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THE SILVER BOX

BY

JOHN GALSWORTHY

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

NEW YORK AND LONDOxM

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1909

THE SILVER BOX

BY

JOHN GALSWORTHY

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

NEW YORK AND LONDON

Zbc Iknicfterbocftcr ^xcbb
1909

T^vo Coyies Received

1^1 AR M 1809

I 5 ^^3

AXc ;mo,

Copyright, 1909

BY

JOHN GALSWORTHY

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THE SILVER BOX

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS

PERSONS OF THE PLAY

John Barthwick, M.P., a wealthy Liberal

Mrs. Barthwick, his wife

Jack Barthwick, their son

Roper, their solicitor

Mrs. Jones, their charwoman

Marlow, their manservant

Wheeler, their maidservant

Jones, tlie stranger within their gates

Mrs. Seddon, a landlady

Snow, a detective

A Police Magistrate

An Unknown Lady, from beyond

Two Little Girls, homeless

Livens, their father

A Relieving Officer

A Magistrate's Clerk

An Usher

Policemen, Clerks, and Others

TIME: The present. The action of the first two Acts takes
place on Easter Tuesday; the action of the third on Easter
Wednesday week.

ACT I., SCENE I. Rockingham Gate. John Barthwick' s
dining-room.
SCENE II. The same.
SCENE III. The same.

ACT II., SCENE I. The Jones's lodgings, Merthyr Street.
SCENE II. John Barthwick' s dining-room.

ACT III. A London police court.

CAST OF THE ORIGINAL PRODUCTION AT
THE EMPIRE THEATRE, NEW YORK,
ON

John Barthwick, M.P.

Mrs. Barthwick

Jack Barthwick

Roper

Mrs. Jones

Marlow

Wheeler .

Jones .

Mrs. Seddon

Snow .

Julius Holden, A

Police Magistrate

An Unknown Lady

Two Little Girls

Livens

Clerk op Court
Relieving Officer
Swearing Clerk
Constable .

Policemen, Clerks,

Eugene Jepson
Hattie Russell
Harry Redding
William Sampson
Ethel Barrymore
William Evans
Anita Rothe
Bruce McRae
Fanny L. Burt
James Kearney

Forrest Robinson

Mary Nash
j Dorothy Scherer
I Helen Mooney
Soldene Powell
Louis Eagan
M. B. Pollock
John Adolfi
Harry Barker
and others

ACT I

SCENE I

The curtain rises on the Barthwick's dining-room,
large, modern, and well jtunished; the window cur-
tains drawn. Electric light is burning. On the
large round dining-table is set out a tray with
whisky, a sypJwn, and a silver cigarette-box. It is
past midnight.

A fumbling is heard outside the door. It is opened sud-
denly; Jack Barthwick seems to fall into the
room. He stands holding by the door knob, staring
before him, with a beatific smile. He is in evening
dress and opera hat, and carries in his hand a sky-
blue velvet lady's reticule. His boyish face is
freshly coloured and clean-shaven. An overcoat is
hanging on his arm.

Jack. Hello! I 've got home all ri [Defiantly.]

Who says I sh 'd never 've opened th' door without
'sistance. [He staggers in, fumbling with the reticule.
A lady's handkerchief and purse of crimson silk fall
out.] Serve her joll' well right— everything droppin'
out. Th' cat. I 've scored her off— I 've got her bag.
[He swings the reticule.] Serves her joll' well right.
[He takes a cigarette out of the silver box and puts it in his
mouth.] Never gave tha' fellow anything! [He
hunts through all his pockets and pulls a shilling out; it

5

6 The Silver Box act i

drops and rolls away. He looks for it.] Beastly shil-
ling! [He looks again.] Base ingratitude! Abso-
lutely nothing. [He laughs.] Mus' tell him I 've got
absolutely nothing.

[He lurches through the door and down a
corridor, and presently returns, followed by
Jones, who is advanced in liquor. Jones,
about thirty years of age, has hollow cheeks,
black circles round his eyes, and rusty
clothes. He looks as though he might be
unemployed, and enters in a hang-dog
manner.]
Jack. Sh! sh! sh! Don't you make a noise,
whatever you do. Shu' the door, an' have a
drink. [Very solemnly.] You helped me to open
the door — I 've got nothin, for you. This is my
house. My father's name's Barthwick; he's
Member of Parliament — Liberal Member of Par-
liament: I 've told you that before. Have a drink!
[He pours out whisky and drinks it up.] I 'm

not drunk [Subsiding on a sofa.] Tha 's

all right. Wha 's your name? My name 's Barth-
wick, so 's my father's; /'ma Liberal too — ^wha 're
you?

Jones. [In a thick, sardonic voice.] I 'm a
bloomin' Conserz;a/iw, My name 's Jones! Mj^ wife
works 'ere; she 's the char; she works 'ere.

Jack. Jones? [He laughs.] There 's 'nother Jones
at College with me. I 'm not a Socialist myself;
I 'm a Liberal — there 's ve-lill difference, because of
the principles of the Lib — Liberal Party. We 're
all equal before the law — tha 's rot, tha 's silly.
[Laughs.] Wha' was I about to say? Give me some
whisky.

sc. I The Silver Box 7

[Jones gives him the whisky he desires, to-
gether with a squirt of syphon.]
Wha' I was goin' tell you was — I 've had a row with
her. [He waves the reticule.] Have a drink, Jones — •
sh 'd never have got in without you — tha 's why I 'm
giving you a drink. Don' care who knows I 've
scored her off. Th' cat! [He throws his feet up on
the sofa.] Don' you make a noise, whatever you do.
You pour out a drink — you make yourself good long,
long drink — you take cigarette — you take anything
you like. Sh 'd never have got in without you.
[Closing his eyes.] You 're a Tory — you 're a Tory
Socialist. I 'm Liberal myself — have a drink — I 'm
an excel'nt chap.

[His head drops hack. He, smiling, falls

asleep, and Jones stands looking at him;

then, snatching up Jack's glass, he drinks

it off. He picks the reticule from off Jack's

shirt-front, holds it to the light, and smells

at it.]

Jones. Been on the tiles and brought 'ome some

of yer cat's fur. [He stuffs it into Jack's breast

pocket.]

Jack. [Murmuring.] I 've scored you off! You
cat!

[Jones looks around him furtively; he pours

out whisky and drinks it. From the silver

box he takes a cigarette, puffs at it, and

drinks more whisky. There is no sobriety

left in him.]

Jones. Fat lot o' things they've got 'ere! [He

sees the crimson purse lying on the floor.] More cat's

fur. Puss, puss! [He fingers it, drops it on the tray,

and looks at Jack.] Calf! Fat calf! [He sees his

8 The Silver Box act i

own presentment in a mirror. Lifting his hands, with
fingers spread, he stares at it; then looks again at Jack,
clenching his fist as if to batter in his sleeping, smiling
face. Suddenly he tilts the rest of the whisky into the
glass and drinks it. With cunning glee he takes the
silver box and purse and pockets them.] I '11 score you
off too, that 's wot I '11 do!

[He gives a little snarling laugh and lurches to
the door. His shoulder rubs against the
switch; the light goes out. There is a sound
as of a closing outer door.]

The curtain falls.

The curtain rises again at once.

SCENE II

In the Barthwick's dining-room. Jack is still asleep;
the morning light is coming through the curtains.
The time is half-past eight. Wheeler, brisk per-
son enters with a dust-pan, and Mrs. Jones more
slowly with a scuttle.

Wheeler. [Drawing the curtains.] That precious
husband of yours was round for you after you 'd gone
yesterday, Mrs. Jones. Wanted your money for drink,
I suppose. He hangs about the corner here half
the time. I saw him outside the "Goat and Bells"
when I went to the post last night. If I were you I
would n't live with him. I would n't live with a man
that raised his hand to me. I would n't put up with
it. Why don't you take your children and leave
him ? If you put up with 'im it '11 only make him
worse. I never can see why, because a man's mar-
ried you, he should knock you about.

sc. II The Silver Box 9

Mrs. Jones. [Slim, dark-eyed, and dark-haired;
oval-faced, and with a smooth, soft, even voice; her man-
ner patient, her way of talking quite impersonal; she
wears a blue linen dress, and boots with holes.'] It was
nearly two last night before he come home, and he
was n't himself. He made me get up, and he knocked
me about ; he did n't seem to know what he was saying
or doing. Of course I would leave him, but I 'm
really afraid of what he 'd do to me. He 's such a
violent man when he 's not himself.

Wheeler. Why don't you get him locked up?
You '11 never have any peace until you get him locked
up. If I were you I 'd go to the police court to-
morrow. That 's what I would do.

Mrs. Jones. Of course I ought to go, because he
does treat me so badly when he 's not himself. But
you see, Bettina, he has a very hard time — he 's been
out of work two months, and it preys upon his mind.
When he 's in work he behaves himself much better.
It 's when he 's out of work that he 's so violent.

Wheeler, Well, if you won't take any steps
you '11 never get rid of him.

Mrs. Jones. Of course it 's very wearing to me; I
don't get my sleep at nights. And it 's not as if I
were getting help from him, because I have to do
for the children and all of us. And he throws such
dreadful thmgs up at me, talks of my having men to
follow me about. Such a thing never happens; no
man ever speaks to me. And of course it 's just the
other way. It 's what he does that 's wrong and
makes me so unhappy. And then he 's always
threatenin' to cut my throat if I leave him. It 's all
the drink, and things preying on his mind; he 's not
a bad man really. Sometimes he '11 speak quite kind

lo The Silver Box act i

to me, but I *ve stood so much from him, I don't feel
it in me to speak kind back, but just keep myself to
myself. And he 's all right with the children too,
except when he 's not himself.

Wheeler. You mean when he 's drunk, the
beauty.

Mrs. Jones. Yes. [Without change of voice.]
There 's the young gentleman asleep on the sofa.
[They both look silently at Jack.

Mrs. Jones. [At last, in her soft voice.] He
does n't look quite himself.

Wheeler. He 's a young limb, that 's what he is.
It *s my belief he was tipsy last night, like your
husband. It 's another kind of bein' out of work
that sets him to drink. I '11 go and tell Marlow.
This is his job.

[She goes.
[Mrs. Jones, upon her knees, begins a gentle
sweeping.

Jack. [Waking.] Who 's there? What is it?

Mrs. Jones. It 's me, sir, Mrs. Jones.

Jack. [Sitthtg up and looking round.] Where is
it — what — what time is it?

Mrs. Jones. It 's getting on for nine o'clock, sir.

Jack. For nine! Why — what! [Rising, and
loosening his tongue; putting hand to his head, and
staring hard at Mrs. Jones.] Look here, you, Mrs.
— Mrs. Jones — don't you say you caught me asleep
here.

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, of course I won't sir.

Jack. It 's quite an accident; I don't know how it
happened. I must have forgotten to go to bed. It 's
-a queer thing. I 've got a most beastly headache.
Mind you don't say anything. Mrs. Jones.

St- " The Silver Box

II

[Goes out and passes Marlow in the doorway.
Marlow is young and quiet; he is clean-
shaven, and his hair is brushed high from
his forehead in a coxcomb. Incidentally
a butler, he is first a man. He looks at
Mrs. Jones, and smiles a private smile.]

Marlow. Not the first time, and won't be the
last. Looked a bit dicky, eh, Mrs. Jones?

Mrs. Jones. He did n't look quite himself. Of
course I did n't take notice.

Marlow. You 're used to them. How 's your old
man ? ^

Mrs. Jones. [Softly as throughout.] Well, he was
very bad last night; he did n't seem to know what he
was about. He was very late, and he was most
abusive. But now, of course, he 's asleep.

Marlow. That 's his way of finding a job, eh?

Mrs. Jones. As a rule, Mr. Marlow, he goes out
early every morning looking for work, and sometimes
he comes in fit to drop — and of course I can't say he
does n't try to get it, because he does. Trade 's very
bad. [She stands quite still, her pan and brush before
her, at the beginning and the end of long vistas of expe-
rience, traversing them with her impersonal eye.] But
he 's not a good husband to me — last night he hit
me, and he was so dreadfully abusive.

Marlow. Bank'oliday, eh! He 's too fond of the
*'Goat and Bells," that's what's the matter with
him. I see him at the corner late every night. He
hangs about.

Mrs. Jones. He gets to feeling very low walking
about all day after work, and being refused so often,
and then when he gets a drop in him it goes to his
head. But he should n't treat his wife as he treats

12 The Silver Box act i

me. Sometimes 1 've had to go and walk about at
night, when he would n't let me stay in the room ;
but he 's sorry for it afterwards. And he hangs about
after me, he waits for me in the street; and I don't
think he ought to, because I 've always been a
good wife to him. And I tell him Mrs. Barthwick
would n't like him coming about the place. But that
only makes him angry, and he says dreadful things
about the gentry. Of course it was through me that
he first lost his place, through his not treating me
right; and that 's made him bitter against the gentry.
He had a very good place as groom in the country;
but it made such a stir, because of course he did n't
treat me right.

Marlow. Got the sack?

Mrs. Jones. Yes; his employer said he couldn't
keep him, because there was a great deal of talk;
and he said it was such a bad example. But it 's
very important for me to keep my work here ; I have
the three children, and I don't want him to come
about after me in the streets, and make a disturbance
as he sometimes does.

Marlow. [Holding up the empty decanter.] Not a
drain! Next time he hits you get a witness and go
down to the court

Mrs. Jones. Yes, I think I 've made up my mind.
I think I ought to.

Marlow. That 's right. Where 's the ciga ?

\He searches for the silver box; he looks at Mrs.
Jones, who is sweeping on her hands and
knees; he checks himself and stands reflecting.
From the tray he picks two half -smoked
cigarettes, and reads the name on them.]
Nestor — where the deuce ?

sc. II The Silver Box 13

[With a meditative air he looks again at
Mrs. Jones, and, taking tip Jack's
overcoat, he searches in the pockets.
Wheeler, with a tray of breakfast things,
conies in.
Marlow. [Aside to Wheeler.] Have you seen
the cigarette-box?
Wheeler. No.

Marlow. Well, it 's gone. I put it on the tray
last night. And he 's been smoking. [Showing her
the ends of cigarettes.] It 's not in these pockets. He
can't have taken it upstairs this morning! Have a
good look in his room when he comes down. Who 's
been in here?

Wheeler. Only me and Mrs. Jones.
Mrs. Jones. I've finished here; shall I do the
drawing-room now?

Wheeler. [Looking at her doubtfully.] Have

you seen Better do the boudwower first.

[Mrs. Jones goes out with pan and brush.
Marlow and Wheeler look each other in
the face.]
Marlow. It '11 turn up.

Wheeler. [Hesitating.] You don't think she

[Nodding at the door.]

Marlow. [Stoutly.] I don't— I never believes
anything of anybody.

Wheeler. But the master '11 have to be told.
Marlow. You wait a bit, and see if it don't turn
up. Suspicion 's no business of ours. I set my mind
against it.

The curtain falls.

The curtain rises again at once.

14 The Silver Box act i

SCENE III

Barthwick and Mrs. Barthwick are seated at the
breakfast table. He is a man between fifty and
sixty; quietly important, with a bald forehead, and
pince-nez, and the "Times'' in his hand. She is a
lady of nearly fifty, well dressed, with greyish hair,
good features, and a decided manner. They face
each other.

Barthwick. {From behind his paper.] The La-
bour man has got in at the by-election for Barnside,
my dear.

Mrs. Barthwick. Another Labour ? I can't
think what on earth the country is about.

Barthwick. I predicted it. It 's not a matter of
vast importance.

Mrs. Barthwick. Not? How can you take it so
calmly, John? To me it 's simply outrageous. And
there you sit, you Liberals, and pretend to encourage
these people!

Barthwick. [Frowning.] The representation of
all parties is necessary for any proper reform, for
any proper social policy.

Mrs. Barthwick. I 've no patience with your talk
of reform — all that nonsense about social policy. We
know perfectly well what it is they want; they want
things for themselves. Those Socialists and Labour
men are an absolutely selfish set of people. They
have no sense of patriotism, like the upper classes;
they simply want what we 've got.

Barthwick. Want what we've got! [He stares
into space.] My dear, what are you talking about?
[With a contortion.] I 'm no alarmist.

sc. Ill The Silver Box 15

Mrs. Barthwick. Cream? Quite uneducated men l
Wait until they begin to tax our investments. I *m
convinced that when they once get a chance they
will tax everything — they 've no feeling for the
country. You Liberals and Conservatives, you 're
all alike; you don't see an inch before your noses^
You 've no imagination, not a scrap of imaginatioa
between you. You ought to join hands and nip it in
the bud.

Barthwick. You 're talking nonsense! How is
it possible for Liberals and Conservatives to join
hands, as you call it? That shows how absurd it is for
women Why, the very essence of a Liberal is to-
trust in the people !

Mrs. Barthwick. Now, John, eat your breakfast.
As if there were any real difference between you and
the Conservatives. All the upper classes have the
same interests to protect, and the same principles.-
[Calmly.] Oh! you 're sitting upon a volcano, John.

Barthwick. ■ What!

Mrs. Barthwick. I read a letter in the paper yes^
terday. I forget the man's name, but it made the
whole thing perfectly clear. You don't look things
in the face.

Barthwick. Indeed! [Heavily.] I am a Lib-
eral ! Drop the subject, please !

Mrs. Barthwick. Toast? I quite agree with
what this man says : Education is simply ruining the
lower classes. It unsettles them, and that 's the
worst thing for us all. I see an enormous difference
in the manner of servants.

Barthwick. [With suspicious emphasis.] I wel-
come any change that will lead to something better.
[He opens a letter.] H 'm! This is that affair of

1 6 The Silver Box act i

Master Jack's again. "High Street, Oxford. Sir,
We have received Mr. John Barthwick, Senior's, draft
for forty pounds ! " Oh! the letter 's to him! "We
now enclose the cheque you cashed with us, which, as
we stated in our previous letter, was not met on pre-
sentation at your bank. We are, Sir, yours obedi-
ently, Moss and Sons, Tailors." H 'm! [Staring at
the cheque.] A pretty business altogether ! The boy
might have been prosecuted.

Mrs. Barthwick. Come, John, you know Jack
did n't mean anything; he only thought he was over-
drawing. I still think his bank ought to have cashed
that cheque. They must know your position.

Barthwick. [Replacing in the envelope the letter
and the cheque.] Much good that would have done
him in a court of law. [He stops as Jack comes in,
fastening his waistcoat and staunching a razor cut upon
his chin.]

Jack. [Sitting down between them, and speaking
with an artificial joviality.] Sorry I 'm late. [He
looks lugubriously at the dishes.] Tea, please, mother.
Any letters for me? [Barthwick hands the letter to
him.] But look here, I say, this has been opened! I
do wish you would n't

Barthwick. [Touching the envelope.] I suppose
I 'm entitled to this name.

Jack. [Sulkily^ Well, I can't help having your
name, father! [He reads the letter, and mutters.]
Brutes!

Barthwick. [Eyeing him.] You don't deserve to
be so well out of that.

Jack. Haven't you ragged me enough, dad?

Mrs. Barthwick. Yes, John, let Jack have his
breakfast.

sc. m The Silver Box 17

Barthwick. If you hadn't had me to come to,
where would you have been? It 's the merest acci-
dent— suppose you had been the son of a poor man or
a clerk. Obtaining money with a cheque you knew
your bank could not meet. It might have ruined you
for life. I can't see what 's to become of you if these
are your principles. I never did anything of the
sort myself.

Jack. I expect you always had lots of money. If
you 've got plenty of money, of course

Barthwick. On the contrary, I had not your
advantages. My father kept me very short of
money.

Jack. How much had you, dad?

Barthwick. It 's not material. The question is,
do you feel the gravity of what you did?

Jack. I don't know about the gravity. Of course,
I 'm very sorry if you think it was wrong. Have n't
I said so! I should never have done it at all if I
had n't been so jolly hard up.

Barthwick. How much of that forty pounds
have you got left, Jack?

Jack. [Hesitating.] I don't know — not much.

Barthwick. How much?

Jack. [Desperately.] I have n't got any.

Barthwick. What?

Jack. I know I 've got the most beastly headache.
[He leans his head on his hand.

Mrs. Barthwick. Headache? My dear boy !
Can't you eat any breakfast?

Jack. [Drawing in his breath.] Too jolly bad !

Mrs. Barthwick. I 'm so sorry. Come with me.
dear; I '11 give you something that will take it away
at once.

1 8 The Silver Box act i

[They leave the room; and B art h wick, tearing
up the letter, goes to the fireplace and puts
the pieces in the fire. While he is doing
this Marlow comes in, and looking round
him, is about quietly to withdraw.
Barthwick. What 's that? What d 'you want?
Marlow. I was looking for Mr. John, sir.
Barthwick. What d' you want Mr. John for?
Marlow. \With hesitation.] I thought I should
find him here, sir.

Barthwick. [Suspiciously.] Yes, but what do
you want him for?

Marlow. [Offhandedly.] There 's a lady called —
asked to speak to him for a minute, sir.

Barthwick. A lady, at this time in the morning.
What sort of a lady?

Marlow. [Without expression in his voice.] I can't
tell, sir; no particular sort. She might be after
charity. She might be a Sister of Mercy, I should
think, sir.

Barthwick. Is she dressed like one?
Marlow. No, sir, she 's in plain clothes, sir.
Barthwick. Did n't she say what she wanted?
Marlow. No sir.

Barthwick. Where did you leave her?
Marlow. In the hall, sir.

Barthwick. In the hall? How do you know
she 's not a thief — not got designs on the house?
Marlow. No, sir, I don't fancy so, sir.
Barthwick. Well, show her in here; I '11 see her
myself.

[Marlow goes out with a private gesture of dis-
may. He soon returns, ushering in a young
pale lady with dark eyes and pretty figure, in

sc. Ill The Silver Box 19

a modish, black, but rather shabby dress, a
black and white trimmed hat with a bunch of
Parma violets wrongly placed, and fuzzy-
spotted veil. At the sight of Mr. Barth-
wiCK she exhibits every sign of nervousness.
Marlow goes out.]

Unknown Lady. Oh! but — I beg pardon —
there 's some mistake — I [She turns to fly.]

Barthwick. Whom did you want to see, madam?

Unknown. [Stopping and looking back.] It was
Mr. John Barthwick I wanted to see.

Barthwick. I am John Barthwick, madam.
What can I have the pleasure of doing for you?

Unknown. Oh! I — I don't [She drops her

eyes. Barthwick scrutinises her, and purses his
lips.]

Barthwick. It was my son, perhaps, you wished
to see?

Unknown. [Quickly.] Yes, of course, it 's your son.

Barthwick. May I ask whom I have the pleasure
of speaking to?

Unknown. [Appeal and hardiness upon her face.]
My name is — oh! it does n't matter — 'I don't want to
make any fuss. I just want to see your son for a
minute. [Boldly.] In fact, I must see him.

Barthwick. [Controlling his uneasiness.] My son
is not very well. If necessary, no doubt I could attend
to the matter; be so kind as to let me know ■

Unknown. Oh! but I must see him — I 've come
on purpose — [She bursts out nervously.] I don't want
to make any fuss, but the fact is, last — last night your
son took away — he took away my [She stops.]

Barthwick. [Severely.] Yes, madam, what?

Unknown. He took away my — my reticule.

20 The Silver Box act i

Barthwick. Your reti ?

Unknown. I don't care about the reticule; it's
not that I want — I 'm sure I don't want to make any
fuss — [her face is quivering] — but — but — all my money
was in it !

Barthwick. In what — ^in what?

Unknown. In my purse, in the reticule. It was a
crimson silk purse. Really, I would n't have come
— I don't want to make any fuss. But I must get
my money back — must n't I?

Barthwick. Do you tell me that my son ?

Unknown. Oh! well, you see, he wasn't quite — ■
I mean he was [She smiles niesmerically.

Barthwick. I beg your pardon.

Unknown. [Stamping her foot.] Oh ! don't you
see — tipsy ! We had a quarrel.

Barthwick. [Scandalised.] How? Where?

Unknown. [Defiantly.] At my place. We 'd
had supper at the and your son

Barthwick. [Pressing the bell.] May I ask how
you knew this house? Did he give you his name
and address?

Unknown. [Glancing sidelong.] I got it out of his-
overcoat.

Barthwick. [Sardonically.] Oh! you got it out
of his overcoat. And may I ask if my son will know
you by daylight?

Unknown. Know me? I should jolly — I mean,
of course he will ! [Marlow comes in.

Barthwick. Ask Mr. John to come down.

[Marlow goes out, and Barthwick walks un-
easily about.]
And how long have you enjoyed his acquaintance-
ship?

sc. Ill The Silver Box 21

Unknown. Only since — only since Good Friday.
Barthwick. I am at a loss — I repeat I am at a

loss

[He glances at this unknown lady, wJw stands
with eyes cast down, twisting her hands.
And suddenly Jack appears. He stops
on seeing who is here, and the unknown
lady hysterically giggles. There is a
silence.]
Barthwick. [Portentously.] This 3^oung — er —
lady sa3^s that last night — I think you said last night

madam — you took away

Unknown. [Impulsively.] My reticule, and all my
money was in a crimson silk purse.

Jack. Reticule. [Looking round for any chance to
get away.] I don't know anything about it.

Barthwick. [Sharply.] Come, do you deny see-
ing this young lady last night?

Jack. Den}^? No, of course. [Whispering.] Why
did you give me away like this? What on earth did
you come here for?

Unknown. [Tearfully.] I 'm sure I did n't want
to— it 's not likely, is it? You snatched it out of my
hand — you know you did — and the purse had all my
money in it. I did n't follow you last night because
I did n't want to make a fuss and it was so late, and
you were so

Barthwick. Come, sir, don't turn your back on
me — explain !

Jack. [Desperately.] I don't remember anything
about it. [In a low voice to his friend.] Why on
earth could n't you have written?

Unknown. [Sidlc7ily.] I want it now; I must
have it — I 've got to pay my rent to-da}^ [She looks

22 The Silver Box act i

at Barthwick.] They 're only too glad to jump on
people who are not — not well off.

Jack. I don't remember anything about it, really.
I don't remember anything about last night at all.
[He puts his hand up to his head.] It 's all — cloudy,
and I 've got such a beastly headache.

Unknown. But you took it; you know you did.
You said you 'd score me off.

Jack. Well, then, it must be here. I remember
now — I remember something. Why did I take the
beastly thing?

Barthwick. Yes, why did you take the beastly —

\He turns abruptly to the window.

Unknown. {With her mesmeric smile.] You

were n't quite were you?

Jack. [Smiling pallidly.'] I 'm awfully sorry. If

there 's anything I can do

Barthwick. Do? You can restore this property,
I suppose.

Jack. I '11 go and have a look, but I really don't
think I 've got it.

[He goes out hurriedly. And Barthwick,

placing a chair, motions to the visitor to

sit; then, with pursed lips, he stands and

eyes her fixedly. She sits, and steals a

look at him; then turns away, and, drawing

up her veil, steathily wipes her eyes. And

Jack comes back.]

Jack. [Ruefully holding out the empty reticule.] Is

that the thing? I 've looked all over — I can't find

the purse anywhere. Are you sure it was there?

Unknown. [Tearfully.] Sure? Of course I 'm
sure. A crimson silk purse. It was all the money
I had.

sc. ni The Silver Box 23

Jack. I really am awfully sorry — my head 's so
jolly bad. I 've asked the butler, but he has n't seen
it.

Unknown. I must have my money

Jack. Oh! Of course— that '11 be all right; I'll
see that that 's all right. How much?

Unknown. [Sullenly.] Seven pounds — twelve —
it 's all I 've got in the world.

Jack. That 'U be all right; I '11— send you a —
cheque.

Unknown. [Eagerly.] No ; now, please. Give me
what was in my purse; I 've got to pay my rent this
morning. They won't give me another day; I 'm a
fortnight behind already.

Jack. [Blankly.] I 'm awfully sorry; I really
have n't a penny in my pocket.

[He glances steathily at Barthwick.

Unknown. [Excitedly.] Come I say you must — ■
it 's my money, and you took it. I 'm not going
away without it. They '11 turn me out of my
place.

Jack. [Clasping his head.] But I can't give you
what I have n't got. Don't I tell you I have n't a
beastly cent

Unknown. [Tearing at her handkerchief.] Oh! do
give it me! [She puts her hands together in appeal;
then, with sudden fierceness.] If you don't I '11 sum-
mons you. It 's stealing, that 's what it is!

Barthwick. [Uneasily.] One moment, please.
As a matter of — er — principle, I shall settle this claim.
[He produces money.] Here is eight pounds; the
extra will cover the value of the purse and your cab
fares. I need make no comment — ^no thanks are
necessary.

24 The Silver Boit act i

{Touching the hell, he holds the door ajar in
silence. The unknown lady stores the
money in her reticule, she looks from Jack
to Barthwick, and her face is quivering
faintly with a smile. She hides it with her
hand, and steals away. Behind her Barth-
wick shuts the door.
Barthwick. \With solemnity.'] H'm! This is
nice thing to happen !

Jack. {Impersonally.'] What awful luck!
Barthwick. So this is the way that forty pounds
has gone! One thing after another! Once more I
should like to know where you 'd have been if it
had n't been for me ! You don't seem to have any
principles. You — you 're one of those who are a
nuisance to society; you — you 're dangerous! What
your mother would say I don't know. Your conduct,
as far as I can see, is absolutely unjustifiable. It 's —
it 's criminal. Why, a poor man who behaved as
you 've done . . . d' you think he 'd have any mercy
shown him? What you want is a good lesson. You
and your sort are — {he speaks with feeling] — a nuisance
to the community. Don't ask me to help you next
time. You 're not fit to be helped.

Jack. {Turning upon his sire, with unexpected
fierceness.] All right, I won't then, and see how you
like it. You would n't have helped me this time, I
know, if you had n't been scared the thing would get
into the papers. Where are the cigarettes?

Barthwick. {Regarding him uneasily.] Well — •
I '11 say no more about it. {He rings the bell] I '11
pass it over for this once, but — [Marlow comes in.]
You can clear away.

{He hides his face behind the *' Times,**

sc. Ill The Silver Box 25

Jack. [Brightening.] I say, Marlow, where are the
cigarettes ?

Marlow. I put the box out with the whisky last
night, sir, but this morning I can't find it anywhere..

Jack. Did you look in my room?

Marlow. Yes, sir; I 've looked all over the house.
I found two Nestor ends in the tray this morning,
so you must have been smokin' last night, sir.
[Hesitating.] I 'm really afraid some one 's purloined
the box.

Jack. [Uneasily.] Stolen it!

Barthwick. What's that? The cigarette-box!
Is anything else missing?

Marlow. No, sir; I 've been through the plate.

Barthwick. Was the house all right this morning?
None of the windows open?

Marlow. No, sir. [Quietly to Jack.] You left
your latch-key in the door last night , sir.

[He hands it back, unseen by Barthwick.

Jack. Tst!

Barthwick. Who 's been in the room this morn-
ing?

Marlow. Me and Wheeler, and Mrs. Jones is all,
sir, as far as I know.

Barthwick. Have you asked Mrs. Barthwick?
[To Jack.] Go and ask your mother if she 's had it;
ask her to look and see if she 's missed an3^thing
else. [Jack goes upon this mission.

Nothing is more disquieting than losing things like this.

Marlow. No, sir.

Barthwick. Have you any suspicions?

Marlow, No, sir.

Barthwick. This Mrs. Jones — how long has she
been working here?

26 The Silver Box act i

Marlow. Only this last month, sir.

Barthwick. What sort of person?

Marlow. I don't know much about her, sir;
seems a very quiet, respectable woman.

Barthwick. Who did the room this morning?

Marlow. Wheeler and Mrs. Jones, sir.

Barthwick. [With his forefinger upraised.] Now,
was this Mrs. Jones in the room alone at any time?

Marlow. [Expressionless.] Yes, sir.

Barthwick. How do you know that?

Marlow. [Reluctantly.] I found her here, sir.

Barthwick. And has Wheeler been in the room
alone?

Marlow. No, sir, she 's not, sir. I should say, sir,
that Mrs. Jones seems a very honest

Barthwick. [Holding up his hand.] 1 want to
know this: Has this Mrs. Jones been here the whole
morning?

Marlow. Yes, sir — ^no, sir — she stepped over to
the greengrocer's for cook.

Barthwick. H'm! Is she in the house now?

Marlow. Yes, sir.

Barthwick. Very good. I shall make a point of
clearing this up. On principle I shall make a point of
fixing the responsibility; it goes to the foundations
of security. In all your interests

Marlow. Yes, sir.

Barthwick. W^hat sort of circumstances is this
Mrs. Jones in? Is her husband in work?

Marlow. I believe not, sir.

Barthwick. Very well. Say nothing about it to
any one. Tell Wheeler not to speak of it, and ask
Mrs. Jones to step up here,

Marlow. Verv good, sir.

sc. Ill The Silver Box 27

[Marlow goes out, his face concerned; and
Barthwick stays, his face judicial and
a little pleased, as befits a man conducting
an inquiry. Mrs. Barthwick and her son
come in.

Barthwick. Well, my dear, you 've not seen it, I
suppose?

Mrs. Barthwick. No. But what an extraordi-
nary thing, John! Marlow, of course, is out of the

question. I 'm certain none of the maids as for

cook!

Barthwick. Oh, cook!

Mrs. Barthwick. Of course! It 's perfectly de-
testable to me to suspect anybody.

Barthwick. It is not a question of one 's feelings.
It 's a question of justice. On principle — —

Mrs. Barthwick. I should n't be a bit surprised if
the charwoman knew something about it. It was
Laura who recommended her.

Barthwick. [Judicially^ I am going to have
Mrs. Jones up. Leave it to me; and — er — remember
that nobody is guilty until they 're proved so. I shall
be careful. I have no intention of frightening her; I
shall give her every chance. I hear she 's in poor cir-
cumstances. If we are not able to do much for them
we are bound to have the greatest sympathy with the
poor. [Mrs. Jones comes in.

[Pleasantly.'] Oh! good morning. Mrs. Jones.

Mrs. Jones. [Soft, and even, tmejnphatic.] Good
morning, sir! Good morning, ma'am!

Barthwick. About your husband — he 's not in
work, I hear?

Mrs. Jones. No, sir; of course he 's not in Work
just now.

28

The Silver Box

Barthwick.
Mrs. Jcnes.
just now, sir.
Barthwick.
Mrs. Jones.

Then I suppose he 's earning nothing.
No, sir, he 's not earning anything

And how many children have you?
Three children ; but of course they
don't eat very much sir. [.4 little silence.

Barthwick. And how old is the eldest?
Nine years old, sir.
Do they go to school?
Yes, sir, they all three go to school

Mrs. Jones.

Barthwick.

Mrs. Jones.
every day.

Barthwick. [Severely.] And what about their
food when you 're out at work ?

Mrs. Jones. Well, sir, I have to give them their
dinner to take with them. Of course I 'm not
always able to give them anything; sometimes I
have to send them without; but my husband is
very good about the children when he 's in work.
But when he 's not in work of course he 's a very
difficult man.

Barthwick. He drinks, I suppose?

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir. Of course I can't say he
does n't drink, because he does.

Barthwick. And I suppose he takes all your
money?

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, he 's very good about my
money, except when he 's not himself, and then, of
course, he treats me very badly.

Barthwick. Now what is he — your husband?

Mrs. Jones. By profession, sir, of course he 's a
groom.

Barthwick. A groom! How came he to lose his
place ?

Mrs. Jones. He lost his place a long time ago, sir,

sc. Ill The Silver Box

9

and he 's never had a very long job since ; and now, of
course, the motor-cars are against him.

Barthwick. When were you married to him,
Mrs. Jones?

Mrs. Jones. Eight years ago, sir — that was in —

Mrs. Barthwick. [Sharply.] Eight? You said
the eldest child was nine.

Mrs. Jones. Yes, ma'am; of course that was why
he lost his place. He did n't treat me rightly, and of
course his employer said he could n't keep him be-
cause of the example.

Barthwick. You mean he — ahem

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir; and of course after he lost
his place he married me.

Mrs. Barthwick. You actually mean to say you
— you were

Barthwick. My dear

Mrs. Barthwick. [Indignantly.] How disgrace-
ful!

Barthwick. [Hurriedly.] And where are you
living now, Mrs. Jones?

Mrs. Jones. We 've not got a home, sir. Of
course we 've been obliged to put away most of our
things.

Barthwick. Put your things away! You mean
to — to — er — to pawn them?

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, to put them away. We 're
living in Merthyr Street — that is close by here, sir —
at No. 34. We just have the one room.

Barthwick. And what do you pay a week?

Mrs. Jones. We pay six shillings a week, sir, for
a furnished room.

Barthwick. And I suppose you 're behind in the
rent?

3P The Silver Box act i

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, we 're a little behind in the
rent.

Barthwick. But you 're in good work, are n't you?

Mrs. Jones. Well, sir, I have a day in Stamford
Place Thursdays. And Mondays and Wednesdays
and Fridays I come here. But to-day, of course, is a
half-day, because of yesterday's Bank Holiday.

Barthwick. I see; four days a week, and you get
half a crown a day, is that it?

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, and my dinner; but some-
times it 's only half a day, and that 's eighteenpence.

Barthwick. And when your husband earns any-
thing he spends it in drink, I suppose?

Mrs. Jones. Sometimes he does, sir, and some-
times he gives it to me for the children. Of course he
would work if he could get it, sir, but it seems there are
a great many people out of work.

Barthwick. Ah! Yes. We — er — won't go into
that. [Sympathetically.] And how about your work
here? Do you find it hard?

Mrs. Jones. Oh! no, sir, not very hard, sir; ex-
cept of course, when I don't get my sleep at night.

Barthwick. Ah! And you help do all the
rooms? And sometimes, I suppose, you go out for
cook?

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir.

Barthwick. And you 've been out this morning?

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, of course I had to go to the
greengrocer's.

Barthwick. Exactly. So your husband earns
nothing? And he 's a bad character.

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, I don't say that, sir. I think
there 's a great deal of good in him; though he does
treat me very bad sometimes. And of course I don't

sc. HI The Silver Box 31

like to leave him, but I think I ought to, because
really I hardly know how to stay with him. He
often raises his hand to me. Not long ago he
gave me a blow here [touches her breast] and I can
feel it now. So I think I ought to leave him, don't
you, sir?

Barthwick. Ah! I can't help you there. It's
a very serious thing to leave your husband. Very
serious thing.

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, of course I 'm afraid of what
he might do to me if I were to leave him; he can be
so very violent.

Barthwick. H'm! Well, that I can't pretend to
say anything about. It 's the bad principle I 'm
speaking of

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir; I know nobody can help me.
I know I must decide for myself, and of course I know
that he has a very hard life. And he 's fond of the
children, and its very hard for him to see them going
without food.

Barthwick. [Hastily.] Well — er — thank you, I
just wanted to hear about you. I don't think I need
detain you any longer, Mrs. — Jones.

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, thank you, sir.

Barthwick. Good morn* ^g, then.

Mrs. Jones. Good morning, sir; good morning,
ma'am.

Barthwick. [Exchanging glances with his wife.]
By the way, Mrs. Jones — I think it is only fair to tell
you, a silver cigarette-box — er — is missing.

Mrs. Jones. [Looking from one face to the other.]
I am very sorry, sir.

Barthwick. Yes; you have not seen it, I suppose?

Mrs. Jones. [Realising that suspicion is upon her;

32 The Silver Box act i

with an uneasy movement.] Where was it, sir; if you
please, sir?

Barthwick. [Evasively.] Where did Marlow say?
Er — in this room, yes, in this room.

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, I have n't seen it — of course
if I 'd seen it I should have noticed it.

Barthwick. [Giving her a rapid glance.] You — •
you are sure of that?

Mrs. Jones. [Impassively.] Yes, sir. [With a
slow nodding of her head.] I have not seen it, and of
-course I do7t't know where it is.

[She turns and goes quietly out.

Barthwick. H'm!

[The three Barthwicks avoid each other's glances.]

The curtain falls.

ACT II

SCENE I

The Jones's lodgings, Merthyr Street, at half-past two
o'clock.

The bare room, with tattered oilcloth and damp, dis-
tempered walls, has an air of tidy wretchedness.
On the bed lies Jones, half -dressed; his coat is
thrown across his feet, and muddy boots are lying
on the floor close by. He is asleep. The door is
opened and Mrs. Jones comes in, dressed in a
pinched black jacket and old block sailor hat; she
carries a parcel wrapped up in the ''Times.'' She
puts her parcel down, unwraps an apron, half a loaf,
two onions, three potatoes, and a tiny piece of bacon.
Taking a teapot from the cupboard, she rinses it,
shakes into it some powdered tea out of a screw of
paper, puts it on the hearth, and sitting in a wooden
chair quietly begins to cry.

Jones. [Stirring and yawning.] That you? What's
the time?

Mrs. Jones. [Drying her eyes, and in her usual
voice.] Half-past two.

Jones. What you back so soon for?

Mrs. Jones. I only had the half day to-day,
Jem.

Jones. [On his back, and in a drowsy voice.] Got
anything for dinner?

3 33

34 The Silver Box act h

Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Barthwick's cook gave me a
little bit of bacon. I 'm going to make a stew. [She
prepares for cooking.] There 's fourteen shillings
owing for rent, James, and of course I 've only got two
and fourpence. They '11 be coming for it to-day.

Jones. [Turning towards her on his elbow.] Let
'em come and find my surprise packet. I 've had
enough o' this tryin' for work. Why should I go
round and round after a job like a bloomin' squirrel in
a cage. "Give us a job, sir" — "Take a man on" —
"Got a wife and three children." Sick of it I am!
I 'd sooner lie here and rot. "Jones, you come and
join the demonstration ; come and 'old a flag, and listen
to the ruddy orators, and go 'ome as empty as you
came." There 's some that seems to like that — the
sheep! When I go seekin' for a job now, and see
the brutes lookin' me up an' down, it 's like a thou-
sand serpents in me. I 'm not arskin' for any treat.
A man wants to sweat hisself silly and not allowed — •
that 's a rum start, ain't it? A man wants to sweat
his soul out to keep the breath in him and ain't
allowed — that 's justice — that 's freedom and all the
rest of it ! [He turns his face towards the wall] You 're
so milky mild; you don't know what goes on inside
o' me. I 'm done with the silly game. If they want
me, let 'em come for me!

[Mrs. Jones stops cooking and stands un-
moving at the table.]
I 've tried and done with it, I tell you. I 've never
been afraid of what 's before me. You mark my
words — if you think they 've broke my spirit, you 're
mistook. I '11 lie and rot sooner than arsk 'em again.
What makes you stand like that — you long-suff erin' ,
Gawd-forsaken image — that 's why I can't keep my

sc- 1 The Silver Box 35

hands off you. So now you know. Work ! You can
work, but you have n't the spirit of a louse !

Mrs. Jones. [Quietly.] You talk more wild some-
times when you 're yourself, James, than when you 're
not. If you don't get work, how are we to go on?
They won't let us stay here; they 're looking to their
money to-day, I know.

Jones. I see this Barthwick o' yours every day
goin' down to Pawlyment snug and comfortable to
talk his silly soul out; an' I see that young calf, his
son, swellin' it about, and goin' on the razzle-dazzle.
Wot 'ave they done that makes 'em any better than
wot I am? They never did a day's work in their
lives. I see 'em day after day

Mrs. Jones. And I wish you would n't come after
me like that, and hang about the house. You don't
seem able to keep away at all, and whatever you
do it for I can't think, because of course they notice
it.

Jones. I suppose I may go where I like. Where
may I go? The other day I went to a place in the
Edgware Road. "Gov'nor," I sa3^s to the boss,
"take me on," I says. *'I 'ave n't done a stroke o'
work not these two months; it takes the heart out
of a man," I says; "I 'm one to work; I 'm not afraid
of anything you can give me!" "My good man,"
'e says, "I 've had thirty of you here this morning.
I took the first two," he says, "and that 's all I want."
"Thank you, then rot the world!" I says. "Blas-
phemin'," he says, "is not the way to get a job.
Out you go, my lad!" [He laughs sardonically.]
Don't you raise 3^our voice because you 're starvin' ;
don't yer even think of it ; take it lyin' down ! Take it
like a sensible man, carn't you? And a little way

36 The Silver Box act n

down the street a lady says to me: [Pinching his
voice] '*D' you want to earn a few pence, my man?"
and gives me her dog to 'old outside a shop — fat as a
butler 'e was — tons o' meat had gone to the makin'
of him. It did 'er good, it did, made 'er feel 'erself
that charitable, but I see 'er lookin' at the copper
standin' alongside o' me, for fear I should make off
with 'er bloomin' fat dog. [He sits on the edge of the
bed and puts a boot on. Then looking up.] What 's in
that head o' yours? [Almost pathetically.] Carn't
you speak for once?

[There is a knock, and Mrs. Seddon, the land-
lady, appears, an anxious, harassed, shabby
woman in working clothes.]
Mrs. Seddon. I thought I 'card you come in, Mrs.
Jones. I 've spoke to my 'usband, but he says he
really can't afford to wait another day.

Jones. [With scowling jocularity.] Never you
mind what your 'usband says, you go your own way
like a proper independent woman. Here, Jenny,
chuck her that.

[Producing a sovereign from his trousers
pocket, he throws it to his wife, who catches
it in her apron ivith a gasp. Jones re-
sumes the lacing of his boots.]
Mrs. Jones. [Rubbing the sovereign stealthily^ I 'm
very sorry we 're so late with it, and of course it 's
fourteen shillings, so if you 've got six that will be
right.

[Mrs. Seddon takes the sovereign and fumbles
for the change!]
Jones. \]/Vith his eyes fixed on his boots.] Bit of a
surprise for yer, ain't it?

Mrs. Seddon. Thank you, and I 'm sure I 'm very

sc I The Silver Box 37

much obliged. [She does indeed appear surprised.]
1 '11 bring you the change.

Jones. [Mockingly.] Don't mention it.

Mrs. Seddon. Thank you, and I 'm sm-e I 'm very
much obliged. [She slides away.

[Mrs. Jones gazes at Jones who is still lacing
up his boots.]

Jones. I 've had a bit of luck. [Ptdling out the
crimson purse and some loose coins.] Picked up a purse
— seven pound and more.

Mrs. Jones. Oh, James!

Jones. Oh, James! What about Oh, James! I
picked it up I tell you. This is lost property, this is !

Mrs. Jones. But is n't there a name in it, or some-
thing?

Jones. Name? No, there ain't no name. This
don't belong to such as 'ave visitin' cards. This
belongs to a perfec' lidy. Tike an' smell it. [He
pitches her the purse, which she puts gently to her nose.]
Now, you tell me what I ought to have done. You
tell me that. You can always tell me what I ought
to ha' done, can't yer?

Mrs. Jones. [Laying down the purse.] I can't say
what you ought to have done, James. Of course the
money wasn't yours; you 've taken somebody else's
money.

Jones. Finding 's keeping. I '11 take it as wages
for the time I 've gone about the streets asking for
what's my rights. I'll take it for what's overdue,
d' ye hear? \With strange triumph.] I 've got money
in my pocket, my girl.

[Mrs. Jones goes on again with the prepara-
tion of the meal, Jones looking at her fur-
tively.]

38 The Silver Box act n

Money in my pocket ! And I 'm not goin' to waste it.
With this 'ere money I 'm goin' to Canada. I '11 let
you have a pound. [A silence.] You 've often
talked of leavin' me. You 've often told me I treat
you badly — well I 'ope you '11 be glad when I 'm gone.

Mrs. Jones. [Impassively.] You have treated me
very badly, James, and of course I can't prevent your
going; but I can't tell whether I shall be glad when
you 're gone.

Jones. It '11 change my luck. I 've 'ad nothing
but bad luck since I first took up with you. [More
softly.] And you 've 'ad no bloomin' picnic.

Mrs. Jones. Of course it would have been better
for us if we had never met. We were n't meant for
each other. But you 're set against me, that 's what
you are, and you have been for a long time. And
you treat me so badly, James, going after that Rosie
and all. You don't ever seem to think of the children
that I 've had to bring into the world, and of all the
trouble I 've had to keep them, and what '11 become of
them when you 're gone.

Jones. [Crossing the room gloomily.] If you think
I want to leave the little beggars you 're bloomin' well
mistaken.

Mrs. Jones. Of course I know you 're fond of them.

Jones. [Fingering the purse, half angrily.] Well,
then, you stow it, old girl. The kids '11 get along
better with you than when I 'm here. If I 'd ha'
known as much as I do now, I 'd never ha' had one o'
them. What 's the use o' bringin' 'em into a state
o' things like this? It 's a crime, that 's what it is;
but you find it out too late ; that 's what 's the matter
with this 'ere world.

[He puts the purse back in his pocket,]

s- ^ The Silver Box 39

Mrs. Jones. Of course it would have been better
for them, poor little things; but they're your own
children, and I wonder at you talkin' like that. I
should miss them dreadfully if I was to lose them.

Jones. [Sullenly.] An' you ain't the only one.

If I make money out there [Looking up, he sees

her shaking out his coat — in a changed voice.] Leave
that coat alone !

[The silver box drops from the pocket, scatter-
ing the cigarettes upon the bed. Taking up
the box she stares at it; he rushes at her and
snatches the box away.]

Mrs. Jones. [Cowering back against the bed.] Oh,
Jem! oh, Jem!

Jones. [Dropping the box on to the table.] You mind
what you 're sayin' ! When I go out I '11 take and
chuck it in the water along with that there purse.
I 'ad it when I was in liquor, and for what you do
when you 're in liquor you 're not responsible — and
that 's Gawd's truth as you ought to know. I don't
want the thing — I won't have it. I took it out o'
spite. I 'm no thief, I tell you; and don't you call
me one, or it '11 be the worse for you.

Mrs. Jones. [Twisting her apron strings.] It 's
Mr. Barth wick's ! You 've taken away my reputa-
tion. Oh, Jem, whatever made you?

Jones. What d' you mean?

Mrs. Jones. It 's been missed ; they think it's me.
Oh! whatever made you do it, Jem?

Jones. I tell you I was in liquor. I don't want it ;
what 's the good of it to me? If I were to pawn it
they 'd only nab me. I 'm no thief. I 'm no worse
than wot that young Barth wick is; he brought
'ome that purse that I picked up — a lady's purse —

40 The Silver Box act h

'ad it off 'er in a row, kept sayin' 'e 'd scored 'er
off. Well, I scored 'im off. Tight as an owl 'e
was! And d' you think anything '11 happen to
him?

Mrs. Jones. [As though speaking to herself.] Oh,
Jem! it 's the bread out of our mouths!

Jones. Is it then? I '11 make it hot for 'em yet.
What about that purse? What about young Barth-
wick?

[Mrs. Jones comes forward to the table and
tries to take the box; Jones prevents her.]
What do you want with that? You drop it, I say!

Mrs. Jones. I '11 take it back and tell them all
about it. [She attempts to wrest the box from him,

Jones. Ah, would yer?

[He drops the box, and rushes on her with a

snarl. She slips back past the bed. He

folloivs; a chair is overturned. The door

is opened; Snow comes in, a detective in

plain clothes and bowler hat, with clipped

moustaches. Jones drops his arms, Mrs.

Jones stands by the window gasping; Snow,

advancing swiftly to the table, puts his hand

on the silver box.

Snow. Doin' a bit o' skylarkin'? Fancy this is

what I 'm after. J. B., the very same. [He gets back

to the door, scrutinising the crest and cypher on the box.

To Mrs. Jones.] I 'm a police officer. Are you Mrs.

Jones?

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir.

Snow. My instructions are to take you on a charge
of stealing this box from J. Barthwick, Esquire, M.P.,
of 6, Rockingham Gate. Anything you say may be
used against you. Well, Missis?

sc. I The Silver Box 41

Mrs. Jones. [In her quiet voice, still out of breafJi,
her hand upon her breast.] Of course I did not take it,
sir. I never have taken anything that did n't belong
to me ; and of course I know nothing about it.

Snow. You were at the house this morning; you
did the room in which the box was left; you were
alone in the room. I find the box 'ere. You say you
did n't take it?

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, of course I say I did not take
it, because I did not.

Snow. Then how does the box come to be here?

Mrs. Jones. I would rather not say anything
about it.

Snow. Is this your husband?

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, this is my husband, sir.

Snow. Do you wish to say anything before I take
her?

[Jones remains silent, with his head bent
down.]
Well then. Missis. I '11 just trouble you to come along
with me quietly.

Mrs. Jones. [Twisting her hands.] Of course I
would n't say I had n't taken it if I had — and I did n't
take it, indeed I did n't. Of course I know appear-
ances are against me, and I can't tell you what really
happened. But m}^ children are at school, and
they'll be coming home — and I don't know what
they '11 do without me !

Snow. Your 'usband '11 see to them, don't you
worry. [He takes the woman gently by the arm.

Jones. You drop it — she 's all right! [Sullenly.]
I took the thing myself.

Snow. [Eyeing him] There, there, it does you
credit. Come along, Missis.

42 The Silver Box act h

Jones. [Passionately.] Drop it, 1 say, you bloom-
ing teck. She 's my wife ; she 's a respectable woman.
Take her if you dare !

Snow. Now, now. What's the good of this?
Keep a civil tongue, and it '11 be the better for all of
us.

[He puts his whistle in his mouth and draws

the woman to the door.]

Jones. [With a rush.] Drop her, and put up your

'ands, or I '11 soon make yer. You leave her alone,

will yer! Don't I tell yer, I took the thing myself!

Snow. [Blowing his whistle.] Drop your hands,

or I '11 take you too. Ah, would you?

[Jones, closing, deals him a blow. A Police-
man in uniform appears; there is a short
struggle and Jones is overpowered. Mrs.
Jones raises her hands and drops her face
on them.

The cvirtain falls.

SCENE II

[The Bart H wicks' dining-room the same evening. The
Barthwicks are seated at dessert.]
Mrs. Barthwick. John! [-4 silence broken by
the cracking of nuts.] John!

Barthwick. I wish you 'd speak about the nuts —
they 're uneatable. [He puts one in his mouth.

Mrs. Barthwick. It 's not the season for them.
I called on the Holyroods.

[Barthwick fiUs his glass with port.
Jack. Crackers, please, Dad.

[Barthwick passes the crackers. His de-
meanour is reflective.

s<'- II The Silver Box 43

Mrs. Barthwick. Lady Holyrood has got very
stout. I 've noticed it coming for a long time.

Barthwick. [Gloomily.] Stout? [He takes up
the crackers — with transparent airiness.] The Holy-
roods had some trouble with their servants, had n't
they?

Jack. Crackers, please. Dad.

Barthwick. [Passing the crackers.] It got into
the papers. The cook, was n't it?

Mrs. Barthwick. No, the lady's maid. I was
talking it over with Lady Holyrood. The girl used to
have her young man to see her.

Barthwick. [Uneasily.] I 'm not sure they were
wise

Mrs. Barthwick. My dear John, what are you
talking about? How could there be any alternative?
Think of the effect on the other serv^ants !

Barthwick. Of course in principle — I wasn't
thinking of that.

Jack. [Maliciotisly.] Crackers, please. Dad.

[Barthwick is compelled to pass the crackers.

Mrs. Barthwick. Lady Holyrood told me: "I
had her up," she said; "I said to her, 'You '11 leave
my house at once; I think your conduct disgraceful.
I can't tell, I don't know, and I don't wish to know,
what you were doing. I send you away on principle ;
you need not come to me for a character.' And the
girl said: 'If you don't give me my notice, my lady,
I want a month's wages. I 'm perfectly respectable.
I 've done nothing.' " — Done nothing !

Barthwick. H'm!

Mrs. Barthwick. Servants have too much li-
cense. They hang together so terribly you never
can tell what they 're really thinking; it 's as if they

44 The Silver Box act n

were all in a conspiracy to keep you in the dark. Even
with Marlow, you feel that he never lets you know
what 's really in his mind. I hate that secretiveness ;
it destroys all confidence. I feel sometimes I should
like to shake him.

Jack. Marlow 's a most decent chap. It 's simply
beastly every one knowing your affairs.

Barthwick. The less you say about that the
better !

Mrs. Barthwick. It goes all through the lower
classes. You can not tell when they are speaking the
truth. To-day when I was shopping after leaving
the Holyroods, one of these unemployed came up
and spoke to me. I suppose I only had twenty yards
or so to walk to the carriage, but he seemed to spring
up in the street.

Barthwick. Ah! You must be very careful
whom you speak to in these days.

Mrs. Barthwick. I did n't answer him, of course.
But I could see at once that he was n't telling the
truth.

Barthwick. [Cracking a nut.] There 's one very
good rule — look at their eyes.

Jack. Crackers, please, Dad.

Barthwick. [Passing the crackers.] If their eyes
are straightforward I sometimes give them sixpence.
It 's against my principles, but it 's most difficult to
refuse. If you see that they 're desperate, and dull,
and shifty-looking, as so many^of them are, it 's cer-
tain to mean drink, or crime, or something unsatis-
factory.

Mrs. Barthwick. This man had dreadful eyes.
He looked as if he could commit a murder. *' I 've 'ad
nothing to eat to-day," he said. Just like that.

sc. II The Silver Box 45

Barthwick. What was William about? He ought
to have been waiting.

Jack. [Raising his wine-glass to his nose.] Is this
the '63, Dad?

[Barthwick, holding his wine-glass to his eye,
lowers it and passes it before his nose.]

Mrs. Barthwick. I hate people that can't speak
the truth. [Father and son exchange a look behind
their port.] It 's just as easy to speak the truth as not.
/ 've always found it easy enough. It makes it impos-
sible to tell what is genuine; one feels as if one were
continually being taken in.

Barthwick. [Sententiously.] The lower classes
are their own enemies. If they would only trust us,
they would get on so much better.

Mrs. Barthwick. But even then it 's so often their
own fault. Look at that Mrs. Jones this morning.

Barthwick. I only want to do what 's right in
that matter. I had occasion to see Roper this after-
noon. I mentioned it to him. He 's coming in this
evening. It all depends on what the detective says.
I 've had my doubts. I 've been thinking it over.

Mrs. Barthwick. The woman impressed me most
unfavourably. She seemed to have no shame. That
affair she was talking about — she and the man when
they were young, so immoral! And before you and
Jack! I could have put her out of the room!

Barthwick. Oh! I don't want to excuse them,
but in looking at these matters one must consider

Mrs. Barthwick. Perhaps you '11 say the man's
employer was wrong in dismissing him?

Barthwick. Of course not. It 's not there that I
feel doubt. What I ask myself is

Jack. Port, please, Dad.

46 The Silver Box act u

Barthwick. [Circulating the decanter in religious
imitation of the rising and setting of the sun.'l I ask
myself whether we are sufficiently careful in making
inquiries about people before we engage them,
especially as regards moral conduct.

Jack. Pass the port, please, Mother!

Mrs. Barthwick. {Passing it.'] My dear boy,
are n't you drinking too much?

\]kck fills his glass.

Marlow. {Entering!] Detective Snow to see you,
sir.

Barthwick. {Uneasily.] Ah! say I '11 be with
him in a minute.

Mrs. Barthwick. {Without turning.] Let him
come in here, Marlow,

[Snow enters in an overcoat, his howler hat in
hand.]

Barthwick. {Half -rising.] Oh! Good evening!

Snow. Good evening, sir; good evening, ma'am.
I 've called round to report what I 've done, rather
late, I 'm afraid — another case took me away. {He
takes the silver box out of his pocket, causing a sensation
in the Barthwick family.] This is the identical
article, I beheve.

Barthwick. Certainly, certainly.

Snow. Havin' your crest and cypher, as you de-
scribed to me, sir, I 'd no hesitation in the matter.

Barthwick. Excellent. Will you have a glass of
{he glances at the waning port] — er — sherry — {pours
out sherry]. Jack, just give Mr. Snow this.

[Jack rises and gives the glass to Snow; then,
lolling in his chair, regards him indolently.]

Snow. {Drinking off wine and putting down the
glass.] After seeing you I went round to this woman's

sc. II The Silver Box 47

lodgings, sir. It 's a low neighborhood, and I thought
it as well to place a constable below — and not without
'e was wanted, as things turned out.

Barthwick. Indeed!

Snow. Yes, sir, I 'ad some trouble. I asked her
to account for the presence of the article. She could
give me no answer, except to deny the theft ; so I took
her into custody; then her husband came for me, so
I was obliged to take him, too, for assault. He was
very violent on the way to the station — very violent
— threatened you and your son, and altogether he
was a handful, I can tell you.

Mrs. Barthwick. What a ruffian he must be!

Snow. Yes, ma'am, a rough customer.

Jack. [Sipping his wine, bemused.] Punch the
beggar's head.

Snow. Given to drink, as I understand, sir.

Mrs. Barthwick. It 's to be hoped he will get a
severe punishment.

Snow. The odd thing is, sir, that he persists in
sayin' he took the box himself.

Barthwick. Took the box himself! [He smiles.]
What does he think to gain by that?

Snow. He says the young gentleman was intoxi-
cated last night — -[Jack stops the cracking of a nut, and
looks at Snow. Barthwick, losing his smile, has put
his wine-glass down; there is a silence — Snow, looking
from face to face, remarks] — took him into the house
and gave him whisky; and under the influence of an
empty stomach the man says he took the box.

Mrs. Barthwick. The impudent wretch!

Barthwick. D' you mean that he — er — intends
to put this forward to-morrow

Snow. That '11 be his line, sir; but whether he 's

48 The Silver Box act h

endeavouring to shield his wife, or whether [he looks
at Jack] there 's something in it, will be for the
magistrate to say.

Mrs. Barthwick. [Haughtily.] Something in
what? I don't understand you. As if my son would
- bring a man like that into the house !

Barthwick. [From the fireplace, with an effort to be
calm.] My son can speak for himself, no doubt. —
Well, Jack, what do you say?

Mrs. Barthwick. [Sharply.] What does he say?
Why, of course, he says the whole story 's stuff!

Jack. [Embarrassed.] Well, of course, I — of
course, I don't know anything about it.

Mrs. Barthwick. I should think not, indeed!
[To Snow.] The man is an audacious ruffian!

Barthwick. [Suppressing jumps.] But in view
of my son's saying there 's nothing in this — this fable
— will it be necessary to proceed against the man
under the circumstances?

Snow. We shall have to charge him with the
assault, sir. It would be as well for your son to come
down to the Court. There '11 be a remand, no doubt.
The queer thing is there was quite a sum of money
found on him, and a crimson silk purse. [Barthwick
starts; Jack rises and sits down again.] I suppose
the lady has n't missed her purse?

Barthwick. [Hastily.] Oh, no! Oh! No!

Jack. No!

Mrs. Barthwick. [Dreamily.] No! [To Snow.]
I 've been inquiring of the servants. This man does
hang about the house. I shall feel much safer if he
gets a good long sentence ; I do think we ought to be
protected against such ruffians.

Barthwick. Yes, yes, of course, on principle — •

sc. II The Silver Box 49

but in this case we have a number of things to think of.
[To Snow.] I suppose, as you say, the man must be
charged, eh?

Snow. No question about that, sir.

Barthwick. [Staring gloomily at Jack.] This
prosecution goes very much against the grain with me.
I have great sympathy with the poor. In my posi-
tion I 'm bound to recognise the distress there is
amongst them. The condition of the people leaves
much to be desired. D' you follow me? I wish I
could see my way to drop it.

Mrs. Barthwick. [Sharply.] John! it's simply
not fair to other people. It 's putting property at the
mercy of any one who likes to take it.

Barthwick, [Trying to make signs to her aside.']
I 'm not defending him, not at all. I 'm trying to
look at the matter broadly.

Mrs. Barthwick. Nonsense, John, there 's a time
for everything.

Snow. [Rather sardonically.'] I might point out,
sir, that to withdraw the charge of stealing would
not make much difference, because the facts must
come out [he looks significantly at Jack] in reference
to the assault; and as I said that charge will have to
go forward.

Barthwick. [Hastily.] Yes, oh! exactly! It's
entirely on the woman's account — entirely a matter
of my own private feelings.

Snow. If I were you, sir, I should let things
take their course. It 's not likely there '11 be
much difficulty. These things are very quick
settled.

Barthwick. [Doubtfully.] You think so — you
think so?

50 The Silver Box act u

Jack. [Rousing himself.] I say, what shall I have
to swear to?

Snow. That 's best known to yourself, sir. [Re-
treating to the door.] Better employ a solicitor, sir,
in case anything should arise. We shall have the
butler to prove the loss of the article. You '11 excuse
me going, I 'm rather pressed to-night. The case
may come on any time after eleven. Good evening,
sir; good evening, ma'am. I shall have to produce
the box in court to-morrow, so if you '11 excuse me,
sir, I may as well take it with me.

[He takes the silver box and leaves them with a

little bow.]
[Barthwick makes a move to follow him, then
dashing his hands beneath his coat tails,
speaks with desperation.]

Barthwick. I do wish you 'd leave me to manage
things myself. You will put your nose into matters
you know nothing of. A pretty mess you 've made
of this!

Mrs. Barthwick. [Coldly.] I don't in the least
know what you 're talking about. If you can't
stand up for your rights, I can. I 've no patience
with your principles, it 's such nonsense.

Barthwick. Principles! Good Heavens! What
have principles to do with it for goodnes ssake?
Don't you know that Jack was drunk last night!

Jack. Dad!

Mrs. Barthwick. [In horror rising.] Jack!

Jack. Look here, Mother — I had supper. Every-
body does. I mean to say — you know what I mean
— it 's absurd to call it being drunk. At Oxford
everybody gets a bit "on" sometimes

sc. II The Silver Box 51

Mrs. Barthwick. Well, I think it's most dread- -
ful! If that is really what you do at Oxford ■

Jack. [Angrily.] Well, why did you send me
there? One must do as other fellows do. It 's such
nonsense, I mean, to call it being drunk. Of course
I 'm awfully sorry. I 've had such a beastly headache

all day.

Barthwick. Tcha! If you 'd only had the com-
mon decency to remember what happened when you
came in. Then we should know what truth there
was in what this fellow sa3rs— as it is, it 's all the most
confounded darkness.

Jack. [Staring as though at half-formed visions.] I
just get a — and then — it 's gone— —

Mrs. Barthw'ick. Oh, Jack! do you mean to say
you were so tipsy you can't even remember

Jack. Look here, Mother ! Of course I remember
I came — I must have come

Barthwick. [Unguardedly, and walking up and
down.] Tcha!-— and that infernal purse! Good
Heavens! It '11 get into the papers. Who on earth
could have foreseen a thing like this? Better to
have lost a dozen cigarette-boxes, and said nothing
about it. [To his wife.] It's all your doing. I
told you so from the first. I wish to goodness Roper
livould come!

Mrs. Barthwick. [Sharply.] I don't know what
you 're talking about, John.

Barthwick. [Turning on her.] No, you— you—
you don't know anything! [Sharply.] Where the
devil is Roper? If he can see a way out of this he 's
a better man than I take him for. I defy any one to
see a way out of it. / can't.

Jack. Look here, don't excite Dad— I can simply

52 The Silver Box act n

say I was too beastly tired, and don't remember any-
thing except that I came in and [in a dying voice]
went to bed the same as usual.

Barthwick. Went to bed? Who knows where
you went — I 've lost all confidence. For all I know
you slept on the floor.

Jack. [Indignantly.] I did n't, I slept on the

Barthwick. [Sitting on the sofa.] Who cares
where you slept; what does it matter if he mentions
the — ^the — a perfect disgrace?

Mrs. Barthwick. What ? [A silence.] li nsist
on knowing.

Jack. Oh! nothing

Mrs. Barthwick. Nothing? What do you mean
by nothing, Jack? There 's your father in such a
state about it

Jack. It 's only my purse.

Mrs. Barthwick. Your purse! You know per-
fectly well you have n't got one.

Jack. Well, it was somebody else's — it was all a
joke — I did n't want the beastly thing

Mrs. Barthwick. Do you mean that you had
another person's purse, and that this man took it
too?

Barthwick. Tcha! Of course he took it too!
A man like that Jones will make the most of it. It 'U
get into the papers.

Mrs. Barthwick. I don't understand. What on
earth is all the fuss about? [Bending over Jack, and
softly.) Jack now, tell me dear! Don't be afraid.
What is it? Come!

Jack. Oh, don't Mother! <r

Mrs. Barthwick. But don't what, dear?

Jack. It was pure sport. I don't know how I got

SC. II

The Silver Box 53

the thing. Of course I 'd had a bit of a row— I
did n't know what I was doing— I was— I was— well,
you know— I suppose I must have pulled the bag
out of her hand.

Mrs. Barthwick. Out of her hand? Whose
hand ? What bag— whose bag ?

Jack. Oh! I don't know— her bag— it belonged
iQ — [in a desperate and rising voice] a woman.
Mrs. Barthwick. A woman? OhI Jack! No!
Jack. [Jumping up.] You womd have it. I
did n't want to tell you. It 's not my fault. ^

[The door opens and Marlow ushers in a man
of middle age, inclined to corpulence, in even-
ing dress. He has a ruddy, thin moustache,
and dark, quick-moving little eyes. His
eyebrows are Chinese.
Marlow. Mr. Roper, sir. [He leaves the room.

Roper. [With a quick look round.] How do you

do?

[But neither Jack nor Mrs. Barthwick make a sign.

Barthwick. [Hurrying.] Thank goodness you 've
come, Roper. You remember what I told you this
afternoon; we 've just had the detective here.

Roper. Got the box?

Barthwick. Yes, yes, but look here— it was n't
the charwoman at all; her drunken loafer of a husband
took the things— he says that fellow there [he waves
his hand at Jack, who with his shoulder raised, seems
trying to ward off a blow] let him into the house last
night. Can you imagine such a thing.

[Roper laughs.

Barthwick. [With excited emphasis.] It's no
laughing matter, Roper. I told you about that busi-
ness of Jack's too— don't you see— the brute took

54 The Silver Box act u

both the things — took that infernal purse. It 11 get
into the papers.

Roper. [Raising his eyebrows.] H'm! The purse!
Depravity in high life ! What does your son say ?

Barthwick. He remembers nothing. D n!

Did you ever see such a mess? It '11 get into the
papers.

Mrs. Barthwick. [With her hand across her eyes.]

Oh ! it 's not that

[Barthwick and Roper turn and look at
her.]
Barthwick. It 's the idea of that woman — she 's

just heard

[Roper nods. And Mrs. Barthwick, set-
ting her lips, gives a slow look at Jack, and
sits down at the table.]
What on earth 's to be done, Roper? A ruffian like
this Jones will make all the capital he can out of that
purse.

Mrs. Barthwick. I don't believe that Jack took
that purse.

Barthwick. What — when the woman came here
for it this morning?

Mrs. Barthwick. Here? She had the impu-
dence? Why was n't I told?

[She looks round from face to face — tw one
answers her, there is a pause.]
Barthwick. [Suddenly.] What 's to be done,
Roper?

Roper. [Quietly to Jack.] I suppose you did n't
leave your latch-key in the door?
Jack. [Sullenly.] Yes, I did.
Barthwick. Good heavens! What next?
Mrs. Barthwick. I 'm certain yovi never let that

sc. II The Silver Box 55

man into the house, Jack, it 's a wild invention. I 'm
sure there 's not a word of truth in it, Mr. Roper.

Roper. [Very suddenly,] Where did you sleep
last night?

Jack. [Promptly.] On the sofa, there — [hesitat-
ing] that is — I

Barthwick. On the sofa? D' you mean to say
you did n't go to bed?

Jack. [Sullenly.] No.

Barthwick. If you don't remember anything,
how can you remember that?

Jack. Because I woke up there in the morning.

Mrs. Barthwick. Oh, Jack!

Barthwick. Good Gracious!

Jack. And Mrs. Jones saw me. I wish you
would n't bait me so.

Roper. Do you remember giving any one a drink?

Jack. By Jove, I do seem to remember a fellow

with — a fellow with [He looks at Roper.] I say,

d' you want me ?

Roper. [Quick as lightning.] With a dirty face?

Jack. [With illumination.] I do — ^I distinctly re-
member his

[Barthwick moves abruptly; Mrs. Barth-
wick looks at Roper angrily, and touches
her son's arm.]

Mrs. Barthwick. You don't remember, it 's
ridiculous! I don't believe the man was ever here
at all.

Barthwick. You must speak the truth, if it is the
truth. But if you do remember such a dirty business,
I shall wash my hands of you altogether.

Jack. [Glaring at them.] Well, what the devil

Mrs. Barthwick. Jack!

$6 The Silver Box act n

Jack. Well, Mother, I — I don't know what you do
want.

• Mrs. Barthwick. We want you to speak the
truth and say you never let this low man into the
house.

Barthwick. Of course if you think that you
really gave this man whisky in that disgraceful way,
and let him see what you 'd been doing, and were in
such a disgusting condition that you don't remember a
word of it

Roper. [Quick.] I 've no memory myself — never
had.

Barthwick. [Desperately.] I don't know what
you 're to say.

Roper [To Jack.] Say nothing at all! Don't
put yourself in a false position. The man stole the
things or the woman stole the things, you had nothing
to do with it. You were asleep on the sofa.

Mrs. Barthwick. Your leaving the latch-key in
the door was quite bad enough, there's no need
to mention anything else. [Touching his forehead
softly.] My dear, how hot your head is !

Jack. But I want to know what I 'm to do. [Pas-
sionately.] I won't be badgered like this.

[Mrs. Barthwick recoils from him.

Roper. [Very quickly.] You forget all about it.
You were asleep.

Jack. Must I go down to the Court to-morrow?

Roper. [Shaking his head.] No.

Barthwick. [In a relieved voice.] Is that so?

Roper. Yes.

Barthwick. But you 'II go. Roper.

Roper. Yes.

Jack. [With wan cheerfulness.] Thanks, awfully!

sc. II The Silver Box 57

So long as I don't have to go. [Putting his hand up to
his head.] I think if you '11 excuse me — I 've had a
most beastly day. [He looks from his father to his
mother.]

Mrs. Barthwick. [Turning quickly.] Goodnight,
my boy.

Jack. Good-night, Mother.

[He goes out. Mrs. Barthwick heaves a
sigh. There is a silence.]

Barthwick. He gets off too easily. But for my
money that woman would have prosecuted him.

Roper. You find money useful.

Barthwick. I 've my doubts whether we ought
to hide the truth

Roper. There '11 be a remand.

Barthwick, What! D' you mean he'll have to
appear on the remand.

Roper. Yes.

Barthwick. H'm, I thought you 'd be able to

Look here, Roper, you must keep that purse out of the
papers. [Roper fixes his little eyes on him and
nods.]

Mrs. Barthwick. Mr. Roper, don't you think the
magistrate ought to be told what sort of people these
Jones's are; I mean about their immorality before
they were married. I don't know if John told you.

Roper. Afraid it 's not material.

Mrs. Barthwick. Not material?

Roper. Purely private life! May have happened
to the magistrate.

Barthwick. \With a movement as if to shift a bur-
den.] Then you '11 take the thing into your hands?

Roper. If the gods are kind. [He holds his hand
out.]

S8 The Silver Box act h

Barthwick. [Shaking it dubiously.] Kind — eh?
What? You going?

Roper. Yes. I 've another case, something like
yours — ^most unexpected.

[He bows to Mrs. Barthwick, and goes out,
followed by Barthwick, talking to the last,
Mrs. Barthwick at the table bursts into
smothered sobs. Barthwick returns.]

Barthwick. [To himself.] There '11 be a scandal!

Mrs. Barthwick. [Disguising her grief at once,] I
simply can't imagine what Roper means by making
a joke of a thing like that!

Barthwick. [Staring strangely.] You! You can't
imagine anything! You 've no more imagination
than a fly!

Mrs. Barthwick. [Angrily.] You dare to tell me
that I have no imagination.

Barthwick. [Fhtstered.] I — I 'm upset. From
beginning to end, the whole thing has been utterly
-against my principles.

Mrs. Barthwick. Rubbish! You haven't any!
Your principles are nothing in the world but sheer —
fright!

Barthwick. \Walking to the window.] I 've
never been frightened in my life. You heard what
Roper said. It 's enough to upset one when a thing
like this happens. Everything one says and does
seems to turn in one's mouth — it 's — it 's uncanny.
It 's not the sort of thing I 've been accustomed
to. [As though stifling, he throws the window open.
The faint sobbing of a child comes in.] What 's
that?

[They listen.

Mrs. Barthwick. [Sharply.] I can't stand that

sc. 11 The Silver Box 59

crying. I must send Marlow to stop it. My nerves
are all on edge. [She rings the bell,

Barthwick. I '11 shut the window; you '11 hear
nothing. [He shuts the window. There is silence.

Mrs. Barthwick. [Sharply.] That's no good!
It 's on my nerves. Nothing upsets me like a child's
crying. [Marlow comes in.] What 's that noise of
crying, Marlow? It sounds like a child.

Barthwick. It is a child. I can see it against the
railings.

Marlow. [Opening the window, and looking out —
quietly.] It's Mrs. Jones's little boy, ma'am; he
came here after his mother.

Mrs. Barthwick. [Moving quickly to the window.]
Poor little chap! John, we ought n't to go on with
this!

Barthwick. [Sitting heavily in a chair.] Ah!
but it 's out of our hands!

[Mrs. Barthwick turns her back to the win-
dow. There is an expression of distress on
her face. She stands motionless, compress-
ing her lips. The crying begins again.
Barthwick covers his ears with his hands,
and Marlow shuts the window. The cry-
ing ceases.]

The curtain falls.

ACT III

Eight days have passed, and the scene is a London
Police Court at one o'clock. A canopied seat of
Justice is surmounted by the lion and unicorn.
Before the fire a worn-looking Magistrate is
warming his coat-tails, and staring at two little
girls in faded blue and orange rags, who are placed
before the dock. Close to the witness-box is a Re-
lieving Officer in an overcoat, and a short brown
beard. Beside the Utile girls stands a bald Police
Constable. On the front bench are sitting Barth-
wicK and Roper, and behind them Jack. In the
mailed enclosure are seedy-looking men and women.
Some prosperous constables sit or stand about.
Magistrate. \ln his paternal and ferocious voice,
hissing his s's."] Now let us dispose of these young
ladies.

Usher. Theresa Livens, Maud Livens.

\The bald Constable indicates the little girls,
who remain silent, disillusioned, inatten-
tive^
Relieving Officer!

{The Relieving Officer steps into the witness-
box.]
Usher. The evidence you give to the Court shall
be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth, so help you God! Kiss the book!

{The book is kissed.
60

ACT m The Silver Box 6r

Relieving Officer. [In a monotone, pausing
slightly at each sentence end, that his evidence may he
inscribed.'] About ten o'clock this morning, your
Worship, I found these two Httle girls in Blue Street,
Pulham, crying outside a public-house. Asked where
their home was, they said they had no home. Mother
had gone away. Asked about their father. Their
father had no work. Asked where they slept last
night. At their aunt's. I *ve made inquiries, your
Worship. The wife has broken up the home and gone
on the streets. The husband is out of work and living
in common lodging-houses. The husband's sister has
eight children of her own, and says she can't afford
to keep these little girls any longer.

Magistrate. [Returning to his seat beneath the
canopy of Justice.] Now, let me see. You say the
mother is on the streets; what evidence have you of
that?

Relieving Officer. I have the husband here,
your Worship.

Magistrate. Very well; then let us see him.

[There are cries of "Livens." The Magis-
trate leans forward, and -stares with hard
compassion at the little girls. Livens
comes in. He is quiet, with grizzled hair,
and a muffler for a collar. He stands
beside the witness-box.]
And you are their father? Now, why don't you
keep your little girls at home. How is it you leave
them to wander about the streets like this?

Livens. I 've got no home, your Worship. I 'm
living from 'and to mouth. I 've got no work; and
nothin' to keep them on.
Magistrate. How is that?

62 The Silver Box act m

Livens. [Ashamedly.] My wife, she broke my
'ome up, and pawned the things.

Magistrate. But what made you let her?

Levins. Your Worship, I 'd no chance to stop 'er;
she did it when I was out lookin' for work.

Magistrate. Did you ill-treat her?

Livens. [Emphatically.] I never raised my 'and
to her in my life, your Worship.

Magistrate. Then what was it — did she drink?

Livens. Yes, your Worship.

Magistrate. Was she loose in her behaviour?

Livens. [In a low voice.] Yes, your Worship.

Magistrate. And where is she now?

Livens. I don't know your Worship. She went
off with a man, and after that I •

Magistrate. Yes, yes. Who knows anything of
her? [To the bald Constable.] Is she known here?

Relieving Officer. Not in this district, your
Worship; but I have ascertained that she is well
known

Magistrate. Yes — yes; we '11 stop at that. Now
[To the Father] you say that she has broken up your
home, and left these little girls. What provision
can you make for them? You look a strong man.

Livens. So I am, your Worship. I 'm willin'
enough to work, but for the life of me I can't get
anything to do.

Magistrate. But have you tried?

Livens. I 've tried everything, your Worship —
I 've tried my 'ardest.

Magistrate. Well, well [There is a silence.

Relieving Officer. If your Worship thinks it 's a
case, my people are willing to take them.

Magistrate. Yes, yes, I know; but I 've no evi-

ACT m The Silver Box 63

dence that this man is not the proper guardian for
his children. [He rises and goes back to the fire.

Relieving Officer. The mother, your Worship,
is able to get access to them.

Magistrate. Yes, yes ; the mother, of course, is an
improper person to have anything to do with them.
[To the Father.] Well, now what do you say?

Livens. Your Worship, I can only say that if I
could get work I should be only too willing to pro-
vide for them. But what can I do, your Worship?
Here I am obliged to live from 'and to mouth in
these 'ere common lodging-houses. I 'm a strong
man — I 'm willing to work — I 'm half as alive again
as some of 'em — ^but you see, your Worship, my 'airs'
turned a bit, owing to the fever — [Touches his hair] — ■
and that's against me; and I don't seem to get a
chance anyhow.

Magistrate. Yes — yes. [Slowly.] Well, I think
it 's a case. [Staring his hardest at the little girls.]
Now, are you willing that these little girls should be
sent to a home.

Livens. Yes, your Worship, I should be very
willing.

Magistrate. Well, I '11 remand them for a week.
Bring them again to-day week; if I see no reason
against it then, I '11 make an order.

Relieving Officer. To-day week, your Worship.

[The bald Constable takes the little girls out

by the shoulders. The father follows them.

The Magistrate, returning to his seat,

bends over and talks to his Clerk inaudibly.]

Barthwick. [Speaking behind his hand.] A pain-
ful case. Roper; very distressing state of things.

Roper. Hundreds like this in the Police Courts.

64 The Silver Box act m

Barthwick. Most distressing! The more I see of
it, the more important this question of the condition
of the people seems to become. I shall certainly
make a point of taking up the cudgels in the House.
I shall move — ■ — •

[The Magistrate ceases talking to his Clerk.

Clerk. Remands!

{Barthwick stops abruptly. There is a stir and Mrs.
Jones comes in by the public door; Jones, ushered
by policemen, comes from the prisoner's door.
They file into the dock.]

Clerk. James Jones, Jane Jones.
Usher. Jane Jones!

Barthwick. [In a whisper.] The purse — the
purse must be kept out of it, Roper. Whatever hap-
pens you must keep that out of the papers.

[Roper nods.
Bald Constable. Hush!

[Mrs. Jones, dressed in her thin, black, wispy

dress, and black straw hat, stands motionless

with hands crossed on the front rail of the

dock. Jones leans against the back rail of

the dock, and keeps half turning, glancing

defiantly about him. He is haggard and

unshaven.]

Clerk. [Consulting with his papers.] This is the

case remanded from last Wednesday, sir. Theft of

a silver cigarette-box and assault on the police; the

two charges were taken together. Jane Jones ! James

Jones!

Magistrate. [Staring.] Yes, yes ; I remember.
Clerk. Jane Jones.

ACT III The Silver Box 65

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir.

Clerk. Do you admit stealing a silver cigarette-
box valued at five pounds, ten shillings, from the
house of John Barthwick, M.P., between the hours
of II P.M. on Easter Monday and 8.45 a.m. on Easter
Tuesday last? Yes, or no?

Mrs. Jones. [In a low voiced No, sir, I do not, sir.

Clerk. James Jones? Do you admit stealing a
silver cigarette-box valued at five pounds, ten shillings,
from the house of John Barthwick, M.P., between the
hours of II P.M. on Easter Monday and 8.45 a.m. on
Easter Tuesday last. And further making an assault
on the police when in the execution of their duty at
3 P.M. on Easter Tuesday? Yes or no?

Jones. [Sullenly.'] Yes, but I 've got a lot to say
about it.

Magistrate. [To the Clerk.] Yes — yes. But
how comes it that these two people are charged with
the same offence? Are they husband and wife?

Clerk. Yes, sir. You remember you ordered a
remand for further evidence as to the story of the
male prisoner.

Magistrate. Have they been in custody since?

Clerk. You released the woman on her own recog-
nisances, sir.

Magistrate. Yes, yes, this is the case of the silver
box; I remember now. Well?

Clerk. Thomas Marlow.

[The cry of "Thomas Marlow" is repeated.
Marlow comes in, and steps into the wit-
ness-hox.]

Usher. The evidence you give to the court shall
be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth, so help you God. Kiss the book.

66 The Silver Box act m

[The book is kissed. The silver box is handed
up, and placed on the rail]

Clerk. [Reading 'from his papers.] Your name is
Thomas Marlow? Are you butler to John Barth-
wick, M.P., of 6, Rockingham Gate?

Marlow. Yes, sir.

Clerk. Is that the box?

Marlow. Yes sir.

Clerk. And did you miss the same at 8.45 on the
following morning, on going to remove the tray?

Marlow. Yes, sir.

Clerk. Is the female prisoner known to you?

[Marlow nods.

Is she the charwoman employed at 6, Rockingham
Gate?

[Again Marlow nods.

Did you at the time of your missing the box find
her in the room alone?

Marlow. Yes, sir.

Clerk. Did you afterwards communicate the loss
to your employer, and did he send you to the police
station ?

Marlow. Yes, sir.

Clerk. [To Mrs. Jones.] Have you anything to
ask him?

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, nothing, thank you, sir.

Clerk. [To Jones.] James Jones, have you any-
thing to ask this witness?

Jones. I don't know 'im.

Magistrate. Are you sure you put the box in the
place you say at the time you say?

Marlow. Yes, your Worship.

Magistrate. Very well; then now let us have the
officer.

ACT III The Silver Box 67

[Marlow leaves the box, and Snow goes into it.

Usher. The evidence you give to the court shall
be the truth, the whole truth, and notliing but the
truth, so help you God. [The book is kissed.

Clerk. [Reading from his papers.] Your name is
Robert Snow? You are a detective in the X. B.
division of the Metropolitan police force? According
to instructions received did you on Easter Tuesday
last proceed to the prisoner's lodgings at 34, Merthyr
Street, St. Soames's? And did you on entering see
the box produced, lying on the table?

Snow. Yes, sir.

Clerk. Is that the box?

Snow. [Fingering the box.] Yes, sir.

Clerk. And did you thereupon take possession of
it, and charge the female prisoner with theft of the
box from 6, Rockingham Gate? And did she deny the

same

Snow. Yes, sir.

Clerk. Did you take her into custody?

Snow. Yes, sir.

Magistrate. What was her behaviour?

Snow. Perfectly quiet, your Worship. She per-
sisted in the denial. That 's all.

Magistrate. Do you know her?

Snow. No, your Worship.

Magistrate. Is she known here?

Bald Constable. No, your Worship, they 're
neither of them known, we 've nothing against them
at all.

Clerk. [To Mrs. Jones.] Have you anything to
ask the officer?

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, thank you, I 've nothing to
ask him.

68 The Silver Box act m

Magistrate. Very well then — go on.

Clerk. [Reading from his papers.] And while you
were taking the female prisoner did the male prisoner
interpose, and endeavour to hinder you in the execu-
tion of your duty, and did he strike you a blow?

Snow. Yes, sir.

Clerk. And did he say, "You let her go, I took
the box myself " ?

Snow. He did.

Clerk. And did you blow your whistle and obtaia
the assistance of another constable, and take him
into custody?

Snow. I did.

Clerk. Was he violent on the way to the station,
and did he use bad language, and did he several
times repeat that he had taken the box himself?

[Snow nods.

Did you thereupon ask him in what manner he
had stolen the box? And did you understand him
to say he had entered the house at the invitation of
young Mr. Barthwick

[Barthwick, turning in his seat, frowns at
Roper.]
after midnight on Easter Monday, and partaken of
-whisky, and that under the influence of the whisky
lie had taken the box?

Snow. I did, sir.

Clerk. And was his demeanour throughout very
violent?

Snow. It was very violent.

Jones. [Breaking in.] Violent — of course it was!
You put your 'ands on my wife when I kept tellin*
you I took the thing myself.

Magistrate. [Hissing, with protruded neck.] Now

ACT III The Silver Box 69

— you will have your chance of saying what you
want to say presently. Have you anything to ask the
officer?

Jones. [Stdlenly.] No.

Magistrate. Very well then. Now let us hear
what the female prisoner has to say first.

Mrs. Jones. Well, your Worship, of course I can
only say what I 've said all along, that I did n't take
the box.

Magistrate. Yes, but did you know that it was
taken ?

Mrs. Jones. No, your Worship. And, of course,
to what my husband says, your Worship, I can't
speak of my own knowledge. Of course, I know
that he came home very late on the Monday night.
It was past one o'clock when he came in, and he was
not himself at all.

Magistrate. Had he been drinking?

Mrs. Jones. Yes, your Worship.

Magistrate. And was he drunk?

Mrs. Jones. Yes, your Worship, he was almost
quite drunk.

Magistrate. And did he say anything to you?

Mrs. Jones. No, your Worship, only to call me
names. And of course in the morning when I got
up and went to work he was asleep. And I don't
know anything more about it until I came home
again. Except that Mr. Barthwick — that 's my em-
ployer, your Worship — told me the box was missing.

Magistrate. Yes, yes.

Mrs. Jones. But of course when I was shaking out
my husband's coat the cigarette-box fell out and all
the cigarettes were scattered on the bed.

Magistrate. You say all the cigarettes were

70 The Silver Box act m

scattered on the bed? [To Snow.] Did you see
the cigarettes scattered on the bed?

Snow. No, your Worship, I did not.

Magistrate. You see he says he did n't see them.

Jones. Well, they were there for all that.

Snow. I can't say, your Worship, that I had the
opportunity of going round the room; I had all my
work cut out with the male prisoner.

Magistrate. [To Mrs. Jones.] Well, what more
have you to say?

Mrs. Jones. Of course when I saw the box, your
Worship, I was dreadfully upset, and I could n't think
why he had done such a thing; when the officer
came we were having words about it, because
it is ruin to me, your Worship, in my profes-
sion, and I have three little children dependent
on me.

Magistrate. [Protruding his neck]. Yes — yes —
but what did he say to you?

Mrs. Jones. I asked him whatever came over him
to do such a thing — and he said it was the drink.
He said he had had too much to drink, and some-
thing came over him. And of course, your Worship,
he had had very little to eat all day, and the drink
does go to the head when you have not had enough
to eat. Your Worship may not know, but it is the
truth. And I would like to say that all through his
married life, I have never known him to do such
a thing before, though we have passed through great
hardships and [speaking with soft emphasis] I am quite
sure he would not have done it if he had been him-
self at the time.

Magistrate. Yes, yes. But don't you know that
that is no excuse?

ACT Hi The Silver Box 71

Mrs. Jones. Yes, your Worship. I know that it
is no excuse.

[The Magistrate leans over and parleys with
his Clerk.]

Jack. [Leaning over from his seat behind.] I say,
Dad

B arthwick. Tsst ! [Sheltering his mouth he speaks
to Roper.] Roper, you had better get up now
and say that considering the circumstances and the
poverty of the prisoners, we have no wish to proceed
any further, and if the magistrate would deal with the
case as one of disorder only on the part of

Bald Constable. Hssshh!

[Roper shakes his head.

Magistrate. Now, supposing what you say and
what your husband says is true, what I have to con-
sider is — how did he obtain access to this house,
and were you in any way a party to his obtaining
access? You are the charwoman employed at the
house?

Mrs. Jones. Yes, your Worship, and of course if I
had let him into the house it would have been very
wrong of me ; and I have never done such a thing in
any of the houses where I have been employed.

Magistrate. Well — so you say. Now let us hear
what story the male prisoner makes of it.

Jones. [Who leans with his arms on the dock behind,
speaks in a slow, sullen voice.] Wot I say is wot my
wife says. I 've never been 'ad up in a police court
before, an' I can prove I took it when in liquor. I
told her, and she can tell you the same, that I was
goin' to throw the thing into the water sooner then 'ave
it on my mind.

Magistrate. But how did you get into the house f

72 The Silver Box act m

Jones. I was passin'. I was goin' 'ome from the
"Goat and Bells."

Magistrate. The "Goat and Bells," — what is
that? A public-house?

Jones. Yes, at the comer. It was Bank 'oliday,
an' I'd 'ad a drop to drink. I see this young Mr.
Barthwick tryin' to find the keyhole on the wrong
side of the door.

Magistrate. Well?

Jones. [Slowly and with many pauses.] Well — •
— I 'elped 'im to find it — drunk as a lord 'e was. He
goes on, an' comes back again, and says, I 've got
nothin' for you, 'e says, but come in an' 'ave a drink.
So I went in just as you might 'ave done yourself. We
'ad a drink o' whisky just as you might have 'ad, 'nd
young Mr. Barthwick says to me, "Take a drink 'nd
a smoke. Take anything you like, 'e says." And
then he went to sleep on the sofa. I 'ad some more
whisky — an' I 'ad a smoke — and I 'ad some more
whisky — an* I carn't tell yer what 'appened after
that.

Magistrate. Do 3^ou mean to say that you were
so drunk that you can remember nothing?

Jack. [Softly to his father.] I say, that 's exactly
what

Barthwick. Tssh!

Jones. That 's what I do mean.

Magistrate. And yet you say you stole the
box?

Jones. I never stole the box. I took it.

Magistrate. [Hissing with protruded neck.] You
did not steal it — you took it. Did it belong to you —
what is that but -stealing?

Jones. I took it.

ACT III The Silver Box 73

Magistrate. You took it — you took it away from

their house and you took it to your house

Jones. [Sullenly breaking in.] I ain't got a house.
Magistrate. Very well, let us hear what this
young man Mr. — Mr. Barthwick — has to say to your
story.

[Snow leaves the witness-box. The Bald

Constable beckons Jack, who, clutching

his hat, goes into the witness-box. Roper

moves to the table set apart for his profession.

Swearing Clerk. The evidence you give to the

court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing

but the truth, so help you God. Kiss the book.

[The book is kissed.
Roper. [Examining.] What is your name?
Jack. [In a low voice.] John Barthwick, Junior.

[The Clerk writes it down.
Roper. Where do you live?
Jack. At 6, Rockingham Gate.

[.4/^ his answers are recorded by the Clerk.
Roper. You are the son of the owner?
Jack. [In a very low voice.] Yes.
Roper. Speak up, please. Do you know the
prisoners ?

Jack. [Looking at the Joneses, in a low voice.]
I 've seen Mrs. Jones. I — [in a loud voice] don't know
the man.

Jones. Well, I know you!
Bald Constable. Hssh!

Roper. Now, did you come in late on the night of
Easter Monday?
Jack. Yes.

Roper. And did you by mistake leave your latch-
key in the door?

74 The Silver Box act m

Jack. Yes.

Magistrate, Oh! You left your latch-key in the
door?

Roper. And is that all you can remember about
your coming in?

Jack. [In a loud voice.] Yes, it is.

Magistrate. Now, you have heard the male pris-
oner's story, what do you say to that?

Jack. [Turning to the Magistrate, speaks suddenly
in a confident, straightforward voice.] The fact of the
matter is, sir, that I 'd been out to the theatre that
night, and had supper afterwards, and I came in
late.

Magistrate. Do you remember this man being
outside when you came in?

Jack. No, sir. [He hesitates.] I don't think I do.

Magistrate. [Somewhat puzzled.] Well, did he
help you to open the door, as he says? Did any one
help you to open the door?

Jack. No, sir — I don't think so, sir — I don't know.

Magistrate. You don't know? But you must
know. It isn't a usual thing for you to have the
door opened for you, is it?

Jack. [With a shamefaced smile.] No.

Magistrate. Very well, then

Jack. [Desperately.] The fact of the matter is,
sir, I 'm afraid I 'd had too much champagne that
night.

Magistrate. [Smiling.] Oh I you 'd had too
much champagne?

Jones. May I ask the gentleman a question?

Magistrate. Yes — yes — you may ask him what
questions you like.

Jones. Don't you remember you said you was a

ACT jii The Silver Box 75

Liberal, same as your father, and you asked me wot
I was?

Jack. [With his hand against his brow.] I seem to
remember

Jones. And I said to you, *'I 'm a bloomin' Con-
servsitive,'* I said; an' you said to me, "You look
more like one of these *ere Socialists. Take wotever
you like," you said.

Jack. [With sudden resolution.] No, I don't. I
don't remember anything of the sort.

Jones. Well, I do, an' my word 's as good as yours.
I 've never been had up in a police court before.
Look 'ere, don't you remember you had a sky-blue
bag in your 'and [Barthwick jumps.

Roper. I submit to your worship that these ques-
tions are hardly to the point, the prisoner having
admitted that he himself does not remember any-
thing. [There is a smile on the face of Justice.] It is a
case of the blind leading the blind.

Jones. [Violently.] I 've done no more than wot
he 'as. I 'm a poor man; I 've got no money an' no
friends — he 's a toff — he can do wot I can't.

Magistrate. Now, now! All this won't help you
— you must be quiet. You say you took this box?
Now, what made you take it? Were you pressed
for money?

Jones. I 'm always pressed for money.

Magistrate. Was that the reason you took
it?

Jones. No.

Magistrate. [To Snow.] Was anything found on
him?

Snow. Yes, your worship. There was six pounds
twelve shillin's found on him, and this purse.

76 The Silver Box act m

[The red silk purse is handed to the Magis-
trate. Barthwick rises in his seat, but
hastily sits down again. ]
Magistrate:. [Star^^Mg at the purse.] Yes, yes — -

let me see [There is a silence.] No, no, I 've

nothing before me as to the purse. How did you
come by all that money?

Jones. [After a long pause, suddenly.] I declines
to say.

Magistrate. But if you had all that money, what
made you take this box?

Jones. I took it out of spite.
Magistrate. [Hissing, with protruded neck.] You
took it out of spite? Well now, that 's something!
But do you imagine you can go about the town taking
things out of spite?

Jones. If you had my life, if you 'd been out of

work

Magistrate. Yes, yes; I know — because you're

out of work you think it 's an excuse for everything.

Jones. [Pointing at Jack.] You ask 'im wot

made 'im take the

Roper. [Quietly.] Does your Worship require this
witness in the box any longer?

Magistrate. [Ironically.] I think not; he is
hardly profitable.

[Jack leaves the witness-box, and hanging his
head, resumes his seat.]
Jones. You ask 'im wot made 'im take the

lady's

[But the Bald Constable catches him by the
sleeve.]
Bald Constable. Sssh!
Magistrate. [Emphatically.] Now listen to me.

ACT III The Silver Box 77

I 've nothing to do with what he may or may not
have taken. Why did you resist the police in the
execution of their duty?

Jones. It war n't their duty to take my wife, a
respectable woman, that 'ad n't done nothing.

Magistrate. But I say it was. What made you
strike the officer a blow?

Jones. Any man would a struck 'im a blow. I 'd
strike 'im again, I would.

Magistrate. You are not making your case any
better by violence. How do you suppose we could
get on if everybody behaved like you?

Jones. [Leaning forward, earnestly.] Well, wot
about 'er; who 's to make up to 'er for this? Who 's
to give 'er back 'er good name?

Mrs. Jones. Your Worship, it 's the children
that 's preying on his mind, because of course I 've
lost my work. And I 've had to find another room
owing to the scandal.

Magistrate. Yes, yes, I know — but if he had n't
acted like this nobody would have suffered.

Jones. [Glaring round at Jack.] I 've done no
worse than wot 'e 'as. Wot I want to know is wot 's
goin' to be done to 'im.

[The Bald Constable again says ''Hssh!'*

Roper. Mr. Barthwick wishes it known, your
Worship, that considering the poverty of the prison-
ers he does not press the charge as to the box. Per-
haps your Worship would deal with the case as one of
disorder.

Jones. I don't want it smothered up, I want it all
dealt with fair — I want my rights

Magistrate. [Rapping his desk.] Now you have
said all you have to say, and you will be quiet. "

78 The Silver Box act m

[There is a silence; the Magistrate bends
over and parleys with his Clerk.]
Yes, I think I may discharge the woman. ■ [In a
kindly voice he addresses Mrs. Jones, who stands un-
moving with her hands crossed on the rail] It is very-
unfortunate for you that this man has behaved as he
has. It is not the consequences to him but the
consequences to you. You have been brought here
twice, you have lost your work — [He glares at Jones]
and this is what always happens. Now you may go
away, and I am very sorry it was necessary to bring
you here at all.

Mrs. Jones. [Sojtly.] Thank you very much, your
Worship.

[She leaves the dock, and looking hack a/ Jones,
twists her fingers and is still]
Magistrate. Yes, yes, but I can't pass it over.
Go away, there 's a good woman.

[Mrs. Jones stands back. The Magistrate

leans his head on his hand: then raising it

he speaks to Jones.]

Now, listen to me. Do you wish the case to be

settled here, or do you wish it to go before a

jury?

Jones. [Muttering.] I don't want no jury.
Magistrate. Very well then, I will deal with it
here. [After a pause.] You have pleaded guilty to
stealing this box —

Jones. Not to stealin' —
Bald Constable. Hssshh!

Magistrate. And to assaulting the police

Jones. Any man as was a man

Magistrate. Your conduct here has been most
improper. You give the excuse that you were

ACT III The Silver Box 79

drunk when you stole the box. I tell you that is no
excuse. If you choose to get drunk and break the
law afterwards you must take the consequences.
And let me tell you that men like you, who get
drunk and give way to your spite or whatever
it is that 's in you, are — are — a nuisance to the
community.

Jack. [Leaning from his seat] Dad! that 's what
you said to me !
Barthwick. Tsst!

[There is a silence, while the Magistrate

consults his Clerk; Jones leans forward

waiting.]

Magistrate. This is your first offence, and I

am going to give you a light sentence. [Speaking

sharply, but without expression.] One month with

hard labour.

[He bends, and parleys with his Clerk. The

Bald Constable and another help Jones

from the dock.

Jones. [Stopping and twisting round.] Call this

justice? What about 'im? 'E got drunk! 'E took

the purse — 'e took the purse but [in a muffled shout]

it 's 'is money got 'im off — Justice !

[The prisoner's door is shut on Jones, and
from the seedy-looking men and women
comes a hoarse and whispering groan.]
Magistrate. We will now adjourn for lunch!
[He rises from his seat.]

[The Court is in a stir. Roper gets up
and speaks to the reporter. Jack,
throwing up his head, walks with a
swagger to the corridor; Barthwick
follows.

So The Silver Box act m

Mrs. Jones. [T timing to him with a humble gesture.']

Oh! sir!

[Barthwick hesitates, then yielding to his
nerves, he makes a shame-faced gesture of
refusal, and hurries out of court. Mrs.
Jones stands looking after him.]

The curtain falls.

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