Quayne. Have you been trying to make father a business man ? Colonel. That would be an impossible feat, my dear ! (Half aside.) My own efforts in that direction have had somewhat poor results. Quayne. And what have you been doing, Miss Madge ? Madge (laughing). I promised to teach Mr. Hook how to play tennis. This is his third lesson, and he beat his instructor. (Hook appears at windows. He is a man of about twenty-four , attired in a light flannel suit. In his buttonhole he wears a red and white flower. A straw hat and a tennis racquet complete his outfit. His whole appearance is suggestive of a bounder ish type. He looks fairly well, but when excited, attends to his H's with an effort. He comes into the room mopping his forehead.) Hook. Hullo, Quayne, how are you ? (Shakes hands with him, then drops into a chair.) I've had a hot half hour tennis playing with Miss Madge — but it's all right- — I'm through with it — I'm a tennis player — the real article, eh, Miss Madge ? Madge (smiling). You've certainly beaten me, but then there are others far better, you know. Colonel. Miss Dolly Banter, for example. Hook (springing to his feet, waving his racquet). Bring 'em along, Hook's ready to meet all comers. (Makes a cut at an imaginary ball.) How's that for a volley ? Quayne. Magnificent ! You'd get six for a lost ball, I should say. (Madge has crossed to Colonel and they have been talking together, he with his arm affectionately round her waist. Rodd appears on path and marches jauntily into room. Draws himself up to stiff atten- tion before the Colonel and salutes.) Colonel (sitting down l.). Well, what is it, Rodd ? Act I.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 15 Rodd (l.c). The vicarage orderly, sir, has brought a message, which he wishes to deliver personally to you. He would not entrust it to the Intelligence Department. (Indicating himself.) Madge. I thought you were generally the com- missariat officer, Rodd ? Rodd. I'm everything to-day, miss. And I would call to mind that on that day of days, miss, twenty-five Colonel (stopping him with a gesture). That will do, please, Rodd. Where is the vicarage man ? Rodd. Within the lines — just on the lawn. The Intelligence Department has a shrewd inkling that " flowers for the church " is at the bottom of his manoeuvres. Colonel (laughing). All right, Rodd, then you had better come too, Madge. (Bus. Rodd, he salutes and marches away. Colonel looks after him and shakes his head.) He's got it worse than ever to-day. Madge (slipping her arm through her father's). I'm glad he has, and I just love him for it. (Giving his arm a hug.) Oh, if you only knew how proud I am of you. (Colonel bends down and kisses her on the forehead, then looks towards Quayne and Hook, who are chatting together at table) Colonel. I'll be back in a minute, Quayne. You will be able to entertain yourself with your other client, I know. Quayne (taking a step or so towards them). Cer- tainly, Sir Bruce. Please don't hurry. (Colonel and Madge exit through windows and along path.) 16 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? ' [Act I. Hook goes to window and watches Madge disappear. Quayne turning, sees Hook still staring along the path. Hook comes slowly down stage to table.) Quayne. Well, Mr. Hook, are you satisfied with your bargain ? Hook (looking round thoughtfully in direction Madge has gone, then suddenly rousing himself). Satisfied — I should just think I was, about ! Quayne, it's been a glorious success. I can never thank you enough for thinking of the idea, and arranging for me to come here. It was the finishing touch I wanted. Quayne. Your ambitions, then, are gratified ? Hook. No, they ain't ; they're only just begin- ning. But before I make a start, I had to be a gentleman — and that meant hard work. Quayne (dryly). It always is a somewhat difficult proceeding. Hook. Yes, but I'm through with it now ; and Richard Hook, Esquire, will pass muster with most gentlemen in the land. (Facing Quayne.) You know what I was when your agent hunted me out in Melbourne, and told me I'd been left a pile. Quayne. I only remember it was honest em- ployment. Hook. Yes, honest ; but low down- — precious low down in the scale. And now here I am, enjoying my money, mixing with a real good set. Some of 'em in my shoes would have kept low, and flashed their money away. But I knew better ; I made up my mind to be a gentleman, and I've done it. (Rising, crossing l.) Quayne. You certainly acted very wisely. Hook (down l.). I didn't know how to behave — what good class people do, and what they don't. But it can be all found out by observation. I watched 'em, and soon fell into it myself. What's the result — Sir Bruce takes me everywhere and introduces me as his friend, and I can tell from his manner he isn't ashamed of me — he likes doing it. Act I.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 17 Quayne. I am glad you are satisfied. Hook. Of course, he'd do it anyhow — it's our bargain, and he's paid for it. But what pleases me is to feel it isn't a trial to him. It makes me sure of my feet, and if anything does crop up and I'm not quite certain, well, I've always got this with me. (Draws a little thin book from his pocket.) Quayne. Why, what is it ? Hook. Don't you know ? (Holding it up.) The Complete Gentleman ; it tells you everything — from what to do with finger glasses at dinner down to how to chat at a funeral. It's just splendid ; any one who read it through couldn't help being a gentleman — no matter what he was when he started. Quayne. A marvellous little book, it puts gen- tility within reach of us all. Hook (dropping into a chair, in self-satisfied tones). I wouldn't be without it for a fortune — it's made my life happy. Quayne. • Have you made any more plans, Mr. Hook? Hook. I shall stop here. I'm very comfortable, and it suits me. I'm making heaps of friends, and being asked everywhere. I'm expanding, Quayne. (Putting book in pocket.) Quayne (looking at him narrowly). In the course of that expansion, is it possible you will marry ? Hook. Shouldn't wonder, Quayne, shouldn't won- der. How much am I worth ? (Crossing his legs.) Quayne. Something a little over two hundred thousand pounds. Hook. That's a lot of money, ain't it ? And it's all solid — all there — good stuff ? Quayne. Government securities. Hook (rises). Well, look here, I could afford to marry a lady, couldn't I ? A real lady. Quayne (smiling). Yes, even a real lady. Hook (gets up and lays a hand on the Solicitor's shoulder). Then I shouldn't be astonished, Quayne, 18 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. if you heard of my being engaged to a real lady — the realest little lady going. (Enter Madge and Colonel r.i.e.) Madge (crossing to Quayne). You ought to see our flowers, Mr. Quayne — they're lovely just now. Quayne (taking up his gloves). Thank you, but I'm afraid I must be going, Miss Madge. Colonel. I thought you would stay to lunch, Quayne ; we are expecting the boy at any moment. Quayne. I ought to be getting back, Sir Bruce. Colonel. Well, anyway, come for a stroll with me first. I haven't finished my talk with you. Quayne (walking towards windows, joining Col- onel). Delighted, Sir Bruce. (Exit together along path.) Madge (looking after Colonel admiringly — to Hook). Don't you think my father one of the nicest men in the world, Mr. Hook ? (Going to piano.) Hook (nodding). A real good sort, Miss Madge — a man you'd go through fire and water for, and be very gkd to do it. Madge (enthusiastically, down to piano l.). Like Rodd says the men of the 21st Hussars were ready to do at Vallapore. (She sits on music stool down stage L. Hook is stand- ing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, survey- ing her back. She turns round to him.) All the Kederbys have been soldiers, Mr. Hook. Hook (r.c., slowly). You think it the only pro- fession for a man ? Madge (looking at the photograph of a young man above the piano). I don't know that I Hook. I suppose the man you marry will have to be one ? Madge (taking the frame and wiping a speck from the glass with her handkerchief, bending over it). I Act I.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 19 don't think I am so bigotted as that. If I realty loved a man, I should not mind what he was. (She is looking at the piano intently.) (A quick eager look comes over Hook's face ; he makes a movement as if to suddenly speak, then turns the other way with a gesture — as if he can find no words. Madge half glances over her shoulder, sees Hook's back turned to her, then gently kisses the photograph and puts it back on the piano. She lets her hands stray over the piano, plays a bar or two, then sud- denly swings round on the music stool) [Seated at piano.) It is nice to think Ronald has got a whole week's leave ; I do hope he will come soon. I have been counting the hours ever since we heard. Hook. I suppose you are very proud of him ? Madge. Proud of Ronald, I should think we were ! I, Rodd, and father most of all. He's only a subaltern, not but that he's going to be at the top of the tree. He's ever so clever. Hook (shaking his head). That's against him — in the army. (Rodd enters excitedly c. from L.) Rodd [up l.c). Pardon, Miss Madge — must tell you — Mr. Ronald is coming up the path. (Marches excitedly towards windows, swinging round.) And he's getting to look, miss, just like his blessed father did when I first noo 'im. (Madge slips off seat and runs towards the window.) Here 'e is, miss, 'ome on Anniversary Day, too ! Hip, hip (Brings out his red handkerchief to wave, but crams it back hastily and assumes a stiff attitude with hand at the salute, as Ronald Kederby enters. He is a young fellow of about twenty, attired in tweed suit, somewhat pale.) 20 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act T. Ronald (kissing Madge). Well, little girl, how are you ? Hullo, Hook ? And old Rodd, too ! (Shaking him by the hand.) I see you've got 'em all on again. (Pointing to medals.) Rodd. Day of days, sir. (Ronald nods.) 'Ope you'll have a good collection yourself, sir, before long. (Exit through windows.) Madge. Ronald, is anything the matter ? How worried you look. Ronald (shaking his head and forcing a smile). I did not sleep very well last night — it's nothing. And how have you been getting on, Hook ? (Shakes hands with him.) Hook. Oh, I've done a little bit of everything, and done it well since I saw you last. Madge. Did you see father as you came through the garden, Ronald ? Ronald. No, dear. Madge (going up stage). I'll run out and tell him — he'll want to see you at once. Ronald (going up stage too). I'll come along with you, or rather, I'll follow you in a minute — I just want to speak to Hook. (She takes a flower from her belt and puts it in his coat ; he kisses her and she runs off laughing.) (He watches her disappear, then turns and strides down stage — his expression has changed — he is pale and anxious.) (Blurting the words out.) There is no time to lose — I want to know, Hook, if you'll do me a favour ? (Sits L. of table.) Hook. Of course. Out with it. .Act I.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?." 21 (Ronald sitting down l. side of table with bowed head. •Hook is watching him other end.) Ronald. I'm in a horrible mess, Hook, and I've got to bolt. Hook. As bad as that ? (Walking to mantelpiece.) Ronald. Yes, as bad as that ! I felt I must just come down to see them once before I left — I'm not going back to the regiment. What I want you to do is to break it gently to them after I've gone. Tell them the reason. You'll do it ? Hook. Yes, but what's the trouble — money ? Ronald. Yes, the usual kind — oh, I've been an awful fool, Hook. Hook. I know that — blurt it out ! Ronald. It started some time ago when I got leave, and instead of coming home I went up to town. I got into a quick set and started card playing. The usual thing, I was young, inexperienced ; they made it their life. I lost more money than I could pay, and gave a bill. I went on trying to pull back my losses, and got deeper in still. Now there's a bill with my name to it out, for quite a hopeless amount — and they're pressing for payment. Hook. And you think making a bolt is the easiest way out ? Ronald. What else can I do ? You know the governor has no money, or else Hook (sits r. table). Else I shouldn't be here ? I understand. Go on. Ronald. He's already given me every penny he can spare and more, bless him ! It would be quite impossible for him to find this money. And I won't ask him. Directly it gets to the Colonel's ears, I shall be kicked out of the regiment. It's better to leave than be kicked out ! Hook. I suppose it is ; what do you intend to do ? Ronald. Oh, I don't know — get right away — 22 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. make a clean start ! Oh, my God, Hook, it will break the governor's heart — and little Madge's. Hook (watching him thoughtfully, rising and going up R.) Yes, it'll break her heart sure enough ! Ronald. Still there's no other way. I must go, and you'll tell 'em as gently as possible ? (Utters a sob, brushes his hand across his eyes shamefacedly , to Hook.) I'm not thinking so much of myself as the governor and Hook {thoughtfully). Yes, yes ! (Looking up abruptly.) How much is it ? Ronald. Close on a thousand in all. (He sinks down into a chair again, and buries his face in an attitude of despair. Hook crosses quietly to desk R., and sitting down before it takes up pen. He pulls out his cheque book) and writes cheque ; then gets up and crosses to Ronald, behind table.) Hook. Seems a bit of a pity you should bolt ; it isn't altogether necessary, is it ? (Touches him on the shoulder. Ronald looks up, mechanically takes the cheque Hook presses into his hand. Hook sits r. of table, picks up paper.) Ronald (springing up). What's this, Hook ? Hook (gruffly). I don't like the job of breaking bad news. Let me off with this instead ! Ronald. It's awfully good of you ; but I can't take it from you. Hook (with assumed fierceness). Why not, is it because you don't think I am a gentleman ? Ronald. No, no, of course not ! I can't, because — I have no chance of paying it back — because — well, I've been a fool, and ought to suffer for it. (Goes l.) Hook. But ought the others to suffer too ? Think of Sir Bruce — think of what your career means to him — think of Madge. It isn't much use breaking her heart, is it ? ActL] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 23 Ronald (goes l. a little). I can't ! It isn't right when I can't pay it back. Hook (fiercely). I don't want it back, hang you ! (Pauses — softly — Madge's voice heard off r.) For her sake ! (Hook holds out hand, Ronald suddenly springs up and takes it.) Ronald. God bless you, Hook ! Hook. She is never to know — promise ! Ronald. I promise ! (Exit Hook hurriedly L.2.E.) (Ronald folds cheque and places it hastily in his pocket, then turns and goes up stage to meet Colonel, who enters with Madge and Quayne.) Colonel (shaking hands warmly). My dear boy, why didn't you come out to me ? Ronald (aivkwardly) . I've been talking to Hook ! Colonel (turning aside, dryly). I'm hardly flat- tered ! Olayne (conies down R., shaking hands). I am told we are to expect great things of you, Mr. Kederby. Madge. Don't blush, Ronnie. We have been telling Mr. Quayne what you did at Sandhurst. Ronald (to Madge). I am afraid you do a great deal too much talking about me ! Wait until I dis- appoint you. Colonel (putting his arm on his shoulder). You're not going to disappoint us, my boy. You're going to carry the Kederby name further than it's been before ! Quayne (smiling). You will have your work cut out, Mr. Ronald. Remember Vallapore ! (Colonel shakes his head at him reproachfully.). Ronald (turning away, speaking with an effort). I'll do my best ! (Walking up to Madge l. of table.) 24 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. (Colonel going down stage l. Quayne moves after him.) Colonel. I'm proud of him, Quayne ; and he's in my old regiment too ! {Turning suddenly to Ronald, who with Madge is still near the window) Oh, Ronald, have you got that little photograph of the barracks I asked you about ; I want to show it to Quayne. (Ronald opens his coat and brings out a pocket book ; as he pulls it out, Hook's cheque flutters to the ground behind him. He searches amongst the papers and finds the photo whilst crossing to Colonel. Madge meanwhile has picked up cheque, sees what it is, look of bewilderment ; then as Ronald turns to her again, she puts her hands behind her. Colonel and Quayne examine photo.) Colonel. It's very good, Ronnie, boy. There are my old quarters, see, Quayne ? Quayne. Splendidly clear ! (Colonel lays it on the table. Quayne pulls out his watch) I really must catch the twelve train, Sir Bruce. I have such a thing as an office and clerks to look after, you know ! Colonel. If you must go then, I'll see you through the grounds ; but you're coming to-night to dinner ? Quayne. Thank you, it's very kind of you, Sir Bruce. But I still have the friend I introduced to you the other morning staying with me. Colonel. Oh, Mr. Seaton. He comes from Aus- tralia, didn't you say ? Well, bring him along with you. Dare say he'd like a yarn with Hook. Quayne. Well, I have a late appointment to-day, and could hardly manage dinner ! May we come over afterwards ? Act I.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 25 Colonel. Of course, any time, as long as you come. (Quayne says good-bye to Ronald and Madge, then makes his exit with Colonel along path.) (Ronald goes down stage, Madge follows.) Madge (stopping within a yard of his back, half fearfully). Ronnie ! Ronald. Well, what is it, little girl ? Madge (r. of table, holding cheque out). This dropped to the ground when you were looking for the photo. I couldn't help seeing what it was. (He gives a start, and takes it from her. He thrusts it in his pocket, then turns away.) (Creeping up to him and touching him on the arm.) What does it mean, Ronnie — a cheque for a thousand pounds given by Mr. Hook to you ? Ronald (after a pause, stammering). I — he — it was a matter of business. Madge (staring hard into his confused face, then dropping a step back). You are keeping something from me, Ronnie ? (He does not answer.) Ronnie, dear, are you in trouble ? I don't like to think Ronald (turning suddenly to her). Since you've seen the cheque, I suppose it can't be helped — I promised not to tell ! Madge dear, I've been an awful fool — I don't know how to tell you. Madge. Yes, yes ! Ronald (brokenly). I've been gambling. (She starts back, frightened.) I owed more than I could possibly pay — I was going to run away. Madge. Run away ! B 26 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. Ronald. What else could I have done ? I should have been disgraced, thrown out of the Service. I asked Hook to break it to you ; instead he gave me this. Madge. You took money from him, when you cannot pay it back ? Ronald. I know ; I couldn't have done it if he hadn't made me think what it meant to the governor — to you ! Madge. Why didn't you go to father ; he would, have given you the money. Ronald. He would if he could, but he hasn't got a penny ! Madge. What do you mean ? Ronald. You will have to know some time or other. By an unfortunate speculation he has lost all his private money ; he did not tell you, as he did not want to worry you. Why, to keep me in the Service he has already made a tremendous sacrifice (turns away R.) — had Hook here. Madge. What has Mr. Hook being here got to do with it ? Ronald. He keeps the place going — that's all. (Bitterly,) Is he the class of man likely to be the close friend of the family ? Madge. Do you mean he pays to be here ? Ronald. That's it. He's a man of no birth, suddenly become rich. He wanted to get into good society, and the governor, sooner than I should have to give up the Service, had him here. Madge. Poor father ! (Crosses to l.c.) Ronald (r. of table). With his pride, it was a tremendous sacrifice ! I feel a cur, Madge ; yet what could I do ? Madge. And he gave you this money, knowing you could not pay it back ? Ronald. Yes ; he insisted. Madge. Oh, why ? Why ? Ronald. He's a sort of rough diamond, I suppose. Act I.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 27 Madge (sits l. of table). But to think we owe this man a thousand pounds ! How can he be repaid ? Ronald. He doesn't want it ! He has more money than he knows what to do with. He did it from pure kindness of heart. Madge. All the same, it's a debt. (Colonel's voice is heard off. " Ronald, come along out.") Ronald (answering). All right, father! (To Madge.) Coming, Madge ? (Goes up l.c.) Madge (shaking her head). No, Ronnie, I'd like to be alone — I want to think. Ronald (coming back, suddenly catching hold of her hand). Don't think I don't feel it, Madge. It has been a lesson to me ; it'll keep me straight for the rest of my life ! Only don't worry about it too much ; it can't be helped, and remember I promised not to tell you. You mustn't give him the slightest hint, you know. (Madge nods her head.) Some day, Madge, I'll make you proud of me. Madge (looking up at him). I think you will, dear ! (He kisses her hand impulsively, then strides off through window.) (Brushing her eyes with her handkerchief.) It would have killed father ! He was right to take it, yet Oh, it was splendid of him. All my life I shall be grateful to him, and if there is anything I can do to repay our debt, I will. Yet, what could I do ? (Enter Hook quietly r.i.e. He is studying the " plete Gentleman," he looks up, sees Madge, gives a start, and hastily puts the little book back in his pocket.) Hook (nervously). Thought you and Ronald were about together. (Strides up to window.) 28 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO 'i " [Act I. Madge. No, he is having a talk with father. (Hook looks along path, then glances nervously down the room at her, then finally, as if he has made up his mind, comes down stage towards her.) Hook. Can you spare me half a minute, Miss Madge ? Madge (glancing at him in surprise). Why, of course, Mr, Hook. Hook (turns away from her). I hardly know how to begin — I (Suddenly swinging round, blurting it out.) Well, here it is, right out ! I'm going to ask if you'll make me the happiest chap on this earth ! (She shrinks back tremblingly. He approaches a step nearer to her.) I am not going to worry you — I'm only going to ask — if it's " no." Well, I hope I'll take it standing like a man. (He pauses and looks at her. She makes no reply ; she is staring straight ahead of her) I'm not much of a man at talking about these things, I've never had any experience. I only know I love the very ground you walk upon ; I'd lay down my life for you any time ! I don't know how it's hap- pened — it was being here, seeing you every day. I couldn't help falling in love with you. And now it means everything in the world to me ! (She half turns so that he may not see her face) Madge, I'm not a soldier — not, perhaps, the class of man you'd have chosen for a husband. I was a bit rough once ; perhaps the corners aren't quite gone yet, but they will in time. I'm working very hard. I only know I love you, would give anything in the world to make you happy ! (Pause, he looks plead- ingly at her.) Act [.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" 20 Madge (r. of table, turning round, tremblingly). You think I am the wife to make you happy ? Hook (l. of table, eagerly). Think ! It's just the one thing on earth I count as a prize. Madge (faintly). But suppose my love didn't equal yours ? Hook. It would in time ; I'd make it ! (He half turns away, suddenly with change of tone.) I don't want to worry you ! I've told you what it means to me ; but there, it'll be all right if you want to say " no." Just because a man asks you, you aren't bound to say " yes," are you ? (Pause.) Even if it does just mean to him the difference between Heaven and Hell. You don't owe anything to me ; you've no need to make me happy unless, unless you want to. (Turning to her imploringly.) Well, what do you say ? Madge (after a pause, speaking with difficulty). I — I'll try and make you happy. Hook (catching her hand and pressing it to his lips, excitedly). You — you mean it ? (Slight move- ment c.) Madge. I only ask one thing — don't speak about it for a day or so. (Forcing a smile.) You see, I want to get used to the idea. Hook. Anything ! (Holding her hand again, slowly.) You've given me such happiness to-day, that I can hardly ever repay you. But I'll do my best ; I'll give up my life to do it. Every debt should be repaid, shouldn't it ? Madge (turning her head away from him, slowly). Yes, every debt should be repaid ! (Enter Rodd l.2.e. He holds the door open. Hook springs apart from Madge.) Rodd. Miss Dolly Banter and Lady Nora Hervey, miss ! (Enter Dolly and Lady Nora quickly, Dolly is 30 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. an energetic-looking girl of about twenty -three, her dress is decidedly " sporty" Lady Nora is a tall, graceful woman, a few years older, handsome and reposed in manner.) Dolly. This is Lady Nora Hervey, a pal of ours, Nora, Miss Madge Kederby. (Hurrying forward to Madge.) How do, Madge ; hullo, Dickie, going strong ? (Colonel and Ronald appear at windows, arm in arm; they enter the room) yy (To Colonel.) Oh, good-morning, Colonel ; and you too, Ronald ; what a big boy you're growing ! Colonel Sir Bruce Kederby — Lady Nora Hervey — there you are, there you are ! (She turns with a laugh to Hook. Colonel greets Lady Nora courteously, and introduces her in turn to Ronald and Madge.) (Turning round to her.) Nora dear, this is Mr. Dickie Hook — beg pardon, Richard. (Introduces them ; Lady Nora bows distantly and sits.) Suppose you're wondering at my springing in on you when I'm dining here to-night. Fact is we're getting up a scratch tennis party this afternoon, and it struck me that some of you would perhaps like to help us out ! So I had the new cob put in, and here we are ! (To Dickie.) She did the three miles in eleven minutes without turning a hair — fact, my boy ! Colonel. It's very kind of you ! Afraid, how- ever, I must decline ; I have to go into Towchester. Dolly. Well, then, Madge, you will ? And Ronald, you too ? (Turning to Hook.) And of course you will, you're not engaged ? Hook (excitedly). Oh, yes — I am — that is, I shall be delighted. Dolly. Right, you're booked. That's settled — three o'clock sharp, and no jibbing at the post ! Act I.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 31 Colonel. Lady Nora, I trust you will join the party from the Cedars, and dine with us this evening ? Lady Nora. Thank you, I shall be very pleased ! Dolly (who has been chatting to Hook, swinging round). Oh, I say, Sir Bruce, Nora met an old pal of ours while she was away — came home on the same ship as far as Alexandria. Give you three guesses ! What, no tries ? Why, Kit Wynne ! Colonel (to Lady Nora). Really. We have known Sir Christopher Wynne since he was quite a little chap ! Our children and he practically grew up together ! LadyN. Yes, he spoke of his friends here. (Looks towards Madge.) Colonel (laughing). Oh, he and Madge used to have great times together. I daresay you know his history — how he has been roughing it in the Colonies, and now has suddenly stepped into his uncle's estates and fortune ? I suppose he was in a fever to get home ? Lady N. Well, hardly, else he would have arrived as soon as I have. When I left him he was in a state of delightful uncertainty as to his movements ! He wanted to see Cairo, and was coming through Paris ; so it's rather difficult to. say when he's likely to be back ! (Dolly is down stage with Hook, going to piano and taking up photograph.) Dolly. I always think that a very good likeness of Kit. What do you think, Nora ? (Madge starts. Lady Nora and Colonel come down stage. Lady Nora takes photo and examines it. Dolly turns to Madge, and puts it on table.) Just taken before he left, wasn't it, Madge ? Madge (faintly). Yes. (Turns away, meets Lady Nora's glance.) Do you think it a good likeness ? 32 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. Lady N. (looking at her with deliberate smile). I'm afraid you will find he has changed a good deal. Dolly (briskly). Well, Sir Bruce, we must be heading off. Mustn't keep the governor waiting for his feed, you know. Nothing touches him so much ! Colonel. Come through the garden ; our roses are well worth seeing ! (He leads the way with Lady Nora ; Dolly follows, also Ronald and Madge.) (Hook lingers behind in the room. He watches them disappear, then turns and stands with his legs apart, his hands in his pockets, a smile of absolute happy triumph on his face. Dolly re-appears on path, pokes her head into the room.) Dolly. Dickie ! (He swings round.) I've picked up a delightfully funny story, a real good 'un. Don't forget to ask me this afternoon. That's all. So long ! (Makes her exit.) Hook. I can hardly believe it yet. My head's just buzzing with happiness ! (Sits down in chair and assumes attitude of forced composure.) You don't want any more proof, Dickie ! You're a gen- tleman at last. Would she have had me, bless her, if I was a husband she'd be ashamed of ! (Sitting up, patting his chest.) I'm good enough for her, then I'm good enough for the whole world ! (Suddenly breaking into a laugh.) Oh, it's just tremendously all right, it is ! Lord, what a thing love is ! (Door L.2.E. opens and Rodd enters, ushering in Miss Agatha Kederby, the Colonel's sister. She is a tall upright old lady, with a somewhat hard-looking face.) Rodd. This way, madam. A( t I.] ' WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 33 Miss Agatha (giving Rodd a card). Will you tell Sir Bruce, Miss Agatha Kederby is here ! Rodd. Yes, madam, I will go and find him. (Enthusiastically.) You've come on just the right day, madam — the day, madam ! (Makes his exit through windows.) (Miss Agatha starts after him.) Hook (coming forward and bowing). The Anniver- sary of Vallapore, you know. Sir Bruce is seeing some visitors through the garden. Perhaps you will allow me to entertain you for a few moments. Miss A. (staring at him hard, she speaks in abrupt tone). Entertain me ! I don't want any entertain- ing. Who on earth are you ? Hook. Only Mr. Hook, madam — merely Mr. Richard Hook. Miss A. 'Em ! (Still staring.) On business ? Hook. No, madam — friend of the family. Miss A. A what ? Hook. A visitor. I've been staying here some time. Miss A. (with a shrug). Really ! (Goes up r.c.) (She turns away and takes a few steps down stage l., examining the room. Hook takes hold of a chair as if about to offer it to her, then scratches his head as if an idea had suddenly come to him ; he pulls out his " Complete Gentleman " and surreptitiously examines it, puts it away and looks towards her nervously ; she is by the piano, and glancing at the pictures.) Hook (leaning on table). Charmin' weather we're having for this time of year ; the roads are just right now. Do you motor ? Miss A. (swinging round). Motor ! Good heavens, no ! (Turns and picks up photo and examines it.) Hook (after nervous glances at her). Ah, I dare- say you read more ? (Pulls out book again and opens it stealthily.) Have you read the Morals of Cynthia ? 34 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. (Slips book behind him quickly as she turns her head.) Miss A. (abruptly). No ! Hook. That's a pity ; well worth wading through, don't you know ! Miss A. (without turning her head, still intent on photo). I don't wade. (Sits down.) Hook (putting book back in pocket, half aside, in despair). Don't think much of these " Conversa- tional Openings ! " Miss A. (putting down photo, turning and surveying him, after a pause). Well, have you any more small talk? Hook {nervously). No, have you ? I wish some- body would come in. (Aside.) Miss A. (sitting down, grimly). I am not renowned for my small talk ! (There is an awkward pause. Hook leans against edge of table and makes a vain attempt to appear at ease, picks up paper and looks at it.) Hook (suddenly). Capital speech that, in the House last night Miss A. Which one ? Hook (hurriedly). I don't know, but it was splen- didly striking, don't you know. (Colonel appears at windows, Miss Agatha rises to her feet. Hook slips off table and moves r., sees Colonel.) (In tone of relief.) Thank the Lord ! (To door r.) Colonel (entering, stands before Miss Agatha in attitude of surprise). By Jove, Agatha ! Miss A. Rather surprised, Bruce ? Colonel. Well, somewhat ! You see Miss A. Look here, Bruce, I'm a plain-spoken woman. Hook. You are, by gum, you are ! Act J.] ' ; WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 35 Miss A. And it struck me as being rather silly to keep up a family quarrel for more than fifteen years ! Colonel. It is a long time ; I have almost for- gotten what it was about. Miss A. Well, never mind that. Anyway, I've come to know whether you care to resume acquaint- ance with your sister ? If I did insult you in the past, well, I won't do it in the future without occasion ! You can't expect me to say more than that, can you ? Colonel. My dear Agatha, it is more than gener- ous of you ! I never knew you say so much before. Miss A. I'm getting soft in my old age. I take it, then, we're to be friends again ? Colonel. Delighted, my dear Agatha, delighted ! Have you come to stay with us ? Miss A. Yes, but I won't come under false colours. I'm not the rich woman I was, Bruce, and I've sold my place in Norfolk. Colonel (starts). Sold Framage ? But Miss A. Unfortunate investments. (Colonel looks at her, then steps forward and shakes her by the hand impulsively. She looks surprised.) Colonel. It's in the blood ! Oh, I mean affec- tion. Miss A. But I'm quite independent ; you needn't think I shall sponge on you in any way. I'm just an independent old woman with a few hundreds a year. I propose to spend a week or so with you, then clear off to a boarding-house. Will that suit you ? If it don't, speak out like a man. Colonel. Well, then, as a man I'll speak out and say it will ! Ton my word, Agatha, I think I shall findjyour society quite refreshing. (He goes up l.c. Enter Madge.) Hook (half aside to Madge). I bet he will ! Miss A. That's your daughter, I suppose. I forget her name, what is it ? 36 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO I " [Act I. Colonel (going to Madge, putting his arm round her affectionately). Yes, this is Madge. Miss A. (holding out her hand). Will you shake hands with your aunt — (Madge attempts to kiss, and is repulsed) — I never kiss ! (They shake hands. Miss Agatha stares at her critically.) Madge. I have often wanted to know you. Miss A. Really, you must have strange tastes, then. (Rises.) Colonel. And the boy, Ronald, is home now too. So you will see us all ! Miss A. (indicating Hook). I have already had the pleasure of knowing this gentleman. He intro- duced himself, and was good enough to entertain me. He asked me if I motored, and whether I had read the Morals of Cynthia ; he said he was a visitor here. (A ghost of a smile flickers over the Colonel's face, then he laughs lightly.) Colonel. Yes, Mr. Hook is my guest at present. (To Hook.) Thank you, Hook, for looking after my sister ! Hook (nervously). A pleasure, Sir Bruce, a plea- sure ! Miss A. (turning in a business-like manner towards L.2.E.). As we've settled matters, I'd like to go to my room. (To Madge.) Perhaps you will show me one ? Madge (going L.2.E., opening door). Of course. Come along, aunt ! (Exit both L.2.E.) Colonel. Extraordinary for her to turn up again like this ! Do you know, Hook, she hasn't spoken to me for fifteen years. Quite unconsciously I offended her in some way. Hook. A nasty temper, eh, Sir Bruce ? (Strolls up towards windows and looks along path.) Act I.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 37 Colonel (laughing). Well, well, call it eccentric ! She's a very good sort really, but has sometimes rather a queer way of showing it. (Walks towards r.i.e.) I'm glad she has come round at last, still (Gives a glance up stage at Hook's figure, with a shrug, opening door R.2.E.) I'd rather not have to explain things. She won't be able to swallow him. It was a pretty big gulp in my own case. (Exit off r.i.) Hook (coming down stage excitedly). When shall I be able to see her alone again ! I can't think, I can't talk, can't do anything ! It's just wonderful to think that you, Dickie Hook, are engaged to the sweetest little lady that ever trod the earth. En- gaged ! And loved by her, for my own sake. I simply didn't know I was alive before ! What luck ! (Walking towards r.e.) Dickie Hook, you are going to send for the finest ring that can be found in London. What luck ! (Sits in big chair at desk and writes.) (Enter Ronald ; he comes running along the path in state of great excitement.) Ronald (calling). Madge ! Where are you ? I've got grand news ! Where on earth is she ? Madge ! (Opening door L.2.E., as he does so.) (Madge enters.) Ah, here you are ! I've been looking for you every- where. Madge. Don't you know that ? Ronald (excitedly). No, no. Just you listen, to me. Great news — who do you think is coming up the lane ; he stopped to talk to Lady Nora and Dolly Banter ; I ran on to tell you. Now, guess. (They move up stage towards windows.) Madge (wonderingly) . How can I ? (Catching hold of his arm tremblingly .) Not — not Kit ? 38 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. Ronald (triumphantly). Yes, Kit Wynne ! He came back suddenly, overland from Brindisi, and arrived this morning ! (Madge puts a hand on the back of a chair for support.) And he came along here at once ! (Laughing) To see you, Madge ! Ton my word, you are a lucky girl ! I'll bet ten to one you're Lady Wynne before a year's out. (Hook overhears, gives a start, and sits back in chair unseen by them.) Madge (hurriedly, with a sob in her voice). No, no, Ronnie. (She sinks down in the chair, and buries her face in her hands.) Ronald (bending over her in surprise). What's the matter, Madge ? I — don't cry, dear — what is it ? Madge (looking up, wearily). You will have to know. This morning Mr. Hook asked me to be his wife — and I — I gave my consent ! Ronald. Promised to marry Hook ! Good Lord ! (She nods her head, then buries her face again.) But, Madge, it's impossible ! He's a good fellow, but an outsider- — quite an. outsider — you don't love him ? Madge. No, I don't love him. (Clutches hold of Ronald's arm.) Oh, don't you see ? When he had so generously saved you from ruin — what should I say ? Ronald. You accepted him because — because of what he has done ? Madge. How could I do otherwise, when he saved you from disgrace — saved father's name from dishonour ? (Crosses c.) Every deb* must be re- paid. I have paid ours ! Ronald. But, Madge (Rises and crosses c.) Think what it means — the man himself — the- Madge, I have thought — of what we owe him. (Sits L. of table C.) I have given my word. Act L] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 39 Ronald. And all the time you love Kit Wynne. Oh, it's awful ! (Walks up to window.) Madge. Don't make it worse for me, Ronnie ! It's got to be done. And — he must never guess. We must be as generous as he has been. (Forcing a laugh.) Besides, I don't think I ever loved Ronald (looking along path). Here is Kit. I'll be off. Madge. Don't go, Ronnie — don't leave me ! (Enter Sir Christopher Wynne. He is a handsome, sunburnt young fellow of twenty -five. He steps into the room and holds out his hand.) Wynne. Madge ! Madge (shrinking back). Kit ! Wynne (stepping forward and clasping her hand). I suppose Ronnie told you how I got here ? (Looking into her face.) And how are you, little girl, after all this time ? (Looking round at Ronald who is still on path and with head turned the other way, ardently.) Just the same Madge as I left ? Madge (withdrawing her hand). No, not quite the same Madge. (He looks surprised. Ronald glances at them, and comes to the rescue.) Ronald. Oh, there's the governor on the lawn. Come along, Kit ! He'll be dying to see you. Madge (going to window). Yes, you must see father ; come along ! Wynne (reluctantly). Oh, very well. We must have our talk afterwards, then. (All three make their exit along path.) (As soon as they disappear, Hook jumps up from his chair, runs to windows and looks out after them. Running his hand over his hair, wearily.) 40 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act I. Hook (brokenly). Not because she loved me — but because she knew I helped her brother' — an outsider ■ — not of her class — giving up another man. (Puts his hand to his head, then looks along path again.) Now what would a gentleman do ? (Takes out his little book, scans it, then throws it to the ground with a look of disgust. Enters the room and sinks into a chair.) What would a gentleman do ? (Curtain.) ACT II R.U.E. Backcloth showing garden by moonlight Open glass doors Billiard room. Round table and chair R.I.E. I Fountain j Seat II Drawing L.I..E. room The interior of a hall can be used for this scene, if more convenient. Scene. — The conservatory. It is formed by painted walls reaching halfway up the stage, and completed by a large semi-circle of glass. In this, up stage, are two open glass doors, r.u.e. and l.u.e., showing portion of the grounds. In the walls, down stage, are two doors, one l.i.e., leading to the drawing-room, the other, r.i.e., to the billiard room. In the centre of the stage is a large fountain, and a little to the left of this a long iron conservatory seat, whilst down stage L. is a small iron table and chair. Palms and ferns complete the furniture. 42 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" [Act II. Time. — Same day, after dinner. Note. — All the characters are in evening dress during this Act. (As the curtain rises, Hook is discovered sitting on edge of fountain c. smoking. He is facing l., and is deep in thought. From the drawing-room L. the sound of a piano being softly played can be heard, whilst from the billiard room R. comes the click of the balls and people's voices, laughing and talking. Door r.i.e. opens, talk becoming the louder for the moment as it is open, and Dolly appears with cue in hand. She looks round, sees Hook, then steals across quietly and prods him in the back with the cue. He turns round with a start.) Dolly (laughing). What a slack beast you are, Dickie ! Hook (stifling a yawn). Yes, I'm pretty slack to-night. What are you doing ? Dolly (holding her cue out). Playing pills with Kit Wynne, Ronnie and Nora. I've come to fetch you. (Indicating l.i.e. with cue.) S'pose Madge is doing duty in with the old aunt and the Colonel. Drefful slow for her, poor girl. Hook. Oh, I don't know. She likes being with her father. Dolly. She likes being with some one else a great deal better ! (Taking hold of his arm.) Come along, Dickie, and play pills. (Door l.i.e. opens, and Rodd enters carrying a tray with two empty coffee cups. He is very excited, and though not drunk is pleasantly on the way towards it.) Rodd. Pills! Pills! Who said "pills"? Gad, we gave 'em pills that day ! Act II.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 43 {He stumps with his stiff leg excitedly across stage, and puts his tray down on the little iron table r., then to where Dolly is standing, laughing at him.) Dolly (mischievously). What day was that, Rodd? Rodd. What day ! Good 'eavens ! (Half aside.) Is the wee woman mad ? (Turns and lays hand heavily on Hook's shoulder.) It would 'ave done your heart good to 'ave seen the Colonel leading us through to the gates ; clean through their lines we 'ad to go, and didn't we know it ! I can 'ear the bugle now. And then orf we went on that last 'arf mile — right into the thick of sending the devils helter- skelter. (Seizing the cue from Dolly's hand, cutting right and left with it wildly.) There, there, not two 'undred yards away, there's the gate in sight ! One more spurt, damme — we're through — and Lord, they 'ave carved me leg ! (His cork leg has been unable to stand the strain of his stumping about, and he sinks down suddenly on the long iron seat, the leg sticking out straight in front of him. He bends it carefully down again.) (In a subdued tone.) Yes, the devils did for me that day, yes, but we did for them ! And I'm with the Colonel still, an' I got this. (Fingering a medal.) And hang me, if anything else much matters ! Dolly (taking a flower from her dress, in a tone of command). Sergeant Rodd ! Attention ! (He salutes stiffly.) You're a jolly good sort, and I award you the order of the white carnation ! (She puts it in his coat, and he salutes again.) Rodd. Thanky 'ee, miss ! I'll go and drink your 'ealth. (Marches towards table ; half way, turns round to Hook.) An' your health too, sir. Hook. Thank vou, Rodd. 44 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. Rodd (picking up his tray, banging his fist on the table). And everybody's health ! Hook. I should do it in tea, Rodd. Rodd. Tea on this day, good 'eavens, sir ! Men of the 21st Hussars. Attention ! Right turn t Quick march ! (Singing.) (Marches up stage, humming the British Grenadiers ,. and makes his exit r.u.e.) Hook. I wonder which'll hold out the longer, Rodd or the whisky ? Dolly (laughing, looking r.u.e.). I'll back old Rodd. (Turns to Hook.) Come along, Dickie, and play pills. Hook. I don't think I'll play billiards just now ; I'll stay here and finish my smoke, if you don't mind. Dolly (looking round). Look here, Dickie, what's the matter ? Had a bad day ? (Going -up to Hook.) Hook. No, no ! Just a kind of fancy. Give me two or three minutes more, and I'll be ready for any sort of fun you can name. Dolly (crossing towards r.i.e.). All right ; I'll give you just five minutes. No hedging ! You see it's rather awkward for me unless you help me out ! Hook. Awkward ? Why — how ? Dolly (turning round to him). How thick you are, Dickie ! Don't you know that Kit Wynne and Madge were awfully keen on one another before he went to Australia ? Hook. Oh yes, of course — that is, I s'pose they were. Dolly. And that boy Ronald seems to be rather keen on Nora. So, don't you see, I have to count on you to give me some fun, else I'm in for rather a slow time. Catch on ? Hook (nodding). We'll have a real good time together, in — in a few minutes, eh ? Dolly (laughing and running towards r.i.e.). Thanks ! I never spoil sport, you know. Act II.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 4.> Hook. Oh no, we mustn't spoil sport ! Dolly (waving her hand). So long — five minutes remember. (Exit R.I.E.) Hook (looking after her reflectively). Spoil sport I Letting him and her be together ! (Shrugs his shoul- ders, and takes a step or two towards fountain, sud- denly puts his hand to his forehead.) Oh, if he hadn't come back, if I hadn't heard. (Fiercely, forgetting his lis in his excitement.) I wasn't supposed to 'ave 'eard ! (Coming towards l.i.e.) (He stops suddenly as the piano is again heard in the drawing-room, and Madge begins to sing a little love ballad. He creeps down to l.i.e., and turns the handle and opens the door half an inch or so that the words are heard more plainly. He listens, and the fierceness dies from his face. As the song comes to a finish, he walks with bent shoulders to garden seat l., and sinks down with a sigh.) (Softly.) Yet I did hear, understood, and (Pause, then he puts his chest out and sticks cigar in the corner of his mouth). I'm a gentleman ! (Door opens l.i.e., and Colonel and Miss Agatha enter arm in arm.) Miss A. Not a bad voice ; I've heard a good many better. Colonel. But none sweeter, Agatha. Miss A. Don't be sentimental, Bruce. It gets on my nerves. (Hook has sprung to his feet.) Hook (politely). Will you sit here? Miss A. No. (Grimly.) Unless you wish to entertain me. Hook (nervously). No, no ; that is 46 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. Colonel (with a smile). The night's simply glori- ous ; shall we take a stroll ? The air's so warm that there's no risk of your catching cold. Miss A. Who said there was ? I'm not one of your new fandangled women, afraid to take a mouthful of fresh air ! (Turning round.) Give me a shawl, and I shall be all right. Colonel (crossing hurriedly l.i.e., calling). Madge, dear, bring your aunt's shawl ; it's on the couch. Miss A. (facing Hook). And I think the men of the present day are getting worse than the women. Hook (nervously). You do ? I believe you're right. (Enter Madge l.i.e. with shawl. She puts it over Miss Agatha's shoulders. Colonel lighting cigar.) Miss A. Thanks, child. Now I'm ready ! Bruce, give me your arm. You can light that cigar outside. (Colonel gives a smiling look of resignation to Madge, then takes his sister's arm ; they walk up stage together) Colonel. It's quite like old times, Agatha. Miss A. Don't talk nonsense, Bruce. Colonel. My dear, I won't. You shall do it all yourself. (Exit both r.u.e.) (Madge and Hook are left staring after them ; they turn slowly and face one another. She gives a little nervous start, and takes a step towards r.i.e.) Madge (nervously) . Are you coming to the billiard room, Mr. Hook ? Hook (taking a step towards her, looking round to see they are alone.) Not for a moment. I was won- dering if you could spare me a minute. I've been waiting for a chance to catch you. Madge (hesitates for a moment, then crosses and Act II.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO?" 47 sits down on seat l. with an effort, gently). Why, yes, of course, Mr. Hook. Hook (awkwardly). It's just something I want to tell you — about a mistake. I (His voice stops.) Madge. A mistake ? Hook (turning away, after a pause). Yes, a real bad sort of mistake ! (Facing her, pulling himself together.) This morning I asked you to be my wife — you consented. Madge (looking at him, startled). I consented, yes. Hook (making an ill attempt at jocularity). Yes, that's where the mistake comes in ! Madge. You mean ? Hook. Well, I shouldn't have asked you. (Facing her with a sudden brusqueness .) To cut the matter short, will you let me off ? Madge (bewildered) . Let you off ? Hook. I've thought the matter over, and don't want to marry you. Madge (unable to conceal the joy in her voice). I am free, then ? Hook. Yes, just forget that our little conversation ever occurred ; no one knows about it, so none will be a penny the wiser. (Almost roughly.) What do you say ? (Madge takes a step down stage, and stands with clasped hands. Directly she cannot see him, Hook's ex- pression changes, and there is an imploring look on his face.) Madge. It shall be as you wish ! (Turning round to him.) I suppose you find you didn't love me after all, that's what you said Hook (laughing helplessly). I did it on impulse. Yes, suppose it was impulse. (She is looking at him intently ; he begins to laugh 48 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. again, but it dies away as he sees something in her eyes.) Madge (hesitatingly). I don't think you're that kind of man ! Hook (slowly). That kind of man ? Madge. To do a thing like that on impulse. Oh, I don't understand, yet Hook (going to her). Yet you're glad. (She looks up startled.) Yet, you're glad ! (She drops her head ; he laughs gently.) So you ought to be. You wouldn't be the daughter of Sir Bruce Kederby, C.B., if you weren't. (Again she looks up ; he silences her with a gesture.) It's right all the way, just listen ! (He leans on the back of his seat.) Money can do most things in this world. It can give you a house in Park Lane, any sort of kickshaws you can name, it can make a snob of you, and that's what I've been. I spoofed myself I was a gentleman, bragged of it to you this morning. And now I know I'm only a bounder, just the every-day sort of bounder who has had his head turned by a pile of money ! (After pause.) And, being a bounder, I got it fixed in my head that it would be a big thing to marry the daughter of Sir Bruce Kederby, and I went for the idea. You know what happened — she consented ; strikin' wonderful thing, wasn't it ? (His voice softens.) But I some- how had got a glimpse of why she did it. (Madge goes c.) And somehow the bounder was ashamed, and saw it all of a heap, that money can buy a wife but not the love of a real little lady ! (Crosses c.) Madge (softly). I don't know what to say — I'm only a girl — I'm very sorry if Act II.] '• WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 40 Hook (turning round). There's nothing to be sony about, little lady ! I ought never to have asked you. (With an attempt at cheerfulness.) I shan't be miserable, you know ! I shall just get hold of somebody who likes my society, and forget all about it in a day or so. Madge (brightening). Then you didn't really love me ? Hook (looking at her, then turning away with a laugh). No, I didn't love— only the snob idea — the snob idea. Madge (holding out her hand). I don't think you a snob or a bounder ! (He takes her hand.) You have been more than generous ! Hook. That's just nice of you. (Pauses.) Now there's only just one thing left to make you the happiest girl in England. (She looks up with a start.) You see, I've guessed your secret ; I didn't know this morning, else — it's right, isn't it ? Madge (shyly). Yes, it's right ! Hook. He is just the best man in the world in your eyes, and you really love him ? Madge (turning away). Before he left, he — but now after all this time it may be different Hook. Yes, but you love him — you love him ? It's quite safe with me ! Madge (softly). Yes, if he's the same, I love him — if he's- the same! (Putting her hands up to her cheeks.) Oh ! Hook. Of course he's the same ! And you'll just be tremendously happy. Madge. I don't know how to thank you. (Paus- ing, half fearfully.) But, Ronnie — I found out what you did for him this morning. Hook (gruffly). I know, that's why you accepted c 50 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO !" [Act II. me. I'll never do a thing I want to again if it's going to be found out. Madge. It was such a tremendous thing ! Hook. It was the littlest thing, in the world to me. Not a word more about it. (Turning to her impulsively.) There, just forget everything, except that you're free. It's good, ain't it ? And I'm in the same boat too ; I'm free to (Door opens quickly r.i.e. and Dolly appears, followed by Ronnie, Lady Nora and Wynne.) Dolly. Free to what, Dickie ? Hook. Why, to race you round the tennis courts, of course. The five minutes is up ? Dolly. Come along, my cheery sportsman ! (Exit Dolly and Hook r.u.e.) (Ronnie crosses to Madge l. side of fountain. Lady Nora and Wynne are down stage. Lady Nora glances at Dolly and Hook, and shrugs her shoulders disdainfully.) Ronnie (to Madge). You should have been with us, Madge. Kit has [been '"telling us a lot of his adventures. By Jove, he has roughed it ! (Madge looks towards Wynne and smiles.) Wynne. It makes one appreciate being at home again. (Crosses to Ronnie and Madge.) Lady N. (to Wynne). How long do you think the home sentiment will last in your case ? Wynne (staring at Madge). To the end of the chapter ! Lady N. (laughing). The first chapter ! There is always more to follow with men like you ! (He shakes his head.) Ronnie (to Lady Nora). You'll come a stroll, Lady Nora ? The grounds are awfully pretty by moonlight ! Act II.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 51 Lady N. Oh, I love moonlight ! (Ronnie takes a step or two up stage r. Lady Nora prepares to follow, then turns to Wynne for a moment.) Don't crowd anything irrevocable into the first chapter, Sir Christopher ! The knot takes such a lot of undoing, you know. (Laughs and joins Ronnie ; they go up stage together and exit r.u.e.) Wynne (crossing to Madge, placing one foot on fountain). At last ! I've hardly had a chance of speaking to you, Madge, before now. (Looking at her.) By Jove, little girl, you haven't altered much yet ; how old are you ? Why, it must be Madge. Twenty-one and two months — terrible, isn't it ? And you, Kit, you are twenty-seven ! Wynne. And am I much changed ? Madge (looking at him searchingly). I don't know ; you look — more of a man, I think. Yes, that's it — more of a man. Wynne (laughing). I ought to ! It was pretty rough out there at first, Madge. Madge (softly). Poor Kit ! (Looking up at him with a smile.) Never mind, it's all changed now. Wynne. Yes, it's all right now. (Looking round.) Oh, you don't know what it means, Madge, to be back again amongst you all. (Looking at her.) To see you again. Madge. And we're awfully pleased, Kit, too ! Wynne. We ? Madge (rises, comes down stage to seat c.) Yes, I'm pleased, Kit. Wynne (following her). Don't you remember, Madge, it was just here, four years ago, that we said good-bye. Madge. Yes, I remember. Wynne. You were saying " good-bye " to a ne'er-do-well, a boy who had quarrelled with his 52 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. uncle, the best friend he ever had. What a fool I was ! Madge. You only misunderstood each other. You had the pluck to be independent ! Wynne. The folly ! Yet he forgave me, left everything to me as he had originally intended ! And I never had the opportunity of thanking him. Madge. It wasn't your fault. Wynne. No, it couldn't be helped ; I was prac- tically starving in Australia when the news came. (He pauses, then looks down at her, softly.) Yes, it's very good to be back again, Madge. I often used to picture you, sitting here of an evening ; wondered if you sometimes thought of me ! Did you ? Madge (smiling reproachfully). Sometimes, Kit. Wynne. Perhaps I didn't wonder much, perhaps I knew ! You remember what passed between us that night, Madge ? Madge. I remember everything. Wynne. My future was uncertain ; I was going out to fight the world ! I couldn't bind you in any way ; you were to be free. If I went under — well, you would never have seen me again. If things came out right, I should come back to you — if you had not changed. (He stops suddenly as if in doubt whether to proceed ; she is looking at the water, and does not see his face. She begins to raise her head ; with a sudden impulse, he bends down and takes her hand) Things have come out right, Madge ; I have come back, and you have not changed ? Madge (looking at him with shining eyes, rising). No, not changed, Kit dear ; just the same ! Wynne (taking both her hands). This is the best night in my life ! (Takes her in his arms and kisses her.) Madge (linking her arm within his, they move up stage l.). To think it should have all come right Act II.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 53 like this. To find you the same old Kit, not changed a bit ! Wynne. Not a bit ! (Is about to kiss her again.) Madge. Kit ! {Door r.i.e. opens and Rodd enters ; he marches in humming " Tommy Atkins," then sees Wynne and Madge. Madge gives a little laugh.) (Then escapes from Wynne and runs off R.2.E.) Rodd (slapping his thigh). Don't mind me, sir. Gad, but it's good news ! And to think of its hap- pening on the day, of all days ! Jove, sir, you're a lucky man ! She's as good as gold, and the man who says it is the man who nussed 'er as a babby, and 'as watched her every day since ; and 'e's the man that knows. Good luck to you, sir ! Wynne (laughing). Thank you, Rodd. Rodd (chuckling to himself , crossing r.i.e.) . I must go and drink your 'ealth, sir — both your 'ealths ! To think of its happening to-day. Lord, love me, I am having a night ! (He bangs the door open, and stumps excitedly through ; the cork leg suddenly goes stiff.) I've got so many 'ealths this evening, I don't want to forget any. Oh, damn that leg ! (Exit R.I.E.) Wynne (enthusiastically). He's right ; I am a lucky man ! (He turns to go after Madge, but stops as Lady Nora enters. She smiles and comes down stage to him. The boyish enthusiasm fades away, and he assumes the air of a man of the world.) Lady N. I sent the boy in to get some chocolates ; I always eat chocolates in the moonlight. Wynne (lighting a cigarette). Oh, indeed ! Lady N. Then I caught sight of a girlish figure running out from the door ; she was smiling, and her eyes held that look that means only one thing in 54 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. a woman. Then I thought I'd just drop in for a moment, and Wynne. Congratulate me ? Lady N. It wasn't the word I was thinking of I So you've actually proposed to her, my friend ? Wynne (nodding). And been accepted. Lady N. Dear, dear ! What a sentimentalist you are ! After dinner, a conservator}/, a pretty face— and you fall a victim Wynne. Hardly accurate, is it ? It's only finish- ing what was begun four years ago. Lady N. The interval's too great ! Come, con- fess, my dear friend ; you are not the unsophisticated boy you were four years ago, although you are still the same sentimentalist. Life then meant marriage with the pretty little rustic maid, and existence in the same rustic surroundings. Now what does it mean ? Wynne. Much about the same — life with a pretty girl whom I love, the dearest little woman on earth. Lady N. (laughing). What a man you are for your illusions ! For the moment you are still think- ing yourself the simple, nice boy you were then. Now you are Sir Christopher Wynne, with an income far beyond an average man's wants ! And you've already tasted the delights of the world, far beyond the average man's wants. I suppose it was this overwhelming desire for sweet simplicity that made you spend weeks in Cairo, Monte Carlo, and Paris on the way home. (Wynne smokes on a trifle sullenly, but says nothing ; she approaches a trifle nearer to him.) And there was a pretty face that attracted you in each — now confess. Wynne. Would it not be superfluous, when you know so much ? Lady N. And do you remember that night when Act II.] '• WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 55 you gave that delightful supper at the Cafe de Paris at Monte Carlo, and the moment when things were at their brightest you glanced round and whispered to me, " This is life ; I have only existed before ; that is the life I mean to lead." (She turns away laughing. Wynne continues to smoke with a dogged expression. She turns once again to him.) And you tell me seriously that this simple little person — just sweetly good, and nothing else, is going to fill a niche in that life. (Walking to fountain and sits.) My dear Sir Christopher, I admit men are extra- ordinary, but — well, there's a limit to a woman's credulity. Wynne. They say the only thing a woman won't believe is the truth ! Lady N. Yes, if it does happen to be the truth. Wynne. Only the future can convince you ! (Moving towards l.u.e.) You'll pardon me, but the newly engaged man, you know (Walks up stage.) Lady N. (laughingly). By all means ! I give 3 T ou a fortnight. Wynne. And then ? Lady N. Oh, you'll ride away — as a man like you will always ride away when it's merely a case of a pretty face — and nothing else ! Wynne (he looks thoughtfully at her ; then a smile creeps slowly over his face). And in the meantime it is rather pleasant. (Bowing.) Au re voir ! Lady N. Au revoir, and the pleasantest of mean- times ! (Wynne makes his exit leisurely l.u.e.) (She watches him, then turns slowly and sits down on seat r. thoughtfully .) He knows I'm right ; yes, in his heart of hearts he knows I'm right. And when he does ride away (Rises, smiling.) Well, we shall see. A man who is 56 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. " lifey " gets tired of a pretty face ; it's the clever woman who keeps his interest and marries him ! (Ronnie enters l.i.e. ; he is carrying a little silver basket of chocolates. She sees him and smiles.) Ronnie. I've been looking for you everywhere, Lady Nora ! (Holding basket out.) I got 'em from the dining-room table ; they hadn't cleared the show yet. Lady N. Will you ever forgive me for troubling you ; it was only a whim. I'm afraid I didn't really want them ! Ronnie (turning away, aside). Well, I'm (Crosses to table R., and puts basket down ; turns and looks admiringly at her.) (She has her back turned to him, and is standing by the fountain.) (Crosses to her ; she turns.) If you won't have the chocolates, will you have — er — the moonlight again ? Lady N. Not for a moment ; I have something to tell you, now guess ! Ronnie (bewildered). I'll give it up. Lady N. Something has happened to a near relative of yours — something that you might perhaps have expected. Ronnie. Why, not Madge and Kit ! (She nods.) They've fixed it up ? Well done, Kit ! I'm so glad. (Colonel and Miss Agatha enter arm in arm r.u.e.) Miss A. (to Colonel). So it all comes of your being fool enough to dabble in speculations, eh ? Now, what on earth could you know about making money ? (Putting hand on fountain.) Act II.] '" WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 57 Colonel. I confess my ability to make money was not equal to my wonderful skill in losing it. But we all like to try ! Miss A. I know. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again— and go bankrupt. (Colonel sees Ronnie and Lady Nora ; touches Miss Agatha wamingly.) Ronnie {swinging round) . Hullo, governor ; heard the news — splendid, isn't it ? Colonel. I've hardly had a surfeit of splendid news lately ; what is this particular intelligence ? Ronnie. Why, that Kit and Madge have fixed it up. Miss A. Do, for Heaven's sake, talk English, boy. Fixed what up ? Ronnie. Become engaged ! Good, isn't it ? We all knew she was keen on him. Colonel {rubbing his hands). By Jove, he hasn't wasted much time ! (Turning to Miss Agatha.) I'm very pleased, Agatha ! Miss A. Well, anybody but a fool would be ! Thirty thousand a year, hasn't he ? Colonel. Oh, it's not that ! I only want to see my Madge happy ! Who told you, Ronnie boy ? Lady N. I did, Sir Bruce. I learnt it a second ago, and like a woman couldn't keep it to myself. Colonel. Where is Madge ? I want to see her. (Dolly Banter enters at a run r.u.e. Hook arrives a second afterwards.) Dolly. You're not half a sprinter, Dickie ; out of form, old boy. You owe me two pairs of gloves, and don't forget it ! Miss A. (throwing a backward glance in Dolly's direction). What creatures there are on God's earth ! Ronnie (crossing to Hook). Hook, old chap, Madge and Kit have come to an understanding ; I thought 58 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. Hook (half mechanically). You shouldn't, she was free — free— I'm glad, you understand ! (Dolly has crossed to Lady Nora, and has been listening to her.) Dolly. Well, Kit's a regular flyer ; he's past the post when others would barely have got under way ! (Enter Madge l.i.e. She sees the others, and pauses for a moment, hesitatingly. Colonel with out- stretched arms crosses to her.) Colonel. My dear little girl, we know ! (Looking at her fondly.) No need to ask if you are pleased ! Madge (kissing him). You really don't mind, father ? Colonel (patting her). I'm delighted ! (Lady Nora and Dolly cluster round her.) Lady N. My best congratulations ! Sir Christo- pher is charming. Madge. Thank you ! Dolly. . A rattling good sort, Madge ! You've drawn a first prize. Ronnie (up stage, aside to Hook, who is watching the scene intently). Hook, I don't understand every- thing, but you've been a splendid pal. I can never repay Hook (indicating Madge who is laughing and smiling happily with Dolly and Lady Nora, half to himself). Isn't that enough repayment to see her like that ? (Ronnie stares wonderingly at him ; Hook suddenly awakes and turns on him) Oh, hang it, go and talk to the girls ; don't stop here boring me about your gratitude. I'm full up with it, do you hear ? Act II.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 59 (Ronnie smiles and crosses down to the others. Hook turns and strolls r.u.e.) (Exit.) Ronnie (to Madge). I needn't tell you what I think about it, Madge, old girl. Madge (smiling, pressing his hand affectionately). I think I know Ronnie, dear. Miss A. (on seat). Child, come here ! (Madge goes to her.) Madge. Yes, aunt. Miss A. Now, tell me what sort of a young man is this ? Of course, I know he is good looking and has money. Is he honest, straightforward, manly, and with all the rest of the virtues ? Madge (smiling). Has any man got them all, aunt ? Miss A. Good ! If you had said " yes," I should have put you down as a fool. As it is, I hope you won't be more disappointed than most girls are in their husbands. Madge. Oh, thank you, aunt. Colonel (patting her on arm). That's a tremen- dous lot for your aunt to say, my dear. It practi- cally amounts to fulsome congratulations. Miss A. (sharply). It doesn't mean anything of the kind, Bruce. Colonel (shaking his head). Oh, don't tell me. (Looking round.) Well, where is Kit ? We all want to see him now. Madge. I think he is in the garden. (Moving a pace or so up stage.) I'll fetch him. (Door l.i.e. opens and Rodd enters ; he holds the door open) Rodd (thickly). Mr. Quayne— — Colonel (walking towards the door). Ah ! 00 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO?" [Act IT. (Quayne enters with Geoffrey Seaton, a man of about thirty. He wears a short beard.) Colonel {shaking hands). Very good of you to come, Quayne ! How are you, Mr. Seat on ? Let me introduce you — my sister, Mr. Seaton — Lady Nora Hervey, Miss Banter — and this is my daughter — Madge dear, Mr. Seaton ! (Looking round.) Where's Hook ? (To Seaton.) The man from Australia I told you about, you know. You must have a yarn together, and we must all hear. An evening in Australia, what do you all say ? Quayne. I can assure you he has had some remarkable adventures, Sir Bruce. Colonel. Splendid ! And with three of 'em at it we ought to be well entertained ! Well, for the moment, shall we say the billiard room ? (Ronnie and Lady Nora, Dolly and Quayne move towards r.i.e. laughing together. Madge takes a step or two up stage.) (To Miss Agatha.) What would you like to do, Agatha ? Miss A. What I am going to do, Bruce, is to sit in the drawing-room quietly, by myself. (Moving towards l.i.e.) And I fancy that's what they all want me to do ! (Colonel and Seaton laughing follow the others into the billiard room r.i.e. Hook suddenly enters l.i.e. He holds the door open politely for Miss Agatha.) (To Hook.) I've found out about you ! I thought there must be some explanation ! Hook (nervously). That's highly satisfactory, that is ! (Pause, half fiercely.) Well, what of it ? What have you got to say ? Act XL] 'WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" 61 Miss A. I haven't quite made up my mind. I'll tell you later if it would interest you. (Exit L.I.E.) Hook (looking after her, dryly). Yes, I expect it would be interesting ! (He turns and sees Madge at garden door r.u.e. ; she comes down towards him ; he goes up stage, and they meet by fountain.) Madge. I thought I'd just wait a moment to Hook. Tell me he was just the same ? Madge. Yes, just the same. Oh, you don't know how grateful I am to you, Mr. Hook ! Hook. Yes, I had a fortunate escape, hadn't I ? (She laughs ; he turns to her.) I suppose, if he hadn't been the same old Kit, if any- thing had happened, if he had changed, it would have broken your heart, eh ? Madge (thoughtfully). I think it would. (Smiling again.) But he hasn't ; he's just the same dear simple old Kit, and he loves me ! Hook. And his love means all the difference between happiness and misery to you ? Madge (slowly). Yes, all the difference. Hook (pulling out his cigarette case). Things couldn't have fallen out better, could they ? (Light- ing cigarette.) Wonderful, what a knack things have of coming out straight, isn't it ? (They walk up stage r. together.) Madge (laughing). Yes, wonderful, when they just get the touch to send them in the right direction. (Holding out her hand.) I must go and find him. Once more, thank you ! Hook (silencing her with a gesture). I'll go and drown myself in the fountain if I have another word (32 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO 7" [Act II. of thanks ! There, go and find him ; I don't expect you'll have much trouble ! Madge (at door). And what are you going to do ? Hook (enthusiastically). Have a clinking time with some one who understands my funny little ways ; she's my cut, just my cut, and a ripper 1 (Door opens r.u.e., and Dolly and Lady Nora enter . Lady Nora crosses towards l.i.e.) Madge (looking at Dolly, then at Hook, smiling meaningly). I'm so glad ! (Exit R.U.E.) (Hook looks after her ; the enthusiasm dies out of his, face, and a look of dejection passes over it. He glances at Dolly, then crosses quietly up stage to l.u.e. with the intention of stealing out.) Lady N. (at l.i.e. to Dolly). I'm going to amuse myself with old Miss Kederby. Coming ? Dolly. No, thanks ; shouldn't call that amuse- ment. Lady N. Oh, Dolly ! (Lady Nora laughs and exit l.i.e.) Dolly (seeing Hook). Hallo, Dickie, where off to ? Hook. Oh, is that you ? (They come towards one another.) Dolly. Now, look here, Dickie, this is the second time you have given me the slip ! Hook. No, really ! Dolly. Well, it may be chance, or it mayn't. But I'd like to be sure ; don't hanker after having fun with you if you'd rather not, you know ! Hook (recklessly). Oh, I'm on for any kind of sport. (Coming c.) Dolly (holding out her hand.) Mean it ? Hook (shaking hands). All the way ! What shall we do ? Act II.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" 63 (The sound of a piano playing a waltz is heard off in drawing-room L.) Dolly (laughing). That's old Nora ! What a jolly waltz ! (With air of inspiration.) Dickie ! Shall we ? There's nobody about. (Hook bows to her and offers his arm. She takes it, and they waltz down stage. Wynne and Madge appear at window r.u.e.) Where did you learn to waltz so nicely, Dickie ? Hook. Shilling hops in Melbourne. (He sees Madge.) Good, isn't it ? (Raising his voice.) We get on Ai together, don't we ? Dolly. Think so, really ? Hook (enthusiastically). By gum ! I haven't enjoyed anything so much for months ! Up we go again ! (Wynne touches Madge on arm, and they disappear from window r.u.e. Dolly and Hook get towards l.u.e., door r.i.e. opens and Colonel 0;^ Quayne appear.) Colonel. It's a shame to drag you away to talk business, Quayne ! Quayne. Not at all ! (They see Dolly and Hook, and laugh.) (The pair stop dancing suddenly. Hook offers his arm to Dolly. They stroll off.) Colonel. Young blood, Quayne, young blood ! (They stroll centre.) I've been thinking things over, Quayne, and I've come to a definite conclusion. The Grange will have to go, and I want you to put it up for sale at once. Quayne. But now that Miss Madge has made such a favourable match, Sir Bruce Colonel. No, Quayne, I'm not going to trade on that. There, my mind is made up. This last call of 64 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. five thousand has done it. Of course it'll be a bit of a wrench, but 'pon my word, I'm not sure but I shall be glad ; so put it up, Quayne, and carry the thing through as soon as possible. The proceeds will enable me to clear myself and keep the boy in the Service. Quayne (with a sigh). Very well, Sir Bruce, I'll do my best ! Colonel. You don't think there will be any diffi- culty about a buyer ? Quayne. I'm not sure ; you see, it's an awkward size — too large for the English aristocracy, and too small for American millionaires ! Colonel. Gad, we must get something between the two ; anyhow, set about it at once, won't you ? And keep it as quiet as possible. (Piano starts off l.) Quayne. Very well, Sir Bruce, if your mind is made up ! (Door l.i.e. opens and Miss Agatha appears ; she hears the next few words without being observed.) Colonel (looking round, without seeing her). Jove, Quayne, for two hundred years the Kederbys have been here ; and now it's going, through my damned stupidity ! (Pulling himself up.) Well, the only thing is to take it standing Quayne (quietly). Like a Kederby ! Colonel (smiling). Yes, like a Kederby. (Sud- denly sees Miss Agatha.) Hullo, Agatha ! (Indi- cating l.i.e.) Is that Lady Nora playing ? Miss A. Yes, I asked her. I preferred her play- ing to her talking. But both jar ! Go in, and have your turn ! (Colonel hesitates.) Mr. Quayne will entertain me ! A.t II. ] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 65 Colonel. There's a directness about your re- marks, Agatha, which is very refreshing ! (Exit L.I.E.) (Piano stops.) Miss A. (to Quayne). Are you a sensible man ? Quayne. I have two reputations — one amongst the clients for whom I have won cases, the other amongst those for whom I have lost them ! You have to put me to the test before you find out ! Miss A. Do you know much about mv affairs ? Be frank ! Quayne. Only hearsay ; I gathered that you had lost the most of your money through bad invest- ments ! Miss A. (chuckling). Man alive, you don't think I'm as big a fool as my brother, do you ? Quayne (looking at her quickly). You mean ? Miss A. That it suited my purpose to tell that tale. There, that's in confidence. Now, I want you to tell me clearly about all this muddle Bruce has got into. I came here to find out. Quayne. To help Sir Bruce ? Miss A. (gruffly). Oh, there's no sentiment ; I'm not a bit soft-hearted, only I don't want the Kederby name pulled through the mud, that's all. Now, will you come and have a talk in the garden ? Quayne. It would hardly be professional — as his solicitor ! Miss A. (in exasperated tones). As my solicitor, then? Quayne (offering his arm). Delighted ! Miss A. I shall, I think, find you sensible. Come along ! (Exit both r.u.e.) (Door opens r.i.e. Ronnie enters. Piano off l. has started again. Enter Dolly and Hook through windows l.u.e.) 66 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO • " [Act II. Ronnie. I've been wondering where you two were ! Hook. We've been enjoying the rhododendrons by moonlight. Dolly (coming down stage). Nora still at it — who's with her ? We've just seen the old lady strolling with Mr. Quayne. Lucky man that ! Ronnie {going l.i.e.); Let's come along in and see. Jove, she plays rippingly ! (Exit l.i.e. , followed by Dolly.) (Hook strolls up stage to windows r.u.e. He looks out intently.) Hook (lighting a cigarette). There they are, arm in arm, she happier than she's ever been before ! And I've made her think I don't care. Don't care ! It was pretty tough work, but what's the odds if she's happy. I'd do a jolly sight more — yes, a jolly sight (Stops suddenly as he turns and sees Seaton.) (Enter Seaton.) Seaton. Hook ! Hook. What, Seaton ! What on earth are you doing here ? (They shake hands.) Seaton. I came over with Ouayne. Hook. Well, I am glad to see you. Come and have a drink in the billiard room, and we'll chow together, or would you rather sit here and smoke ? (Producing a cigar case and offering it to him.) Seaton (taking cigar, sitting down l.). Thanks, it is very pleasant here ! Hook. Well, I am glad to see you. How did you leave the boys down under ? (Sits R.c.) Seaton. Some of them doing well. Some gone to the devil and others going, just as I was going after that trouble of mine out there. Hook, old Act II.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 67 chap, I've never had an opportunity of telling you what you saved me from. I should have been worse than any one of them, had you not pulled me up in time. I have never told you my history. Some day I may. But for the present I am in your debt all along the line, and when the time comes — (rises and shaking hands with Hook) and it may, one never knows — you have only to ask and I am yours, all the way. Hook. Oh, that's all right ; I am glad you pulled round. (Enter Wynne, who walks slowly down. Seaton has his back to him, and is engaged in lighting a cigar. Hook turns to Wynne.) Ah, we've been wanting you, Sir Christopher ! Here's another man from Australia. Seaton. Oh, really, I wonder if I know him ! (Seaton rises from his seat, and faces Wynne. They both give a start of recognition ; Wynne draws back with a scowl ; Seaton places his hands behind his back and smiles.) Hook (staring at them in surprise, mechanically). Mr. Seaton — Sir Christopher Wynne. (Door opens l.i.e., and Dolly enters, followed by Colonel. Wynne moves down stage quickly.) Colonel. Ah, so you two have got together at last! Seaton (slowly). Yes, we've met at last ! Colonel (crossing to Wynne, who has come down stage r.). Kit, my boy, is this right what they have been telling me ? Wynne (nervously). About Madge ? (Colonel nods.) Yes, with your consent, sir. Colonel (shaking hands, warmly). Delighted to give it, Kit. Nothing could have pleased me better ! 68 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act II. (Madge enters r.u.e. ; she sees Wynne with Colonel, comes hesitatingly down stage to fountain. Seaton is looking intently across to Wynne. As Madge comes opposite to him, he looks at her.) Dolly (crosses to Wynne). Best wishes, Kit. Wynne {biting his lips, summoning a smile) . Thanks! Seaton (to Madge). Though a comparative stranger, I trust you will allow me to add my con- gratulations. Madge. It is very good of you ! (Shakes hands and sits on seat L.) (They go on talking ; Seaton shoots a hesitating glance at Wynne, when his face hardens. Hook is stand- ing behind them ; he watches Seaton with a puzzled glance.) Dolly (to Colonel). We never had the hundred up you promised me, Sir Bruce ! Colonel. We mustn't have any " breaks " in our billiard promises, must we ? Are you game now ? Dolly. Did you ever know me back out, Sir Bruce ? (Colonel laughs, and they make their exit r.i.e.) (Wynne sits down by table r. and picks up a news- paper. Hook up stage l. Madge has sat down on seat l. Seaton is standing before her.) Seaton (to Madge, with a short laugh). Yes, Miss Kederby, smooth enough in your case, I admit. But sometimes the course of true love takes a very crooked turn. Madge. Oh, not so very often, surely. Seaton. I came across a case in point a few days ago ; it was rather interesting. Shall I tell you ? Madge. Do, please. Seaton (puffing his cigar, deliberately). It began Act II.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 69 this way : two men who had gone to seek their for- tune abroad came together in one of those places where fortunes are supposed to be made. (Wynne sits l.) They were both down on their luck, both Englishmen. So they chummed, fought the world together, shared the few ha'pence, endured the more than plentiful kicks ! Are you interested ? Madge. Very, please go on ! (At table down stage r. Wynne is listening eagerly.) Seaton. Well, there were only a few years be- tween them ; they got on fairly well together, con- sidering they were failures. Then one day the elder fell in love with a girl out there ; she was just a pretty slip of a girl, the daughter of an old schoolmaster. He fell deeply, really in love with her, and she re- turned it. Immediately the dream he had of becom- ing rich fell away from him ; all he desired was a small competence, and marriage out there with the slip of a girl. Madge. And did it come to pass ? Seaton. It was rather curious ! The younger man, the " chum " of course, shared the other's confidences. (Madge looks up quickly.) The chum becomes suddenly possessed of great wealth, left him by a relative, and prepares to clear out. About this time the elder man goes up country about a job he was in hopes of getting. In his absence the chum, instead of clearing out, devotes his attention to the girl ; remember, his position is changed, he is now a rich man. The result — he turns the girl's head, secures her love ! She writes the other man a letter telling him of it. Madge. How mean ! And did she marry the younger man ? 70 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act IL Seaton (throwing down cigarette). No, he was only amusing himself ! He was fascinated with her pretty face ; when he tired he left abruptly — she broke her heart ! Madge (looking up at Seaton). Oh ! How did it all end ? Seaton. The end ! The elder man came back ; he would not have minded her marrying the other if it would have made her happy ; you see he loved her so. But he found her broken-hearted ; she could not love him again. (Pause, slowly.) A few months afterwards she vanished, a wasted life, wasted for nothing ! (Looking at Wynne.) (Wynne's face down stage has grown very stem ; he is controlling himself with an effort. Hook is also watching with curiosity.) Madge. Oh, it is cruel, cruel ! Seaton (his tone quickening). Now, the elder man, the man whose happiness was ruined, is back in England ; things came right for him also, that is, right in a certain way. I often wonder if he were to meet the other face to face what revenge he would take. Do you think he would be justified in taking revenge, Miss Kederby ? (Wynne rises to his feet and turns towards them, his feet agitated. Hook stares at him with strained face.) Madge (firmly). I think any revenge would be justified. Seaton (quickly). You think that ? (Slips his hand into his pocket and produces a photograph.) Then look on this ; it is the picture of the man who stole (He holds it out. With a sudden movement Hook dashes forward and tears it from him.) Hook (fiercely). There's no need ; I'm not going to lie ! Seaton. Yes, but Hook Act II.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 71 (Seaton starts back with an exclamation ; Hook clutches him by the sleeve. Madge rises too, crosses to Wynne fearfully.) Hook. I admit it — admit it all ! And you've had your revenge before my friends, haven't you ? (Seaton looks slowly round at Wynne ; Madge has linked her arm within his.) You thought I did not recognize you in that beard, but I knew you at once, knew what you were going to do directly you began ! Are you satisfied ? (Seaton stands undecided. Hook's tone changes.) You've stopped my career here ; but I deserve it, more than deserve it ! (Sinks down on seat, fairies his face in his hands.) Wynne. But, Hook Madge (pulling Wynne's arm). Come, Kit dear ! (Wynne is staring wildly at the pair ; Hook looks up suddenly at Seaton.) Hook. Have you anything more to say ? Seaton (with an effort, slowly). No — nothing ! (Wynne slowly allows himself to be led off by Madge r.i.e.) Curtain. ACT III Scene. — Same as Act I. Morning-room at Barstone Grange. Time. — Three months later. The room is in darkness as the curtain rises, the French windows up stage l. being closed and the curtains drawn. The room has a somewhat forlorn appear- ance ; the ornaments, photos and trifles personal to the Kederbys have vanished, and only the bare fur- niture and pictures remain. An auctioneer s bill announcing sale is hanging over fireplace. (Rodd enters r.i.e., stumps across and pulls the cur- tains aside, letting in the morning sunshine ; he opens the window wide.) Rodd (looking round, giving his leg a contented smack). This is good, Rodd, my boy ! I never thought as W I should be back here. (Crossing over to fireplace and taking hold of bill.) The place sold, lock, stock and barrel not a month ago, and 'ere I am back again with the new proprietor. Gad ! you could have knocked me over with a feather. I looked as stoopid as a noo recruity when she sent for me and told me the noos ! (Tearing down the bill and putting it in fireplace, picking up poker.) Jove ! we're going to live once more ; live ! I feel that young and light-hearted, I'd like to be in front of the devils again ! (Lunging with poker.) There, there ! (Enter Miss Agatha r. She has in her hand a vase and a duster. Rodd suddenly stops.) 72 Act TIL] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLExMAN DO t" 73 Miss A. Playing the fool again ! (With candle- sticks, puts them on table.) Rodd. Beg pardon, ma'am ! Mere exooberance of spirits ; I'm a boy at heart this morning. Miss A. You're in your second childhood ! (Go- ing to table.) This is the last room, isn't it ? (Picking up candlesticks off table and putting them on mantel- piece.) Rodd (coming to table) The very last, ma'am. The others are as bright and fresh as the day we left. Mrs. Swan 'as been working like the very dev (Stops himself as Miss Agatha stares at him), most conscientiously, ma'am. Miss A. Get the things that were brought up this morning. Rodd. Nothing could bring greater pleasure to my old 'eart ! Miss A. Do as you're told, and don't talk so much . (Rodd salutes and makes his exit jauntily r. Miss Agatha crosses with vase to piano l. She dusts the top briskly. Quayne enters through windows. He sees Miss Agatha, and comes down stage quickly with a smile.) Quayne. Good-morning, Miss Kederby ! Glad to see you back. You carried it through beautifully. Miss A. My solicitors bought it without giving any details ? Quayne (laughing). Yes. Miss A. Good ! Now about my brother ? (Com- ing from fire.) Is he straight now ? Quayne. Yes, I'm glad to say he is. With the money he got from the sale of the Grange he has cleared off all his liabilities, and doesn't owe a penny. Miss Madge, of course, is provided for. Miss A. Not badly, either. Thirty thousand a year ! Quayne (thoughtfully). But Sir Bruce would not trade on that ! 74 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. Miss A. No — -he's a fool where money is concerned, but he's a Kederby all through. And I'm not sorry. He wouldn't have accepted the money even from me, so I had to get round him by playing this trick. (Gruffly.) Given me a lot of trouble. Quayne (looking at her thoughtfully). I think you rather like it. Miss A. (sharply). Like what ? Quayne. Oh, doing good by stealth, shall we say. Miss A. (angrily). Doing good ! Do you think I'm doing this for his sake ? Quayne. I shouldn't be surprised. Miss A. Then you're an idiot ! I never do good intentionally. (Putting candlesticks on mantelpiece.) Quayne. Still we all make mistakes sometimes. (Laughing.) You took Miss Banter into your confi- dence ? Miss A. Yes, I had to. I got her to insist that Bruce and Madge on leaving here should stay at Mr. Banter's house until things had got settled. That girl has got her head screwed on the right way. Quayne (aside). Neither of them beat about the bush much ! (Enter Rodd r. ; he has the Colonel's sword tucked under one arm, a large framed picture of Madge under the other, and in his hands a collection of photo frames and ornaments. He crosses to table. Miss Agatha comes down after Rodd has got to table.) Hullo, Rodd, glad to get back ? Rodd. Glad ain't the word, sir ; it's more de- lirium ! (Drops his collection of things on table, takes up the picture again, rubs the glass lovingly.) To think, sir, that in another few minutes, she 'erself Miss A. Don't splutter, man ! Get on ! (Crosses to piano with vase.) Rodd (shaking his head at Quayne with a knowing smile, in a whisper). Ain't she just a treat, sir? Act III.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" 75 (Quayne down stage glances at watch / Dolly enters through window. She has a basket full of fresh cut flowers ; she conies down stage to table quickly.) Dolly. Hullo, Mr. Quayne ; goin' strong ? We're havin' great games this morning. You're in the know, aren't you ? Quayne. Yes, quite " in the know." Dolly. We're simply chock full of work. (Point- ing to piano.) Here, get me that vase, there's a good sort. (He obeys with a smile.) Miss A. (regarding Rodd's work). Do you call that straight, you (Pushing Rodd.) Rodd (eagerly). Say it, ma'am ; it'll do me good. (Miss Agatha turns away.) Lord, she was cut out for a drill sergeant ! (Puts picture straight.) Dolly (putting flowers in vase). Not an awful good hand at this sort of thing, you know ; but still, how's that ? (Holds up vase for inspection.) Quayne. It's the work of a great artist. Dolly. Pickles ! Just drop it on the piano again for me, will you ? (He does so.) Miss A, (to Rodd, who is gazing in rapt admiration at his handiwork) . Rodd ! (He starts, turns round and salutes hurriedly.) Don't stand there like a bran-filled dummy ! Put the sword up. (Goes to piano) Rodd (hurries down stage, gets sword and returns ; looks at Miss Agatha in admiration) . What a splen- did mother of soldiers she'd have made. (Takes sword from its sheath, kisses its blade lovingly, salutes with it, then proceeds to put it in its place over the picture.) 76 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. Dolly (to Quayne). Did you forward that letter I sent you ? Quayne. I did. (To Miss Agatha.) I must be going now, Miss Kederby. I'll look in again later, when Sir Bruce is here. Miss A. Yes, you may be able to explain things better to him ; he might feel grateful towards me, and I couldn't stand that. Quayne (laughing). Very well. Au revoir, Miss Banter. Dolly. So long ! (Exit Quayne l.2.e.) Miss A. Now, Rodd, get along to the smoking- room, and put the Colonel's things there all ready for him. Sharp ! Rodd (marching towards r.i.e.). Sharp's the word, ma'am. (Chuckling, aside.) I'm a babby in 'er hands, reg'lar babby ; but I like it. I know I shall forget myself and call her Lizzie. (Exit.) Miss A. (dusting a photograph and putting it in position). There is no mistake about their coming ? Sir Bruce got the letter from my solicitors this morn- ing ? Dolly (laughing). Yes, it was all beautifully mysterious. He read it out to us at breakfast. At first Madge wasn't coming, but I made her promise, then slipped away, saying I wanted to see a pal about something. (Putting vases on mantelpiece.) Miss A. A pal ? You mean me ! Dolly (busy putting flowers about room). Yes, I reckon you as a pal ! You see, you took me into your confidence. (Turning round.) Do you know I've got quite to like you. Miss A. (sitting to table, smiling grimly). And do you know that I once remarked that you were as elegant as a fishwife. Act III.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 77 Dolly (smiling). It don't matter. I know my style's bad, but it's my own. (Going to mantelpiece with vase.) What has happened, then ; have you hedged a bit on your opinion ? Miss A. Not about the style. But I wanted some one with sense, with no sentimental nonsense about her. Dolly (coming down, crossing to piano, thoughtfully, aside). No sentimental nonsense ! (Turning with a laugh to Miss A.) Well, I'm glad you thought of me for the job. It has been awfully entertaining. (Putting the last photo up.) Oh, by the way, you remember the one bargain I made ? Miss A. You said I was to invite that curious Hook person here. I left it in your hands ; did you find out where he is ? Dolly. Yes ; I sent a letter through Mr. Quayne, asking him to come. Miss A. (glancing at her sharply). I'm not in- quisitive, but — why should you particularly want him to come here ? Dolly (putting photo on piano). You remember what I told you about what I heard that night from the billiard room ? Miss A. I have forgotten. He did something rather melodramatic, didn't he ? But even if he did, was it necessary for me to have him here in person ? Dolly. Yes, very necessary. It's a question of fair play. (Going to piano.) Miss A. (glancing at her sharply). Yes, of course, fair play, and nothing else. And how are you going to see this effected ? Dolly. You must wait and see. (Facing Miss Agatha, impulsively.) He's a bit rough, but he isn't a wrong 'un, really. Give each horse, a fair chance, you know ; that's my motto, and I think it's yours too. That's why I stuck out for having him down. (Dusting chair l.) Miss A. (rising). I think I shall learn a new Ian- 78 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. guage if I'm much longer with you. (Crossing r.i.e., turning round at door.) I didn't tell you, but as a matter of fact, I wanted to see this Hook man myself. That's why I agreed to his coming here. Dolly. You ? „ Miss A. Yes, and there's just one other I want to see — that scamp of a boy, Ronald. (Opening door.) I suppose I must get ready to receive that idiot brother of mine. (Exit.) ■ Dolly (shaking her head). What's up with Ron- nie ? (Cross r., front of table to top.) Oh, I don't catch on, not a little bit. (Sits on edge of table, re- flectively.) Yes, I'm glad I found out what I did that night. (Arranging the flowers in vase.) He's real good is Dickie, and I'm not going to let Madge go on thinking he is the blackguard he made himself out to be. If Kit isn't man enough to tell her, I will. (Getting off table, going up stage to windows.) Yes, if I had not known, perhaps in time Dickie would — no, I've no sentimental nonsense about me. I'm a sportsman, and Dickie's goin' to have a fair run for his happiness, whether he likes it or not. (Picks up jug and basket.) (Exit through window) (Enter Rodd l.2.e., holding door open with air of mysterious importance . Enter Colonel and Madge . ) Rodd. This way, Sir Bruce. Colonel. What on earth are you doing here, Rodd ? (Top of table c.) I thought we had settled you were to be lodge keeper at the Park ? Rodd. Couldn't tear myself away from the old place, sir. New owner insisted I should come too ! Would take absolutely no denial, sir. Colonel (to Madge). That mysterious new owner again ! (To Rodd.) Can't you enlighten us, Rodd? Act III.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 71) Rodd (saluting). First time I ever disobeyed your wish, sir ; but sacred word of honour, you know, sir. (Cross R. above table.) Colonel (with a shrug, seating himself at table). We must be patient then. Rodd (stumping excitedly to r.i.e.). I will an- nounce your arrival, sir. The new owner won't be a moment. (Opening door.) The new owner ! Ha ! ha ! I must see his face ! (Exit.) . (The Colonel is sitting at the table with his head resting on his arm, staring straight in front of him. Madge glances round the room uneasily, then looks at him. She steps lightly round to him and puts her hand on his shoulder.) Madge. I know it's very hard, father dear ! Colonel. Yes, it's pretty rough coming back as a casual visitor. (Sighing.) Still, if one does make a mess of things ! Madge. You didn't ! It was only a misfortune ! No one could foresee that the company would be a failure. It does not matter so much to me, dear, only I am so sorry for you ! Colonel (looking at her with a smile). Brave little Madge ! (Kisses her.) There, we mustn't quarrel with what had to be. (Rising, twisting his moustache.) The Kederbys never did that. (Turn 1 ing round and surveying the room.) Still, I wonder what all this humbug means about keeping the real purchaser's name a secret. (Turn down l.) Don't see through it myself. Madge (wanders up to fireplace). Look, father, your sword ! Colonel (going up to her). Your picture, too ! Madge. And the photographs, the things the Banters stored for us in their lumber room. (They turn and face one another in bewildered fashion.) 80 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" [Act III. Colonel. Well, the mystery's getting a trifle ludicrous, isn't it ? (Rodd enters r.i.e., holding door open.) Rodd. The new owner, sir ! (Miss Agatha enters. Rodd shuts the door, and hastily turns to survey the Colonel's and Madge's astonishment. He rubs his hands in glee.) Madge. Aunt Agatha ! (In amazement.) Colonel (shrugging his shoulders, coming down L.C.). Oh, I give it up ! Rodd (excitedly'). It's right enough, Sir Bruce ! After all, the old 'ome ! Miss A. (r. of table). Rodd, leave the room ! Rodd (crestfallen, opening door). Sarvesme right ! sarves me right ! (Exit.) Miss A. Now, Bruce, I hate long-winded explana- tions, so here it is all in a nutshell. I bought the Grange because I didn't fancy its falling into some jam-maker's hands. Madge (l.c.). But we thought you had lost most of your money in speculation — like father. Miss A. (r. of table). Bruce, was I ever so silly as you ? Colonel (l. of table). Never, Agatha, never ! Still, you gave us the impression of being poor — an independent old woman with a few hundreds a year — something like that, wasn't it ? Miss A. Probably. I came here because I heard you were heavily hit financially. I knew you wouldn't accept money from me, so thought of this way of doing things. (Hastily.) Not from any idea of helping you, only I didn't want to see the name in the mud — understand ? Colonel. Oh, fully. (Crosses l.) (Madge up l.c.) Act III.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 81 Miss A. Very well, will you come and live here with me then ? Take up your old position. Colonel. But the house will be yours ! (Down L.) Miss A. Yes ; but you're to be the master ! I couldn't bear a male Kederby taking a back seat ! (Turning away.) There, now you know all about it — yes or no ? Madge (going to her). It's splendid of you, aunt. Miss A. Don't be superfluous ! Colonel (l.c). Hang it all, Agatha, I must say something ! It is generous of you, one of the things only met with once in a lifetime. Miss A. Yes or no, Bruce ? Colonel (with a shrug). Of course, yes. Miss A. Then go into your study. There are some papers waiting for you to sign. The sooner we get these bothering little things over, the sooner we can resume our normal position. Colonel (hurriedly to r.i.e.). Oh, a normal position is everything ! I hardly know whether I'm on my head or my heels ! (Opens door.) (Exit r.i.e.) Madge (crossing r.c. to Miss Agatha, touching her on the arm). Aunt ! Miss A. (turning round sharply). Well ? Madge. Do let me thank you. You don't know how happy you have made me. Miss A. Why ? You will soon be leaving here ! Madge. It nearly broke father's heart to give up the Grange ; he was so brave, he did not show it, but I knew ! I love him so much, and — now I love you ! You'll let me, won't you ? (Gently yet half fearfully she puts her arm round Miss Agatha's neck. There is a pause, then Miss Aga- tha suddenly bends and kisses her lightly. She draws back at once, and releases herself fr cm Madge's embrace.) 82 "WHAT WOULD A • GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. Miss A. (gruffly). That's not to become a habit, mind ! (Exit.) Madge (r.c, laughing). The old dear ! (Taking off hat at fireplace, crossing to table, picking up photo.) It was the one thing wanting to complete my happi- ness. (Taking off hat.) Oh, it is lovely to be back home again. (Enter Dolly through window quickly ; Madge turns, puts hat on chair.) Dolly. Hullo, Madge ! Madge. Dolly ! [Running forward and taking her hands.) Why, you must have known all along ! (Crosses above table.) Dolly (goes below table, laughing). Yes, the old lady put me in the know and we worked it together. I tell you what, Madge, your aunt is a first-class sort, although she does hit out straight from the shoulder. Madge. I can hardly believe it all yet ! (Going to piano.) (They wander down stage together ; Dolly picks a flower out of vase on table, and fingers it reflectively. Madge looks at Kit's photo.) Dolly. Any news of Kit ? Madge (smiling). Yes, at last I've had a letter; he hopes to be back to-morrow. It was too bad to become engaged, then immediately for him to be called away to Paris to attend to that bothering French property his uncle left him. Still, it's over now, and I shall have him all to myself. Dolly (plucking the flower to bits slowly). Yes, it will be good. Still, you heard almost every day from him, I suppose. Madge. No, hardly at all. He's a most shocking correspondent, even to me. (Laughing.) I shall take him to task about it. Act HI.] 'WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO?" 83 (Dolly turns and walks up stage towards window.) It will be nice to be back here again when he comes. (She crosses to piano l., and sings a short love song.) (Dolly up stage has turned and is watching her hesi- tatingly, with one hand on the curtain. Suddenly as if she has made up her mind, she takes a step to go down to her. She is on the R. side of windows. She draws back as a shadow falls across the path outside. The next moment Wynne appears at window ; he sees Madge at once, and does not notice Dolly, who has drawn back still further and hides behind curtain. He looks pale and worried ; he steps into the room noiselessly, and pauses a moment, then bracing his shoulders with an effort, goes down stage. Dolly, who has been watching his face, slips quietly away through window. Wynne pauses on the right side of table. Madge turns, sees him, comes towards him with a glad cry of " Kit " ; something in his face impels her to stop ; they face each other, the table between them.) Madge. I say, Dolly ! Kit ! Wynne (speaking in a low, restrained voice). I heard you were here again, and came on at once. (He turns and faces her with an effort.) I Madge (stretching out her hands). It's delightful, Kit, to have you a day sooner. I've been (She lays her hand on the front of his coat.) (He pushes her gently from him and turns away. She sinks into chair L. side of table, watching him won- der in gly.) Wynne. You mustn't touch me ! (Pause, then bursting out.) Madge, I'm going to hurt you. It's better to be done now, it ought to have been done before, only I've been such a coward. Madge. Kit ! What's happened ? Wynne (dropping into chair r. side of table, covering his face in his hands). I'm not worthy of you, not 84 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO?" [Act III. the man you thought me. (Pause, speaking between his teeth.) You remember the night that man Seaton told you of his partner's treachery, had his revenge on Hook before us all ? Madge. Yes, yes ? Wynne. Hook wasn't the man ; he took it upon himself, because he wished to spare you. Madge. To spare me ! Why ? Wynne. To spare you ; can't you guess ? Madge (taking a step towards him, looking at him searchingly.) No, Kit, it was not — don't say it was ! (Wynne bows his head. Madge sinks back into her seat with a sob.) Wynne. The thing came so suddenly, I hardly had time to think ! I was so certain Seaton was going to revenge himself on me ; then, when Hook stepped in with the lie, took it on his shoulders, and Seaton, for some reason, out of pity for you, perhaps, did not speak, I somehow — oh, I know it's no excuse — but the thought of losing you unmanned me. I knew you would turn from me. Madge (sits l. of table, speaking in a low voice). You were the man who stole the girl's love from your friend, made a plaything of her, then deserted her ! Wynne. She did not love him — never did, but he did not know. The moment Seaton left to go up country, I — oh, there is no use telling the miserable story. There is more reason now, God knows, that you should believe his story rather than mine. (Walks across to l.) Directly I had let Seaton go that night without speaking, I felt what a coward I'd been. I had let another man sacrifice his honour to save mine. Every day since has been a torture ! I could not write to you ; every time I took up my pen something seemed to whisper to me — Coward, coward, coward ! There was only one end ! (Turning up stage.) Acrr III.] 'WHAT WOULD A (JENTLEMAN DO?" 85 Madge (repeating words mechanically). Only one end ? Wynne. This : to make a clean breast of it. Madge, to have killed your love like this means more to me than you can guess — more than you can ever know. There is only one thing to atone. To go away. I shall see your father now and tell him everything — then leave for good. Madge (rising). It's all so sudden ; I can't grasp it all yet. Wynne. You must try and forget ; that's all that can be done. (A voice is heard off l., then door L.2.E. opens an inch or so.) Ronnie (off). Rodd, hurry up ; I want to see the governor. (Door shut again.) Madge (moving towards r., below table). Ronnie here ? I can't see him now ! Wynne. Good-bye, all I can hope is that one day you may forget. Madge (looking at him, then turning away with a sob). And I was so happy ! Oh, Kit, Kit ! (Exit.) (Wynne shuts door and crosses c. as Ronnie enters hurriedly L.2.E.) Ronnie. Hullo, Kit, old chap ! So you've got back ? (Shaking hands.) Wynne (turning away). Yes, I've got back. Ronnie. Suppose you've heard the news about Aunt Agatha — how after all she's a regular Croesus ? She wired me to come this morning. Where is she, and the governor, and Madge ? Wynne. I saw Sir Bruce and Miss Kederby in the study as I passed. Madge — has just left here. (Crosses r.i.e.) Ronnie (not noticing Wynne's restrained voice, rattling on). Well, I'd better run and see the old 86 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. folks first ; will come back in a minute or so, old chap ! {Exit r.i.e. at a run.) (Wynne stands c. with folded arms, his brow knitted in thought. Dolly appears at window, sees him, comes down stage quietly. Wynne unfolds his arms, draws a deep breath, turns round and sees Dolly ; she comes to him, looking at his face intently.) D.olly. You've done it, Kit ? (He starts.) Oh, it's no good beating about the bush. I know about the Seaton affair. You didn't play the game that night, Kit Wynne ; but now Wynne. Yes, I've told her. It means giving her up, but I've told her — and I'm glad. Dolly. I'm rather glad, too. (Comes down L.) I didn't fancy having to do the job myself. Wynne. You would have done it ? Why ? Dolly. Because I like to see the game played square. Because there was another man — as good as yourself, Kit. Wynne. Better ! better ! Dolly. Better then, and he was done out of his chance. Wynne (coming down l.). I'm not asking with any thought of myself, mind ; I know I've put myself out of the running, but — is he to have it now ? (Door opens L.i.R. Rodd's voice heard. Wynne starts and looks at Dolly.) Rodd. This way, Mr. Hook. Dolly. Yes, he is. Remember, he deserves it. Play the man, Kit. (Rodd enters, followed by Hook. Wynne turns and walks r. Dolly goes to meet Hook. Rodd crosses stage and exits r.i.e.) Dolly. Hullo, Dickie ! How are you, old chap ? Act III.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ! " 87 Hook (cheerily). Hullo, Dolly ! (Pauses in the act of shaking hands.) I suppose you are on shaking terms with me ? Dolly. Of course, else I shouldn't have sent for you. What have you been doing with yourself all this while ? Hook. Oh, town and fun — fun all the way. (Sees Wynne, aside.) Wynne ! Wynne (turns and crosses half way, holds out his hand). Are you on shaking terms with me ? Hook (shoots a quick glance at Dolly). Why, certainly, Sir Christopher, if you'll do me the honour. Wynne. It is you who do me the honour. Hook (pretending to mistake his meaning, shaking hands warmly). I am getting on with the aristocracy, ain't I, what ! Dolly (comes down l. ; after looking at Wynne she touches Hook on the arm). Dickie, when you left the Grange that night, well, things looked rather up against you, didn't they? Hook (looks significantly at Wynne). Yes, very clumsy of me, you know ; still, couldn't help it — I was found out ! Dolly (quickly). Yes, you were found out, Dickie ! (Hook turns to her with a start.) Wynne (facing him bravely). Hook, I've told Madge everything. Hook. What was the good of my trying to help you ? Heaven helps those who help themselves, but who can help the man who gives the helper away ? Wynne. It had to be done ! (Taking hat off table.) I'm going away now — right away — do you understand ? I shan't be happy, but I shall feel better, knowing I have put you right with her. It must have been pretty hard for you all this time, to know she thought you were the man. Hook (with affected airiness). Didn't worry me 88 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. —haven't given it a thought— I didn't, really. (Down l.) Wynne (cross to Hook). You are the most gener- ous man I have ever met ! (Dolly crosses to fireplace.) But it's your turn now — you deserve it. (With an effort, holding out his hand.) I wish you good luck ! You see, I understand — good luck ! (The two men shake hands, then Wynne turns and walks slowly towards the windows. Hook stares after him, dumbfounded. As Wynne passes through the windows, he makes a start as if to go after him. Dolly lays a restraining hand on him.) Hook (calling). Here, Wynne, look here Dolly (sits r. of table). Let him go, Dickie. He's right — it's his turn to go. (Hook sinks down into a chair by the table and runs his finger round inside his collar.) Hook. Phew ! If I'd known it was going to let me in for more scenes, I wouldn't have come. So I've got to thank you for this, have I ? You write and tell me that old Miss Kederby has bought the place now and would like to see me. I wouldn't have minded meeting even her ; but all the rest, and more scenes. It wasn't quite the thing — with a pal ? Dolly. If Kit hadn't told her, I was going to tell her myself ! I knew all the time ! Hook (rising, with a sigh). Oh, woman, woman ! (Down l., turning suddenly on her.) What have you done it for, eh ? Dolly (rises and goes to Hook). Because I know you love her — because, despite all your talk of having fun all the way, you've been as miserable in London as a man jolly well can be. Hook. You should have seen me at the Empire two nights ago ! (Seriously.) Has she given, him up ? Act III.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 89 Dolly (moves back to table). You heard what he said ; he is going away — right away, there's a clear r< field for you. Go in, old man, and win. Hook (thought fully). A clear field ! Dolly. Yes, with the odds all on you. You see, I don't understand love myself ; it's out of my line. Hook. Yes, quite out of your line ! (Cross l.) Dolly (moving towards r.). But a good many seem to think it's the only prize worth drawing. You're one of 'em, Dickie, so now you've got your chance, do your level best. Hook (raising his voice). Jove, yes, I'll do my level best ! (Moving up l.) Dolly (pausing at door, turning round for a moment). And when you're happy, Dickie, you won't forget the pal who brought you to it. I'm off to find Madge. So long, and good luck ! (Exit R.I.E.) Hook (cross above table r.c). Forget you, Dolly, not me ! You've been a pal all the way. (Looking R., with a smile.) Your chance now ! (Stands for a moment, then shakes his head.) No, thank you ; no, Dickie, my boy ! You w r ere blinded once, not again, not while I'm looking, anyhow. (Enter Miss Agatha r.i.e., followed by Rodd.) Miss A. (to Rodd). Tell Mr. Ronald I want him here ! Rodd. With pleasure, ma'am— with pleasure ! {Exit.) Miss A. (crossing c, sits L. of table). How d'ye do ? Hook (turning to her). Ah, good-morning. I trust I find you in good health ! (Coming down l.) Miss A. (sitting down and contemplating him). I am always in good health ; I was brought up properly. Hook. Ah, there's a lot in that. Give a child fresh air, good diet, plenty of stick (Stopping 90 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. suddenly, nervously.) We've been having some nice weather lately ! Miss A. Have you any idea why I sent for you ? Hook. Not in the least ! Oh, perhaps Miss A. No, I did not want to be entertained. I don't motor, and I haven't read The Morals of Cynthia. Hook (aside). I thought she wouldn't forget to rub that in ! (To Miss Agatha, with laborious politeness.) Well, perhaps you will tell me. Miss A. I wished to say that, until quite recently, I did not fully understand all the ramifications of your connexion with our family. Hook (helplessly). No ; I don't know what you are talking about. (To Miss Agatha, shaking his head.) No good, ma'am. I simply don't — that's all. (Enter Ronnie quickly r.i.e. He starts at seeing Hook.) Ronnie (r.c). Hook ! Hook. Yes, but I don't think you ought to be here ! I'm being interviewed about some " rami- fications." Miss A. It's quite right. My nephew is the ramification. Hook. Well, I've never noticed that before. How are you ? (Crossing to Ronnie, catches him by the arm.) Tell me, what is it ? (Lowering his voice.) Surely not the ? Ronnie (hurriedly). I couldn't help it ; she over- heard me sajdng something about it to Madge the day after you left. (Goes up r.) Miss A. (loudly). I have learnt without much surprise, it is true, that my nephew has been foolish enough to lose a considerable sum through gambling. I understand that you were foolish enough to lend him the money to pay his debts. Hook. We none of us can help being stupid, ma'am. Act III.] WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 91 (Miss Agatha rises and walks round to desk.) (To Ronnie.) I trusted you to keep it dark. Ronnie (aside to Hook). What could I do ? She absolutely insisted. (Miss Agatha has risen and crossed to desk r. ; she opens her cheque book, and tears out a cheque already filled in. She turns round in her seat and looks at Hook.) Miss A. I wasn't about at the time, but now — you understand it would be pleasanter to keep a thing like this in the family. (Holds cheque out.) Hook (to Ronnie). You, you idiot! (To Miss Agatha.) I've learnt it's beastly bad form to talk about your own money ; but it was nothing to me — it was a gift. Miss A. Take it ! Ronnie. Yes, take it, Hook ! (To Miss Agatha.) It's awfully generous of you, aunt ! I don't know how to thank you sufficiently. Miss A. There's no call for gratitude ! You've got to pay every penny of it back, and very probably interest at five per cent. too. (Ronnie turns away with a shrug.) Don't waste my time, please. Hook (taking it reluctantly, gazing at it). I suppose I must. Miss A. Of course ! Whatever else I may be, I'm a business woman ! Hook (crossing to her, points to cheque). Er — well — then you might sign it. (Miss Agatha looks at it sharply, then almost snatches it away from Hook and signs it quickly. Ronnie goes into a fit of suppressed laughter.) (Aside to Ronnie.) I think I got her there, what ! Miss A. (returning cheque to Hook). I had made 92 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. it out previously and did not wish to leave it about signed. You will find it correct now. Hook (cramming it carelessly into pocket, cheerily). Oh, I daresay, I daresay ! Miss A. (rising and coming down r.). All that remains now is to thank you for the interest you have been good enough to take in our family, and Hook. Wish me " good-morning," I suppose. Miss A. No, ask you to stay to lunch. (Holding out her hand.) Will you ? Hook (grasping it, surprised). Delighted, abso- lutely delighted. Miss A. You will excuse me entertaining you for a few minutes. Hook. She's at it again ! Miss A. You'll find people about the house and garden ! If you don't say anything silly to them, they'll say something silly to you ! (Exit R.I.E.) Hook (looking after her). What a philosopher ! (Sits front of table.) Ronnie (goes to Hook, laughing). She's a brick in her own way. Hook, she must have taken a fancy to you to invite you to lunch. It's funny after (He stops suddenly and glances at Hook in a confused manner. Crosses R.) Hook (quietly). Say it out ! You wonder that she should do so after what occurred that night ? Isn't that so ? Ronnie (confused). Well, I — that is (Hook is smiling.) Why, what is it ; was there some mistake after all ? Hook. Yes, there was some — misunderstanding. I fancy your aunt must have guessed it, that's all ! (Turns and walks up stage towards window.) Ronnie (following him). By Jove, I'm glad ! I never really thought it of you, Hook. The man and Act 111. J -WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO?" \)3 the thing didn't go together, somehow. Won't you tell me about it ? Hook. No, not that. You see, it's not quite all mine to tell. What do you say to a stroll in the garden ? Ronnie. Right ! (He links his arm within Hook's, and the two are just about to step through the windows when Dolly and Madge enter r.i.e. Dolly has her arm affec- tionately round Madge.) Dolly. I thought it best to rout you out, Madge I (Hook turns and sees Madge. Looking up stage he disengages his arm.) Hook (aside to Ronnie). We'll take that stroll by and bye, Ronnie. (Madge and Dolly see the others. Madge gives a little start.) Dolly (going up stage quickly to Ronnie). Say, Ronnie, your aunt tells me she has bought a new gee for the Colonel. Take me round the stable, there's a good boy ! Ronnie. Why, of course, come along 1 (Dolly looks at Hook and Madge laughingly.) (Ronnie makes his exit through windows.) (Madge walks slowly c. Dolly pauses at window, Hook is near her.) Dolly (aside to Hook). Now's your chance, Dickie ! Level best, remember ! Hook. Aye, aye ! Level best ! (He turns down stage.) (Dolly gives one last glance, then with a shrug makes her exit.) (Hook comes slowly down stage. Madge turns, and they face one another. There is a pause.) 94 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" [Act III. Hook (putting hand to his head nervously) . Charm- ing weather for this time of year (Madge puts out her hand impulsively ; he breaks off suddenly and shakes it warmly.) Ah, that's good, that's good ! Madge (half whisperingly). I might have known you would never have done a thing like that ! (Turn- ing away sorrowfully.) You wanted to let me keep my happiness, and acted nobly ; I can only thank you — thank you very much. Hook (jerkily). I wish you wouldn't ; I somehow don't seem to care much for thanks just now. Madge (seating herself at table, speaking with her head turned away from Hook). You know — he told me himself — this morning. Hook. Yes, remember that ; it's a great thing. (Significantly.) He told you himself. Madge (speaking in mechanical tones). And you have come back — you, who have done so much to prove your love ! Hook (taking a step forward ; her back is towards him). You must not think of that, little lady! That belongs to the past ; it is all done with. I know now what I'm fit for, and it isn't to be your husband. Madge (turning away, with a sob). And he is going away — he said so ! (Going up r. to armchair.) Hook. Yes, that's what he ought to do — atone for his fault like a man. But you — what are you going to do ? (Madge does not answer ; she is sobbing.) I'm only a rough card, but I want to see you happy. I knew it would come to this some time or other, and that's why I came down. I knew, and I haven't been idle all this time in London— regular busy I've been, one way and another. Madge (looking up). Busy ? Act III.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" 95 Hook (r. of table). After that night we talked a lot about Seaton's affair, and presently I sent a cable or two, and got answers. Madge. What did you discover ? Hook. The girl wasn't worth it ! She was only playing with Seaton ; she never loved him, could never love any one. Madge. But does Mr. Seaton know this ? Hook. He does now, and asked me to tell you. Madge. If I only knew what to do ! Hook. Do as your heart tells you to. Madge. Ah, if I only knew what was right ! {Exit through windows, then r.) Hook (looking after her). Another minute's con- versation, and it will be all right. {Enter Dolly behind him ; touches him on the arm.) Dolly. How's it going, Dickie ? Hook (turning round, pause, then shaking her sud- denly by the hand). Splendid, I think ! Result not yet out ! (Exit after Madge.) Dolly (entering room with a shrug). Well, he deserves his win if any man does. (Enter Colonel and Miss Agatha r.i.e.) Miss A. That's enough of it, Bruce ! If you did find your favourite brand of cigar in the smoking room, what then ? Any one would think I had put them there to please you. Dolly (laughing). So she did, Sir Bruce ! Those cigars cost her no end of trouble to get, but she was dead set on 'em. (Enter Ronnie.) Colonel (laughing). A woman who can buy a man's cigars satisfactorily is a woman in a thousand ! 96 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " [Act III. My dear Agatha, you have once more proved your sterling worth. Miss A. Bruce, your conversation is approaching the nauseating ! Ronnie (to Colonel). I say, dad, have you seen the gee Aunt Agatha has got you in place of Min- strel ? He's a regular ripper. Colonel (to Miss Agatha, much gratified). What, more surprises, Agatha ? Really there is no end to your Miss A. If you wish to bore me to death, Bruce, say so. (Sits on sofa.) (Enter Wynne quickly through windows ; he comes to a halt, and hesitates when he sees the others.) Colonel. Why, Kit, I did not know you had returned. Wynne. Yes, I got back this morning. Colonel, (shaking hands with him). Delighted to have you with us again, dear boy ! Wynne (crossing to Miss Agatha, awkwardly). How do you do, Miss Kederby ? Miss A. I enjoy the best of health, thank you. (Crosses c.) Ronnie. I say, dad, you really must see the gee ! (Taking hold of his arm.) He's a beauty. Come along, Dolly. Dolly. Rather ; you can't bore me with a horse. (Exit with Ronnie.) Colonel. I think I must go. But you must come too, Agatha ! I insist ! Miss A. Very well ; but mind, I vanish on hearing a single word of thanks ! (Follows Colonel.) Colonel. My dear Agatha, I promise to be un- gratefulness itself ! (Offers his arm to Miss Agatha ; looks round at Wynne.) Won't you come, Kit ? Wynne. No, thanks, I — I rather want to have a word alone with you later ; I'll wait in the library. Act III.] "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ?" 97 Colonel. Oh, very well ! I'll return presently. {Exit with Miss Agatha.) (Hook appears on path up stage ; looks off l., then to Wynne. Enters room.) Hook. Hi, Sir Christopher ! (Coming down l.c.) Wynne (pausing with hand on door). Yes ? Hook. Like to say a word to you — congratula- tions ! Wynne. You've got what you deserve. (Crosses c.) Hook. Well, not yet ; but I've just had a talk with the little lady, by the fountain. You know the fountain ; nice pretty old fountain, isn't it ? Wynne (a). Yes. It was there, Hook, I first told her that I loved her. Hook (l.c). Wouldn't it be rather a good idea if you were to tell her so again — there ? Wynne (starting). What do you mean, Hook ? Hook. It just occurred to me, you know. I'm thundering good at ideas. (Changing his tone, catch- ing hold of Wynne's hand.) Look here, we've straight- ened the skein a bit ! She still loves you. Wynne (a). Still loves me ! After Hook. Yes ; wonderful, ain't it ? But that's how a woman's built. (Leading him towards window.) She still loves you, and that's all there is to it ! (Goes up l.c.) So get along right away. Wynne (turning). But you (Follows him up.) Hook. Oh, that was a long time ago. I'm all right ; just you wait and see. She's there, I tell you, and by the fountain. Go on, what are you waiting here for ? Wynne (at windows). By Jove, you're a brick ! (Turns round and grasps Hook's hand impulsively.) (Exit.) Hook (looks off r., after him). Well, that's all gay ! (Coming down.) 98 " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " LAct III. (Miss Agatha comes along the path l. Hook swings round, and they face one another) Miss A. And what's " all gay " ? Hook. Kit and Madge are together again. Miss A. (up l.c., entering room). Of course ! What a pack of sentimental fools you all are, with heroic notions of giving up things for each other's sakes. Thank Heaven I'm not sentimental. Hook. No, she ain't. Miss A. (turns and goes back to windows ; looks at Hook). What are you going to do ? Hook. That's funny, everybody's asking me that. Miss A. (looking off path l.). Here's my pal again. (Looks at Hook as if with sudden inspiration.) I've an idea. Get into that chair there. Hook. Not me ; I had enough of that chair once before. Miss A. Do as I tell you, else Hook. Well, what ? Miss A. No lunch ! Quick ! Hook. That settles it. (Goes to chair.) I'm in it again. (Enter Dolly quickly.) Miss A. (at chair l. of table). Well, how has your precious scheme worked out ? Dolly (l.c, sitting at piano). Oh, Kit Wynne played the man — told her and has given her up. Quite the right thing ; he is going clean away. Miss A. (with a sniff). Oh, is he ? (Giving glance at chair.) And this Hook, this utter creature, is to be transformed into a tinsel imitation hero and carry all before him with flying colours. Dolly. He loves her, and has done a lot to show it. He's a good 'un, and any happiness he gets he more than deserves. (At piano.) Miss A. And why should you be so extremely anxious to secure this — (another glance at chair) — this person's happiness for him ? Act III.] " WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO ? " 99 Dolly (nervously). I told you once. I'm a good sportsman, and like to see a race fairly run. Dickie Hook deserves to win, and I wanted to help him — that's all the reason. Miss A. Shall I tell you the real one ? Dolly. Can if you like. (Sits l. at piano.) Miss A. You love him. (Moving to Dolly.) Dolly (laughing nervously). Guess again ; 'tain't my line ! Miss A. You love him ! Bah ! you can't deceive me ! I've seen it from the start ! I tell you, you love him. Dolly (turns and faces Miss Agatha ; after a pause). Yes, • 3 T ou're right. I love Dickie Hook, there ! I know I'm a fool. Miss A. (laughing grimly, moving towards door r.i.e.). Yes, I'm afraid you're another of 'em. (Stopping at chair, tapping Hook on shoulder with lorgnettes) Why, here's this person. (Severely.) Have you been eavesdropping ? Hook. Oh, no ; sound asleep. Miss A. Oh, indeed, then you'll excuse me again. Hook (looking towards Dolly) . Certainly ; I don't need any entertaining, thanks. (Exit Miss Agatha r.i.e.) (Hook and Dolly look at each other ; pause) Dolly (nervously, in a rush). Of course, you quite understand, Dickie, I didn't mean a word of what you overheard just now ; it was only — only a kind of a joke. Hook. Oh, of course not ; only a sort of a kind of a joke. Dolly (with a sigh of relief). Then that's all right. What's the news ? (Goes to him.) Past the post yet? Hook. Glorious news, Dolly. Dolly. What, she has ? 100 "WHAT WOULD A GENTLEMAN DO I" [Act III. Hook. Yes, she has taken Kit back. (Goes up L. of table ; leads her to window and points off.) Dolly (crosses R.c., delighted). But what are you going to do ? Hook. That question again. (To Dolly.) Well, I thought of asking you to marry me. Dolly. Look here, Dickie, a joke's a joke, but (Comes down c.) Hook. Yes, a joke's a joke ; but this is dead earnest. Dolly. But, Dickie, you loved Madge. Hook. I did love her, I won't lie to you, Dolly ; but I reckon I've come to my senses. Dolly. You want to marry me ? • Hook. I'll do my best to make you happy. I'm awfully rough, you know. Dolly. Well, somebody said I was as elegant as a fishwife. Hook. I'll punch his head. Well, Dolly, is it a bargain. (Dolly comes to Hook ; he seizes her hands.) (Taking her arm.) Let's have a smoke in the garden. Curtain. One copy del. to Cat. Div. DRAWING ROOM, iiv Kept in the large size, the back scene is 13 feet long and 9 feet high anu ex- ids with the Wings and Borders to 20 feet long and 11 J feet high. In the centre Is a French window, leading down to the ground, On the left wing is a fireplace with mirror above, and on the right wing is an oil painting. The whole scene is tastefully ornamented and beautifully coloured, forming a most elegant picture. The above is a representation of a bos scene consisting of 38 sheets of paper, the extra sheets being used for the doors each side. & a. d. Back Scene, Border, and 1 Set of Wings, unmounted .. .. 2 Ditto, mounted 4 4 Back Scene, Border, with 2 Sets of Wings as above to form Box Scene, unmounted 2 10 Ditto, mounted .. „ 6 6 COTTAGE. This is also kept in the large size only. In the centre is a door 1-ading outsioe. On the left centre is a rustic fireplace, and the right centre is a window. On the Wings are painted shelves, <&c, to complete the scene. The above is a represen- tation of this scene with 1 set of Wings only (not a Box Scene), but a Box Scene can be made bv purchasing the extra set of Winga, Prices and size same as drawing Room Scene above NUY LL »->* FRENCH'S ACTING EDITION VOLUME 150 £236 The Dentist 2287 Taken for Granted 8238 Just as Well 2239 Boginany 224U Pansy 2241 A Doctor's Engage- ments 2242 A Duet 22J3 My Milliner's Bill, Is. 2244 My Aunt from Cali- fornia 2245 His Life for Hers 2246 The Meeting 2247 The Umbrella Duologue 2248 The Late Lamented 2249 Woman Triumphant 2260 Angelina's Lover VOLUME 161 2251 Chrysanthemums 2252 My First Client 2253 Punctured 2254 Old Pals 2265 Honeymoon Tragedy 2256 Commission 2267 Hal, the Highwayman 2258 Dinner for Two 2259 Ninth Waltz 2260 Human Sport 2261 Collaborators 2262 Mere Man 2263 Packing Up 2264 Paying Guest 2265 'Enery Brown VOLUME 152 2266 The Jilt 2207 'Op-o'-Me-Thumb 2268 A Marriage Has Been Arranged 2269 Carrots 2270 Conversion of Nat Sturge 2271 Clerics 2272 Aubre- 2273 Workb 2274 Two or 2275 Bridge 2276 That I 2277 Well A 2278 Maker 2279 Gutter 2280 Game of Chess VOLUME 153 2281 Mr. Stein mann'a Corner 2282 Ella's Apology 2283 Colour Sergeant 2284 Helpless Couple 2285 First Aid to the Wounded 2286 Correct Thing 2287 Their New Paying Guest 2288 Domestic Entangle- ment 2289 Salt of Life 2290 Time is Money 2291 Wally and the Widow 2292 Deceitful Miss Smiths 2293 Holly Tree Inn 2294 Up-to-date 2295 Bit of Old Chelsea CONGRESS r h VOLUME 154 of the 2296 Wrong Side Road 2297 The Open Door 2298 Prima Donna (Pem- berton) 2299 Lights Out (Pemberton) 2300 Mirror of Time 2301 Three Blind Mice (Muskerry) 2302 Privy Council 2303 Snowed up with a Duchess Martha se's De- 717 2 § Aunt ucn j-riun. & isarling VOLUME 155 2311 That Horrid Majc 2312 Bard well v. Pickw, 2313 House of Nightingale 2314 Turtle Dovee [dei 2315 Superior Miss Pellen- 2316 His Good Genius 2317 Martha Plays the Fairy 2318 Dumb Cake 2319 Proposing by Proxy 2320 Phoenix 2321 Boatswain's Mate 2322 Final Rehearsal 2323 Two Aunts at a Time 2324 Nelson Touch 2325 Convict on the Hearth VOLUME 156 2326 Grey Parrot 2327 Ghost of Jerry Bundler 2328 Bishop's Candlesticks 2329 Peacemaker 2330 Changeling 2331 Wire Entanglement 2332 Pride of Regiment 2335 "1588" 2334 Man on the Kerb 2335 O'Dowd 2336 Impertinence of the Creature 2 Z 37 Dramatist at Home 2333 Martha the Soothsayei 2339 Old Martha Is. 2d40 All Through Martha Is, AN AMERICAN CITIZEN BILLY'S LITTLE LOVE AFFAIR BRACE of PARTRIDGES BRIXTON BURGLARY CAPTAIN SWIFT CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME COUNTRY MOUSE DR. WAKE'S PATIENT FACING THE MUSIC FASCINATING MR. VAN- DERVELDT IDLER. IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST IN CHANCERY JEDBURY JUNIOR BARRIER BUILDER OF BRIDGES CAVE OF ILLUSION DANCING GIRL HYPOCRITES JOSEPH ENTANGLED Is. 6d. net Edition LADY HUNTWORTH'S EXPERIMENT LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN LIBERTY HALL LUCKY MISS DEAN MARRIAGE OF KITTY MICE AND MEN MISS ELIZABETH'S PRISONER MISS HOBBS MOLLENTRAVE ON WOMEN MR. HOPKINSON NEW BOY NIOBE OH ! SUSANNAH ! ONE SUMMER'S DAY PARVENU PASSPORT PERFECT LOVER PETER'S MOTHER PILKERTON'S PEERAGI PRIVATE SECRETARY RETURN OF THE PRO DIGAL ROCKET [DOJV SNUG LITTLE KING SQUIRE SUNLIGHT & SHADOW TWO MR. WETHERBYS WALKER. LONDON WHEN WE WERE TWENTY-ONE WILDERNESS WISDOM OF FOLL1 WOODB ARROW FARM 2s. 6d. net Library Edition JOHN GLAYDE'S HONOUR MANOEUVRES OF JANE MASQUERADERS MIDDLEMAN MOLLENTRAVE ON WOMEN MRS. DANE'S DEFENCI PERFKCT LOVER SILVER KING WALLS OF JERICHO