LITMIR.BIZ

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[Intently] D'you realise that I've supported you in luxury and comfort?

      MRS BUILDER. I think I've earned it.

      BUILDER. And how do you propose to live? I shan't give you a penny. Come, Julia, don't be such an idiot! Fancy letting a kiss which no man could have helped, upset you like this!

      MRS BUILDER. The Camille, and the last straw!

      BUILDER. [Sharply] I won't have it. So now you know.

      But MRS BUILDER has very swiftly gone.

      Julia, I tell you— [The outer door is heard being closed] Damnation!

      I will not have it! They're all mad! Here—where's my hat?

      He looks distractedly round him, wrenches open the door, and a moment later the street door is heard to shut with a bang.

CURTAIN

      ACT III

      SCENE I

      Ten o'clock the following morning, in the study of the Mayor of Breconridge, a panelled room with no window visible, a door Left back and a door Right forward. The entire back wall is furnished with books from floor to ceiling; the other walls are panelled and bare. Before the fireplace, Left, are two armchairs, and other chairs are against the walls. On the Right is a writing-bureau at right angles to the footlights, with a chair behind it. At its back corner stands HARRIS, telephoning.

      HARRIS. What—[Pause] Well, it's infernally awkward, Sergeant. . . . The Mayor's in a regular stew. . . . [Listens] New constable? I should think so! Young fool! Look here, Martin, the only thing to do is to hear the charge here at once. I've sent for Mr Chantrey; he's on his way. Bring Mr Builder and the witnesses round sharp. See? And, I say, for God's sake keep it dark. Don't let the Press get on to it. Why you didn't let him go home—! Black eye? The constable? Well, serve him right. Blundering young ass! I mean, it's undermining all authority. . . . Well, you oughtn't—at least, I . . . Damn it all!—it's a nine days' wonder if it gets out—! All right! As soon as you can. [He hangs up the receiver, puts a second chair behind the bureau, and other chairs facing it.] [To himself] Here's a mess! Johnny Builder, of all men! What price Mayors!

      The telephone rings.

      Hallo? . . . Poaching charge? Well, bring him too; only, I say, keep him back till the other's over. By the way, Mr Chantrey's going shooting. He'll want to get off by eleven. What? . . . Righto !

      As he hangs up the receiver the MAYOR enters. He looks worried, and is still dressed with the indefinable wrongness of a burgher.

      MAYOR. Well, 'Arris?

      HARRIS. They'll be over in five minutes, Mr Mayor.

      MAYOR. Mr Chantrey?

      HARRIS. On his way, sir.

      MAYOR. I've had some awkward things to deal with in my time, 'Arris, but this is just about the [Sniffs] limit.

      HARRIS. Most uncomfortable, Sir; most uncomfortable!

      MAYOR. Put a book on the chair, 'Arris; I like to sit 'igh.

      HARRIS puts a volume of Eneyclopaedia on the Mayor's chair behind the bureau.

      [Deeply] Our fellow-magistrate! A family man! In my shoes next year. I suppose he won't be, now. You can't keep these things dark.

      HARRIS. I've warned Martin, sir, to use the utmost discretion. Here's Mr Chantrey.

      By the door Left, a pleasant and comely gentleman has entered, dressed with indefinable rightness in shooting clothes.

      MAYOR. Ah, Chantrey!

      CHANTREY. How de do, Mr Mayor? [Nodding to HARRIS] This is extraordinarily unpleasant.

      The MAYOR nods.

      What on earth's he been doing?

      HARRIS. Assaulting one of his own daughters with a stick; and resisting the police.

      CHANTREY. [With a low whistle] Daughter! Charity begins at home.

      HARRIS. There's a black eye.

      MAYOR. Whose?

      HARRIS. The constable's.

      CHANTREY. How did the police come into it?

      HARRIS. I don't know, sir. The worst of it is he's been at the police station since four o'clock yesterday. The Superintendent's away, and Martin never will take responsibility.

      CHANTREY. By George! he will be mad. John Builder's a choleric fellow.

      MAYOR. [Nodding] He is. 'Ot temper, and an 'igh sense of duty.

      HARRIS. There's one other charge, Mr Mayor—poaching. I told them to keep that back till after.

      CHANTREY. Oh, well, we'll make short work of that. I want to get off by eleven, Harris. I shall be late for the first drive anyway. John Builder! I say, Mayor—but for the grace of God, there go we!

      MAYOR. Harris, go out and bring them in yourself; don't let the servants—

      HARRIS goes out Left. The MAYOR takes the upper chair behind the bureau, sitting rather higher because of the book than CHANTREY, who takes the lower. Now that they are in the seats of justice, a sort of reticence falls on them, as if they were afraid of giving away their attitudes of mind to some unseen presence.

      MAYOR. [Suddenly] H'm!

      CHANTREY. Touch of frost. Birds ought to come well to the guns—no wind. I like these October days.

      MAYOR. I think I 'ear them. H'm.

      CHANTREY drops his eyeglass and puts on a pair of "grandfather" spectacles. The MAYOR clears his throat and takes up a pen. They neither of them look up as the door is opened and a little procession files in. First HARRIS; then RALPH BUILDER, ATHENE, HERRINGHAME, MAUD, MRS BUILDER, SERGEANT MARTIN, carrying a heavy Malacca cane with a silver knob; JOHN BUILDER and the CONSTABLE MOON, a young man with one black eye. No funeral was ever attended by mutes so solemn and dejected. They stand in a sort of row.

      MAYOR. [Without looking up] Sit down, ladies; sit down.

      HARRIS and HERRINGHAME succeed in placing the three women in chairs. RALPH BUILDER also sits. HERRINGHAME stands behind. JOHN BUILDER remains standing between the two POLICEMEN. His face is unshaved and menacing, but he stands erect staring straight at the MAYOR. HARRIS goes to the side of the bureau, Back, to take down the evidence.

      MAYOR. Charges!

      SERGEANT. John Builder, of The Cornerways, Breconridge, Contractor and Justice of the Peace, charged with assaulting his daughter Maud Builder by striking her with a stick in the presence of Constable Moon and two other persons; also with resisting Constable Moon in the execution of his duty, and injuring his eye. Constable Moon!

      MOON. [Stepping forward-one, two—like an automaton, and saluting] In River Road yesterday afternoon, Your Worship, about three-thirty p.m., I was attracted by a young woman callin' "Constable" outside a courtyard. On hearing the words "Follow me, quick," I followed her to a painter's studio inside the courtyard, where I found three persons in the act of disagreement. No sooner 'ad I appeared than the defendant, who was engaged in draggin' a woman towards the door, turns to the young woman who accompanied me, with violence. "You dare, father," she says; whereupon he hit her twice with the stick the same which is produced, in the presence of myself and the two other persons, which I'm given to understand is his wife and other daughter.

      MAYOR. Yes; never mind what you're given to understand.

      MOON. No, sir. The party struck turns to me and says, "Come in. I give this man in charge for assault." I moves accordingly with the words: "I saw you. Come along with me." The defendant turns to me sharp and says: "You stupid lout—I'm a magistrate." "Come off it," I says to the best of my recollection. "You struck this woman in my presence," I says, "and you come along!" We were then at close quarters. The defendant gave me a push with the words: "Get out, you idiot!" "Not at all," I replies, and took 'old of his arm. A struggle ensues, in the course of which I receives the black eye which I herewith produce. [He touches his eye with awful

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