LITMIR.BIZ

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quietly in my chair. And I slept as comfortably—as if Jenny weren't lying in there, cold and dead. And the maid pities me because she thinks I passed as sleepless a night as she did.

      [A sound of voices is heard outside, in altercation. Fanny comes in.

      Fanny.

      Please, sir, Mr. James.

      Basil.

      [Angrily.] I won't see him.

      Fanny.

      He won't go away, I told 'im you was too ill to see anybody.

      Basil.

      I won't see him. I knew he'd be round, curse him!

      John.

      After all, I suppose he has a certain right to come here—under the circumstances. Hadn't you better see what he wants?

      Basil.

      Oh, he'll make a scene. I shall knock him down. I've suffered too much through him already.

      John.

      Let me see him. You don't want him to make a fuss at the inquest.

      Basil.

      I've been thinking of that. I know the stories he and his people will make up. And the papers will get hold of it, and every one will blackguard me. They'll say it was my fault.

      John.

      D'you mind if I have a talk to him? I think I can save you from all that.

      Basil.

      [Shrugging his shoulders, impatiently.] Do whatever you like.

      John.

      [To Fanny.] Show him up, Fanny.

      Fanny.

      Yes, sir.

      [She goes out.

      Basil.

      Then I shall go.

      [John nods, and Basil goes out by the door next to that of the room in which Jenny is lying. James Bush appears.

      John.

      [Grave and cold.] Good morning, Mr. Bush.

      James.

      [Aggressively.] Where's that man?

      John.

      [Raising his eyebrows.] It's usual to take one's hat off in other people's houses.

      James.

      I'm a man of principle, I am; and I keep my 'at on to show it.

      John.

      Ah, well, we won't discuss the point.

      James.

      I want to see that man.

      John.

      May I ask to whom you're referring? There are so many men in the world. In fact, it's very over-crowded.

      James.

      Who are you, I should like to know?

      John.

      [Politely.] My name is Halliwell. I had the pleasure of meeting you at Basil's rooms in Bloomsbury.

      James.

      [Aggressively.] I know that.

      John.

      I beg your pardon. I thought you were asking for information.

      James.

      I tell you I want to see my brother-in-law.

      John.

      I'm afraid you can't.

      James.

      I tell you I will see 'im. He's murdered my sister. He's a blackguard and a murderer, and I'll tell him so to his face.

      John.

      [Sarcastic.] Take care he doesn't hear you.

      James.

      I want him to hear me. I'm not frightened of him. I should just like to see him touch me now. [He sidles viciously to John.] H'm, you tried to keep me out, did yer? Said I couldn't come to my sister's 'ouse—and kept me waitin' in the 'all like a tradesman. Oh, I'll make you all pay for this. I'll get my own back now. Measley set of West End curs, that's all you are.

      John.

      Mr. Bush, you'll be so good as to keep a civil tongue in your mouth while you're here—and you'll talk less loudly.

      James.

      [Scornfully.] Who says so?

      John.

      [Looking at him quietly.] I do.

      James.

      [Less decisively.] Don't you try and bully me.

      John.

      [Pointing to a chair.] Won't you sit down?

      James.

      No, I won't sit down. This ain't the 'ouse that a gentleman would sit down in. I'll be even with 'im yet. I'll tell the jury a pretty story. He deserves to be strung up, he does.

      John.

      I can't tell you how extremely sorry I am for what has happened.

      James.

      Oh, don't try and get round me.

      John.

      Really, Mr. Bush, you have no reason to be indignant with me.

      James.

      Well, I don't think much of you, any 'ow.

      John.

      I'm very sorry. Last time we met I thought you a very amiable person. Don't you remember, we went and had a drink together?

      James.

      I don't say you're not a gentleman.

      John.

      [Taking out his cigar-case.] Won't you have a cigar?

      James.

      [Suspiciously.] Look here, you're not trying to bluff me, are you?

      John.

      Certainly not. I wouldn't dream of such a thing.

      James.

      [Taking a cigar.] Larranaga.

      John.

      [With an acid smile.] Nine pounds a hundred.

      James.

      That's one and nine apiece, ain't it?

      John.

      How quickly you reckon!

      James.

      You must be pretty oofy to be able to afford that.

      John.

      [Drily.] It does inspire respect, doesn't it?

      James.

      I don't know what you mean by that. But I flatter myself I know a good cigar when I see it.

      [John sits down, and James Bush, without thinking, follows his example.]

      John.

      What d'you think you'll get out of making a row at the inquest? Of course, there'll be an inquest.

      James.

      Yes, I know there will. And I'm lookin' forward to it, I can tell you.

      John.

      I wouldn't have said that if I'd been you.

      James.

      [Quite unconscious of the construction that may be put

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