The Mousetrap and Other Plays

ACT TWO

Scene I

SCENE: The Traveller’s Camp at Petra. Early afternoon, a week later. Fantastic scarlet rocks rise all round so that the stage has the appearance of an amphitheatre. On an upper level up Right there is a path, masked by rocks, giving access to a cave. An exit Right Centre leads to the sleeping tents. A slope of rock Left leads to the path out of the camp. Down Left is the entrance of a big marquee dining tent. A camp table and three chairs are set Left Centre, there is a camp armchair with a tea chest behind it down Left and a deckchair stands down Right. On the rock up Right, in front of the cave, are two camp stools.

When the Curtain rises, RAYMOND is seated in the deckchair down Right, lost in thought. MRS. BOYNTON is sitting on a stool outside the cave on the rock up Right, her stick by her side, reading. She looks like a monstrous idol in a niche. The DRAGOMAN is standing Centre, looking benevolent. LADY WESTHOLME, MISS PRYCE and GERARD enter from the marquee Left. LADY WESTHOLME picks up a “Baedeker” from the table Left Centre and crosses to Right Centre. MISS PRYCE stands Left Centre. GERARD moves down Left.

DRAGOMAN. You had nice luncheon? You rested after big expedition this morning?

MISS PRYCE. Yes, thank you. It was most interesting.

DRAGOMAN. I tell you all about Babatesh architecture. I tell you ancient history. Very interesting place, Petra. I show place high up there. Place of sacrifice.

LADY WESTHOLME. There is no need to hear it all over again. You were wrong on several points. I have just been checking up in Baedeker.

DRAGOMAN. No, no, lady. You not believe everything you read. You believe Aissa. Aissa educated Christian mission, learn speak truth. Everything I tell you truth and just like Holy Bible.

(SARAH enters from the marquee, sees RAYMOND, turns abruptly back and goes inside again.)

LADY WESTHOLME. You were educated at a mission?

DRAGOMAN. Yes, lady, American Mission.

LADY WESTHOLME. Oh, American!

DRAGOMAN. I learn poetry—very beautiful. (Rapidly, and with an indescribable intonation) “Hail-to-the-blysprut Birtoneverwort.”

GERARD. I beg your pardon?

DRAGOMAN. (Repeating) “Hailtotheblysprut Birtoneverwort.” (He beams.)

MISS PRYCE. (After a pause) I think it’s Shelley’s “Skylark.”

DRAGOMAN. (Beaming) That’s right, lady. Percy Bish Shelley. I know Willyam Wordwort, too. “I wonder lonely asaclout . . .”

GERARD. Assez, assez.

DRAGOMAN. I full of culture and higher education.

GERARD. Civilization has much to answer for.

LADY WESTHOLME. The thing, Mahommed, is not only to learn by heart, but to assimilate what you learn.

DRAGOMAN. You not call me Mahommed, lady. That Moslem name. You not like “Aissa,” you call me Abraham. Like Father Abraham, I got clean bosom, very snowy. (He opens his tunic.) Wear clean clothes every day.

GERARD. (To LADY WESTHOLME) Which was more than Abraham did, I expect.

DRAGOMAN. (Moving close to MISS PRYCE and displaying his chest) All clean like Abraham’s bosom.

MISS PRYCE. (Embarrassed) Oh, yes, yes, very nice, I’m sure.

DRAGOMAN. What you like to do this afternoon? Another expedition or you like rest? Most of my ladies and gentlemen like rest on day when have done big expedition to place of sacrifice.

MISS PRYCE. It certainly was rather tiring. Such a very steep climb. But perhaps . . . (She looks doubtfully at LADY WESTHOLME.)

LADY WESTHOLME. I never feel fatigue. But I don’t think another expedition. Perhaps a stroll later.

DRAGOMAN. You take nice walk-after-tea? I show you maiden hairyfern.

LADY WESTHOLME. Later. We’ll let you know.

DRAGOMAN. Very good. (He moves up Right.) When you want Abraham, you just call Abraham. I come.

(The DRAGOMAN exits up Right.)

MISS PRYCE. He’s really very obliging.

LADY WESTHOLME. He talks too much.

MISS PRYCE. I think, you know, that perhaps I shall lie down for a little. The sun is very hot.

LADY WESTHOLME. I shall go to my tent, but I shall not lie down. I shall write letters. (She moves Right.)

MISS PRYCE (Crossing to Right) You have such wonderful energy, dear Lady Westholme.

LADY WESTHOLME. It’s just a question of training.

(LADY WESTHOLME and MISS PRYCE exit Right. GERARD strolls to RAYMOND)

GERARD. You reflect very earnestly upon something.

RAYMOND. I was thinking about our journey down here, it was like coming down into an illustration of Hell. Winding through those narrow gorges, I kept saying to myself, “Down into the valley of death”—(He pauses) “the valley of death . . .”

GERARD. So that is how you felt? But it was not death you found at the end of your journey.

RAYMOND. (Natural again) No—it was a very pleasant camp, tents or caves to suit one’s fancy, a really excellent dinner.

GERARD. And friendly faces to greet you.

RAYMOND. Yes, I—I remembered seeing you at the King Solomon and Cope had mentioned you to us.

GERARD. I really meant Miss King. She you already knew, did you not?

RAYMOND. (Upset) Yes—yes, I suppose so. I wish she had come on the expedition this morning. She—she backed out very suddenly.

GERARD. (Moving Centre) Young ladies change their minds. But she missed much of interest and scenery.

(SARAH enters from the marquee. She carries a small metal case containing a hypodermic. RAYMOND rises and moves Right Centre.)

SARAH. Doctor Gerard—one of the Bedouin . . . (She pauses as RAYMOND moves towards them.)

GERARD. Yes?

SARAH. (Without looking at RAYMOND; brusquely) One of the guides is ill, acute malaria. Have you got any quinine with you? Stupidly, I seem to have left mine in Jerusalem. I’ve got my hypodermic here—(She indicates the case) if you want to give it intravenously.

GERARD. I have a small medicine case of drugs with me. I will get it.

(GERARD exits hurriedly Right. SARAH moves above the table and puts her case on it. RAYMOND is in a pitiable state of nervousness.)

RAYMOND. Sarah. (He pauses)

(SARAH ignores RAYMOND.)

(He crosses to Right of the table) You despise me, don’t you? I don’t wonder. I despise myself.

SARAH. I really don’t know what you are talking about.

RAYMOND. It was like a dream to arrive here—and find you. I thought at first you were a ghost—because I’d been thinking about you so much. (He moves to Right of her.) I love you. I want you to know that. It isn’t me—the real man—who—who behaved so badly that day at the King Solomon. I can’t answer for myself even now. (He nervously clasps and unclasps his hands.) It’s my nerves. I can’t depend on them. If she tells me to do things, I have to do them—I can’t help it. I know that I can never make you understand. It’s courage I need—courage. And I haven’t got it.

(GERARD enters Right, carrying his drug case. He pauses a moment and observes SARAH and RAYMOND. RAYMOND moves quickly away from SARAH, crosses and exits Right.)

GERARD. (Crossing to the table) I fear I interrupted something. (He puts his case on the table and opens it.)

SARAH. (Trying to be matter of fact) Nothing of any importance.

GERARD. Are you not being a little cruel to that young man?

SARAH. I can’t stand a man who’s tied to his mother’s apron strings.

GERARD. Oh, la, la, so that is the trouble. (He takes some quinine from his case and fills his own hypodermic syringe.) So you are, after all, just the English Miss. And you call yourself a budding psychologist? Do you not recognize a psychological problem when you see one?

SARAH. Do you mean that old woman? (She looks up towards MRS. BOYNTON.) She’s like some obscene Buddha—brooding over us all. Ugh! How they can all be devoted to her I can’t imagine. It’s thoroughly unhealthy. (She sits Left of the table.)

GERARD. You are wrong. They’re not devoted to her. And she—she is not devoted to them. You have not been yourself since you have arrived here or you would have noticed many things.

SARAH. Travelling with Lady Westholme and Miss Pryce gets on my nerves.

GERARD. (Moving to Right of the table) Naturally. Lady Westholme is exactly fitted to the life she leads and enjoys it immensely. Miss Pryce is realizing the dream of a lifetime in travelling abroad. Both of them have got what they want, whereas you have not got what you want.

SARAH. What do I want?

GERARD. You want that young man who has just gone away.

SARAH. Really, Doctor Gerard, nothing of the kind.

GERARD. English Miss.

SARAH. I’m not an English Miss. (She rises and moves down Left.)

GERARD. But it is what you are. (He moves to Right of her.) You will talk learnedly of sex problems and sex life—but when it comes to a flesh-and-blood young man, you protest and blush just like your great-grandmother would have done. But come, let us be colleagues. Admittedly that young man is completely dominated by his mother—she has what I cannot but consider a most unhealthy power over him. Do we rescue him or do we not?

SARAH. Can we?

GERARD. (Taking her hands for a moment) I think perhaps you can. Now—where is this man?

SARAH. Through the marquee. I’ll show you.

(SARAH and GERARD exit to the marquee. NADINE enters from the slope Left. She walks as though very tired. She moves to the table and looks at the open cases. The ARAB BOY enters Right, carrying a tray.)

BOY. (Crossing to the table) Good afternoon, ma’am.

NADINE. Hullo, Abdulla.

(The ARAB BOY collects the dirty glasses from the table, crosses and exits Right. NADINE picks the bottles out of GERARD’s case and puts them back, as though curious but only half aware of what she is doing. COPE strides on down the slope Left. NADINE starts and moves from the table.)

COPE. So there you are. (He crosses to Right Centre.) You’ve been running away from me, Nadine.

NADINE. What makes you think that?

COPE. Nadine, things can’t go on like this. I’ve got to talk to you.

NADINE. (Crossing to him) Oh, please, Jeff, please.

COPE. (Turning her to face him) No, listen. I’ve loved you for a long time. You know that. I want you to have some happiness in your life.

NADINE. Perhaps no one is happy.

COPE. That’s nonsense, dear, and you know it. You’ve been a loyal wife to Lennox—you’ve put up with an impossible life for his sake and you’ve never complained. But the time’s come when you’ve got to think of yourself. I’m not expecting romantic devotion from you—but you do like me a little, don’t you?

NADINE. I like you very much.

COPE. You’re not doing Lennox any good by staying with him. Divorce him and marry me.

(SARAH enters from the marquee.)

(He moves Right) We might take a walk later—when the sun isn’t so hot.

NADINE. Yes.

(COPE exits Right. SARAH looks at NADINE, then sits Left of the table.)

Miss King.

SARAH. Yes?

NADINE. May I say something to you?

SARAH. Why, of course.

NADINE. (Moving to Right of the table) I saw you talking to my brother-in-law just now.

SARAH. Really?

NADINE. Do help him if you can.

SARAH. What makes you think I can help him?

NADINE. If you can’t help him, nobody can.

SARAH. He could help himself if he liked.

NADINE. That’s where you’re wrong. We’re an odd family. He can’t.

SARAH. You’re a very devoted family—I know. Your mother-in-law told me so.

NADINE. No, we’re not. That’s the last thing we are.

(SARAH looks in surprise at NADINE.)

(She moves nearer to SARAH and lowers her voice.) Do you know what she—(she gestures towards MRS. BOYNTON) was before my father-in-law married her?

SARAH. What was she?

NADINE. She was a wardress in a prison. (She pauses.) My father-in-law was the governor. He was a widower with three young children, the youngest, Jinny, only six months old.

SARAH. (Looking at MRS. BOYNTON) Yes—I can see her as a wardress.

NADINE. It’s what she still is—Lennox and Raymond and Jinny have been the prisoners. They’ve never known what it is to live outside the prison walls.

SARAH. Not even now—here—abroad?

NADINE. Yes. She’s brought the prison walls with her. She’s never allowed them to make friends—to have outside contacts—to have any ideas or interests of their own. It’s all been done under the pretence of solicitude and devotion—but there’s no devotion.

SARAH. What is there, then?

NADINE. Something that frightens me—something cruel—something that rejoices and gloats in its own power . . .

(MRS. BOYNTON moves, puts down her book and peers forward.)

MRS. BOYNTON. (Calling) Nadine. Come and help me.

NADINE. (To SARAH; urgently) I didn’t understand when I married Lennox—I left things too late. I think he’s beyond help. But it’s different with Raymond. You could fight.

MRS. BOYNTON. (Calling) Nadine.

NADINE. Coming, Mother. (She goes up on the rock to MRS. BOYNTON)

(The ARAB BOY enters from the marquee.)

BOY. (To SARAH) Selun, he very bad. You come, Miss Doctor.

SARAH. (Rising) Very well.

(SARAH and the ARAB BOY exit to the marquee. RAYMOND enters Right and crosses to the table. He picks up a bottle that NADINE has left out of the case, at first casually, then with suddenly awakened attention. He stares down at it. NADINE helps MRS. BOYNTON to rise.)

RAYMOND. (Looking at the case) Doctor Gerard’s. (He moves a step or two forward from the table, intent on the bottle in his hand.)

(MRS. BOYNTON and NADINE move down Centre.)

MRS. BOYNTON. I think I’ll sit here for a bit.

(RAYMOND, startled, drops the bottle and turns.)

(She indicates the chair Right of the table.) There.

NADINE. Won’t it be too hot for you in the sun?

MRS. BOYNTON. I don’t mind the sun. It’s really hotter up there among the rocks because of the refraction. This will do very well. (She sits Right of the table. To RAYMOND) I saw you talking to that girl, son.

RAYMOND. (Frightened) I— . . . (With an effort) Yes, I did speak to her. Why not?

MRS. BOYNTON. Why not, indeed. After all, you’re young. You’d better go for a walk this afternoon.

RAYMOND. Go—for a walk? You—you want me to?

MRS. BOYNTON. Young people must enjoy themselves.

NADINE. Cat and mouse.

MRS. BOYNTON. That’s an odd thing to say, Nadine.

NADINE. Is it?

MRS. BOYNTON. (To RAYMOND) Your friend went that way. (She points with her stick to the marquee.)

(RAYMOND exits doubtfully to the marquee. NADINE looks at MRS. BOYNTON.)

(She chuckles quietly) Yes, young people must enjoy themselves—in their own way.

NADINE. (Crossing above MRS. BOYNTON and standing above the table) And old people in theirs.

MRS. BOYNTON. Now what do you mean by that, my dear?

NADINE. Just—cat and mouse.

MRS. BOYNTON. Very cryptic. You ought to go for a walk, Nadine, with that nice friend of yours—Mr. Cope.

NADINE. I suppose you saw us talking, too?

MRS. BOYNTON. Yes. He’s very fond of you.

NADINE. (Moving Left of the table) I know.

MRS. BOYNTON. I’m afraid you don’t get as much fun as you ought to get. It’s a very dull life waiting on a sick old woman—and Lennox—he’s changed a lot—yes, he’s changed.

NADINE. (Moving down Left) He is not very happy.

MRS. BOYNTON. He ought to be—married to a charming and good-looking girl like you. I’m afraid sometimes he doesn’t appreciate you as much as he ought to do.

NADINE. You think Jefferson Cope appreciates me better?

MRS. BOYNTON. I think he’s very much in love with you.

NADINE. And you want me to go away with him and leave Lennox—why?

MRS. BOYNTON. (Smoothly; with faint malicious amusement) Really, Nadine, what words you put into my mouth—I’ve said nothing of the kind.

NADINE. It’s what you mean, though. (Slowly) It was one of your reasons for coming here.

MRS. BOYNTON. You are talking very extravagantly, Nadine dear. Naturally I want you to be happy—but of course I am not urging you to leave your husband. That would be a very wrong thing to do.

(NADINE stares at MRS. BOYNTON in silence for a moment or two.)

NADINE. (Moving up Left of the table) Why do you hate us all so much?

MRS. BOYNTON. (Amused) Really, my dear child!

NADINE. (Still staring at her) You like hurting people—don’t you? You like the sense of power. I’ve thought sometimes that it came from your having been a wardress—but I think I see further than that—it was what made you become a wardress.

(MRS. BOYNTON smiles gently.)

There are a lot of people who can’t stand that job—but you—(She slows down, dropping truth after truth as she stares at MRS. BOYNTON) liked it. When you married, you missed it—but you found consolation in the children—three helpless children. You started on them.

MRS. BOYNTON. Dear me, what an imagination you have got, Nadine dear.

NADINE. You’ve never been physically cruel. It’s been a mental sport. You’ve thwarted and tortured Jinny until she’s gone nearly over the edge. You know only too well what you’ve done to Lennox—I can’t reach him any more. He doesn’t give you much sport nowadays, does he? But Raymond does. Raymond’s still able to rebel. You can have some fun with Raymond, can’t you?

MRS. BOYNTON. Such curious ideas you have, Nadine, haven’t you?

NADINE. That’s why you came abroad. You were bored, weren’t you? You’d tamed your wild beasts. You’d got them jumping through hoops just as you told them to. It was dull for you. So you brought them abroad—hoping they would rebel—hoping they’d suffer and that you’d have some fresh fun hurting them, seeing them writhe and squirm. (Sharply) Haven’t you any pity?

MRS. BOYNTON. (Turning an impassive face to her) I don’t know what you mean.

NADINE. (Crossing above the table to Right Centre) Why do you like hurting people? It seems so senseless.

MRS. BOYNTON. (In a thick voice) Does it?

NADINE. So it’s true—you are like that.

MRS. BOYNTON. (With infinite scorn) You little fool.

NADINE. (Turning on her) It’s you who are the fool. Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that what you’re doing is dangerous?

MRS. BOYNTON. Dangerous?

NADINE. Yes, dangerous. You can drive people too far.

MRS. BOYNTON. I’m not afraid.

NADINE. You might—die.

MRS. BOYNTON. I’m not going to die for a long time to come, Nadine dear. I may not have good health, but I’ve great powers of enjoyment—(She chuckles grimly) great powers of enjoyment.

NADINE. I think you’re mad.

MRS. BOYNTON. Not in the legal sense, my dear.

(GINEVRA enters Right and stands listening.)

You won’t be able to get me certified. (She looks at NADINE and laughs.) There’s someone else who’s likely to be certified before me.

NADINE. (Catching her breath) You mean—Jinny?

MRS. BOYNTON. (Smoothly) Poor child.

(GINEVRA runs off Right.)

NADINE. Doctor Gerard is very interested in Jinny’s case.

MRS. BOYNTON. (Almost with a snarl) It’s nothing to do with him.

NADINE. He assures me that with treatment Jinny would become perfectly normal. I think we ought to get his advice.

MRS. BOYNTON. Jinny is under age—and what you think or don’t think, Nadine, doesn’t matter. I’m the one who decides.

NADINE. Yes—we’re all in your power—but if Jinny gets worse . . .

MRS. BOYNTON. If Jinny gets violent—(Smoothly) she will have, of course, to be restrained.

NADINE. Certified. Shut up. (She shivers) That’s what you want to happen. I’m beginning to understand you—at last.

MRS. BOYNTON. My poor dear admirable daughter-in-law. And you don’t know what to do about it.

NADINE. (In a low voice) Perhaps I do.

MRS. BOYNTON. Still going to remain devoted to Lennox however little he notices the fact? Jefferson Cope won’t wait for ever, you know.

NADINE. (Crossing below the table to Left) As long as Lennox wants me I shall stay with him.

MRS. BOYNTON. Does Lennox want you very much?

(NADINE winces.)

You must face facts, you know.

NADINE. What will you do if Raymond—escapes? (She turns to her.)

MRS. BOYNTON. I can manage Raymond.

NADINE. Perhaps you won’t be able to manage Sarah King. You may find that she’s stronger than you are.

MRS. BOYNTON. She’s a fool!

NADINE. Not Sarah.

MRS. BOYNTON. Have you been asking Lennox to go away with you lately? You haven’t had much success with that idea of yours, have you?

(NADINE turns away.)

Dear Lennox. He’s always been such an obedient, devoted son. (She laughs.)

(COPE enters Right.)

COPE. (Moving Right Centre) You sound in good spirits, Mrs. Boynton. That’s fine. I was afraid, you know, that the journey here might knock you up completely.

MRS. BOYNTON. I’m enjoying myself here. I’m enjoying myself a good deal.

COPE. It’s a wonderful place, it certainly is. (To NADINE) Are we going to have our walk? (He looks at MRS. BOYNTON) But perhaps . . .

MRS. BOYNTON. Oh, don’t mind leaving me. Nadine didn’t go on the expedition this morning. She ought to have a little exercise.

COPE. You’re always so considerate, Mrs. Boynton. (To NADINE) Shall we start? (He crosses to the slope Left.)

MRS. BOYNTON. (To NADINE) Just give me my medicine first, dear.

(NADINE exits to the marquee.)

MRS. BOYNTON. A tired heart, you know. A tired heart. It has to be constantly stimulated. Never any good making a fuss. One must think of others—not oneself.

(NADINE enters from the marquee, carrying a glass of medicine.)

NADINE (Moving to MRS. BOYNTON) Here it is.

(MRS. BOYNTON takes the glass and drinks the medicine.)

MRS. BOYNTON. Isn’t it rather stronger than usual? (She puts the glass on the table.)

NADINE. I don’t think so.

COPE. Shall we go now?

NADINE. (Moving to the slope Left) Yes, we’ll go now.

(COPE exits up the slope.)

(She goes up the slope a few steps, then stops.) Good-bye, Mother.

MRS. BOYNTON. Good-bye.

(NADINE exits up the slope. MRS. BOYNTON chuckles a little as she is left to herself. She examines the contents of GERARD’s case, takes out a bottle or two and looks at them. LENNOX enters Right and crosses towards the marquee. He has a book in his hand but walks like one in a dream.)

Lennox.

(LENNOX does not hear.)

(Louder) Lennox. Come here.

(LENNOX moves to Right of MRS. BOYNTON.)

What have you been doing, son?

(LENNOX acts throughout as though it took a long time for words to reach him.)

LENNOX. I’ve been reading.

MRS. BOYNTON. What have you been reading?

LENNOX. I can’t remember. Was Nadine here?

MRS. BOYNTON. Yes, she’s gone for a walk with Mr. Cope.

LENNOX. Oh.

(MRS. BOYNTON looks at LENNOX for a moment or two.)

MRS. BOYNTON. Has it ever occurred to you that your wife’s in love with Jefferson Cope?

LENNOX. (Rather quicker) Nadine—in love with Cope?

MRS. BOYNTON. He’s certainly in love with her. I think you ought to be prepared, son, for the possibility that Nadine might—leave you.

LENNOX. Leave me—Nadine?

MRS. BOYNTON. He’s a very charming man, you know, and they’ve always been great friends—and it’s been a dull life for Nadine. I’m afraid you haven’t been able to be much of a companion to her.

LENNOX. Nadine. I—I couldn’t live without Nadine. (He crosses down Left.)

MRS. BOYNTON. I’m afraid you may have to live without her—whether you want to or not.

LENNOX. She said she might go . . . (He breaks off.) She asked me . . . What did she ask me?

MRS. BOYNTON. How should I know?

LENNOX. I couldn’t do it, though, could I? I mean—where should I go? How should I live?

MRS. BOYNTON. I’m afraid you could never support yourself, my poor boy.

(LENNOX moves to Left of the table. His manner is now definitely odd.)

LENNOX. It’s you who are stopping me, isn’t it? Can’t you let me go? Please let me go.

MRS. BOYNTON. You can’t go. (She watches him closely.) You can’t go, Lennox. You’re no good. I’m afraid you’re going to be very unhappy.

LENNOX. (Muttering) Unhappy. (He sits Left of the table, his foot stepping on the bottle dropped by RAYMOND.)

MRS. BOYNTON. Pick that up.

(LENNOX picks up the bottle and stares at it.)

It will be very quiet without Nadine—very quiet and very lonely.

LENNOX. There’s something I could do—if I could only remember. (He rises and looks at the bottle.) Something quite easy. (He looks suddenly at MRS. BOYNTON.) Are you my enemy?

MRS. BOYNTON. What a very odd thing to say, dear boy.

(Voices are heard off Right.)

Give me that bottle, it belongs in here.

(LENNOX hands the bottle to MRS. BOYNTON, then exits to the marquee. MRS. BOYNTON looks at the bottle and puts it on the table. HIGGS enters Right. MISS PRYCE follows him on, catches her scarf on something and is held.)

MISS PRYCE. Oh dear.

HIGGS. Are ye fast? I mean, are yer stuck? (He moves to MISS PRYCE and detaches her.)

MISS PRYCE. Thank you so much. I’m quite loose now. (She moves Right Centre.)

(LADY WESTHOLME enters Right.)

LADY WESTHOLME. Now where is Mahommed? (She crosses to the marquee.) That man is never about when one wants him.

(LADY WESTHOLME exits to the marquee.)

HIGGS. (Crossing to Centre) What is that lad’s name? Mahommed or Abraham?

MISS PRYCE. Lady Westholme says she always calls her dragoman Mahommed.

HIGGS. What, even when it isn’t ’is name?

MISS PRYCE. Apparently.

HIGGS. Well! I wonder they stand for it. Ah wouldn’t.

MISS PRYCE. But then you’re such a masterful man, Mr. Higgs.

HIGGS. Ay. Ah know my rights and I stands oop for ’em.

MISS PRYCE. I can see that.

HIGGS. And them as doan’t is neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red ’errin’.

MISS PRYCE. And he’s such a nice man—and so clean. (Confidentially) He changes his shirt every day.

HIGGS. ’E needs to in this climate. Eh, I wasn’t ’alf in a muck sweat meself this morning.

MISS PRYCE. (Reprovingly) Mr. Higgs!

HIGGS. Ah doan’t ’old much with foreigners. I shared a cabin with one comin’ over and one mornin’ I caught ’im usin’ my toothbrush.

MISS PRYCE. How revolting.

HIGGS. And d’yer know what ’e said? He said, “Ah thought it was a ship’s toothbrush—for us all like.” (He laughs uproariously.)

(MISS PRYCE winces.)

LADY WESTHOLME. (Off; calling) Mahommed.

HIGGS. (Calling) P’raps ’e’s oop on second floor, Lady Breastbone.

(LADY WESTHOLME appears at the entrance to the marquee.)

LADY WESTHOLME. (Furiously) What did you say, Mr. Higgs?

HIGGS. Ah said p’raps ’e’s oop on second floor, Lady Fishbone.

LADY WESTHOLME. You may find out to your cost, my good man, that my name is Westholme.

HIGGS. Ay. An’ ’is isn’t Mahommed.

(LADY WESTHOLME flounces back into the marquee and is heard again calling defiantly.)

LADY WESTHOLME. (Off; calling) Ma-hom-med.

HIGGS. (Chuckling) Eh! That’s a grand voice for electioneering. She wouldn’t need loudspeaker van.

MISS PRYCE. You know, I think all the servants must be asleep.

LADY WESTHOLME. (Off; calling) Mahommed.

HIGGS. (Chuckling) Not after that.

MISS PRYCE. (Getting confidential again) I do hope we’re safe here. Those servants look so wild and fierce. Suppose they were to murder us all one night.

HIGGS. Ah could understand ’em murderin’ ’er ladyship—but what ’ave we done?

MISS PRYCE. They might rob us.

HIGGS. Well, they’re doin’ that already without murderin’ us. (With maliciously assumed apprehension) Of course, they could kidnap us and ’old us to ransom.

(The DRAGOMAN enters quietly Right.)

MISS PRYCE. Kidnap us! How dreadful.

DRAGOMAN. (Moving suddenly between MISS PRYCE and HIGGS; with a beaming smile) You ready go nice walk, ladies and gentlemen?

MISS PRYCE. (Startled) Oh!

LADY WESTHOLME. (Off; calling) Mahommed.

(LADY WESTHOLME enters from the marquee.)

There you are. (She moves below the table.) Didn’t you hear me calling?

DRAGOMAN. Abraham hear someone call Mahommed.

HIGGS. (Moving Left Centre; to LADY WESTHOLME) And ’e put ’is telescope to ’is blind ear.

(SARAH and RAYMOND enter Right and stand down Right. LADY WESTHOLME ignores HIGGS and crosses below him to Centre.)

LADY WESTHOLME. And where are all the servants?

DRAGOMAN. (Moving to Right of LADY WESTHOLME) Bedouin all sleep now. Later wake up, make dinner. But Abraham Christian. Abraham understand Christian ladies and gentlemen like afternoon instructive walk and then drink afternoon tea. You come now?

HIGGS. Ay, we’re coomin’. Coom on, ladies, and be kidnapped.

MISS PRYCE. Mr. Higgs. Don’t say such dreadful things.

LADY WESTHOLME. (Crossing to Right) If you intend to accompany us, Mr. Higgs, I trust that you will curb your facetiousness and allow those better educated than yourself to enjoy the archaeological and historical interests of this place.

(LADY WESTHOLME stalks out Right. MISS PRYCE follows her off. HIGGS stands for a moment, nonplussed, scratching his head. He can think of no riposte. He chuckles and shakes his head.)

HIGGS. Nay—she got me that time.

(HIGGS exits Right. The DRAGOMAN follows him off.)

SARAH. What a circus! Oof! I want a drink. (To RAYMOND) Do you think you can find one?

(RAYMOND crosses and exits to the marquee. There is a silence during which SARAH crosses to Right of MRS. BOYNTON.)

This really is a fantastic place.

(MRS. BOYNTON does not answer.)

(She looks at MRS. BOYNTON, smiles and shrugs her shoulders.) Your son and I have had a very pleasant walk.

(MRS. BOYNTON taps with her stick and does not answer. RAYMOND enters from the marquee carrying a glass of lime juice, which he hands to SARAH.)

Thank you.

(SARAH crosses and exits with the drink Right. RAYMOND moves a step or two after her.)

MRS. BOYNTON. Ray, my dear, it won’t do.

RAYMOND. (Stopping Centre and turning) What won’t do?

MRS. BOYNTON. That girl. I encouraged you to go for a walk with her this afternoon against my better judgement—but I don’t like her. I don’t like the way she runs after you. I should just be barely civil to her and nothing more in future, if I were you.

RAYMOND. That’s impossible.

MRS. BOYNTON. Oh, no, Raymond. You’ll do what I say.

RAYMOND. (Moving Right Centre) I tell you it’s impossible. Sarah and I are friends.

MRS. BOYNTON. (Moving a little and fixing him with her eye) You won’t be friends if I don’t want you to be.

RAYMOND. But I shall—I must.

MRS. BOYNTON. You won’t be friends if I don’t want you to be.

RAYMOND. (Crossing down Left) You—you can’t make me do things like that.

MRS. BOYNTON. Nonsense! You’ve always done what I wanted. (Firmly) You always will. You can’t help yourself.

RAYMOND. But Sarah—it’s different . . .

MRS. BOYNTON. It isn’t different, son. You’ve got to give up Sarah.

RAYMOND. No.

MRS. BOYNTON. You are going to give up Sarah.

RAYMOND. (Moving to Left of the table; his voice high and hysterical) No—no—I won’t do it.

MRS. BOYNTON. I always know what’s best for you. (Forcefully) You’ll keep out of her way in future.

RAYMOND. No. I . . .

MRS. BOYNTON. You’ll keep out of her way. You’ll be rude to her.

RAYMOND. No . . .

MRS. BOYNTON. (With force) You’ll do what I want.

RAYMOND. I—I . . .

MRS. BOYNTON. You’ll do what I tell you.

RAYMOND. (After a pause; dully) Yes. Yes, I suppose so. (He sits Left of the table.)

(SARAH enters Right.)

MRS. BOYNTON. You’ll avoid Sarah King.

RAYMOND. I’ll avoid Sarah King.

MRS. BOYNTON. So that’s settled. You understand? You’re giving up Sarah King.

RAYMOND. I’m giving up Sarah King. (He buries his face in his hands.)

SARAH. (Crossing and standing above the table) Extraordinarily interesting. I’m glad I heard it. Cheer up, Ray—I’m not giving you up.

MRS. BOYNTON. Tell her to go away.

RAYMOND. I . . . Please go away.

SARAH. I’m not going.

MRS. BOYNTON. Tell her to leave you alone.

RAYMOND. I . . . You’d better—leave me alone.

SARAH. Your mother and I are going to have a talk.

RAYMOND. I . . . (He looks at MRS. BOYNTON.)

MRS. BOYNTON. Go away, Raymond.

SARAH. Yes, please go away, Ray.

(RAYMOND rises and exits slowly to the marquee. SARAH and MRS. BOYNTON look at each other.)

What an extraordinary futile and silly old woman you are.

(MRS. BOYNTON quivers.)

Yes, you didn’t expect that. But it’s true. (She moves to Left of the table.) You like to make yourself out a kind of ogre. Really, you’re ludicrous—almost pathetic. Why don’t you give up this silly sadistic business?

MRS. BOYNTON. How dare you speak to me like that?

SARAH. It’s time someone did. It’s time someone showed you what you really are. You’ve wanted to feel powerful, haven’t you—you’ve enjoyed hurting and torturing people? It’s made you feel grand and important. But you’re only a petty little domestic tyrant. You’ve acquired a certain amount of hypnotic influence over your family. But the influence can be broken.

MRS. BOYNTON. Who’s going to break it?

SARAH. I am.

MRS. BOYNTON. You think you’ll get Raymond, do you? I know the sort of girl you are—man mad. Pretending to be professional and all the time running after some man or other.

SARAH. (Sitting Left of the table, calmly) Saying things like that won’t upset me. I’m going to fight you, Mrs. Boynton.

MRS. BOYNTON. You’ll lose.

SARAH. No, I shall win.

MRS. BOYNTON. You little fool. I’ve got Raymond—I’ve got all of them, like that. (She makes a gesture with her thumb.)

(LENNOX enters Right and sits in the deckchair down Right.)

SARAH. You really are quite incredible—like something in a medical textbook. I shall win all right. I’ve two strong weapons on my side.

MRS. BOYNTON. And what are they?

SARAH. Youth and sex.

MRS. BOYNTON. Aren’t you ashamed to say a thing like that?

SARAH. I love Raymond. I’ll fight for him with every weapon I’ve got.

MRS. BOYNTON. I’m stronger than you are. I’ve experience behind me—years of experience. (With force) I can do things to people’s minds.

SARAH. Yes, you’ve got knowledge—a lot of evil knowledge. But you haven’t got—very long to use it.

MRS. BOYNTON. What do you mean?

SARAH. There’s something else on my side—time. (She rises.)

MRS. BOYNTON. Time?

SARAH. I’m a doctor and I know what I’m talking about. (Slowly) You haven’t got long to live. I give you—at the most—six months.

MRS. BOYNTON. (Badly shaken) Six months? Rubbish!

SARAH. Ask Doctor Gerard if you don’t believe me.

MRS. BOYNTON. (Stricken) Six months . . .

SARAH. It’s the truth. You’ve got an appointment—an appointment you’ll have to keep—an appointment with death. When you’re dead, your family will be free. So you see, death’s on my side, as well as life.

MRS. BOYNTON. (Convulsed with rage) Get out of my sight. Go away.

SARAH. Can’t you stop hating? It’s not too late for that.

MRS. BOYNTON. Get out! Get out! Get out! (She strikes the table with her stick.)

(SARAH looks at MRS. BOYNTON, shakes her head, shrugs her shoulders and exits to the marquee. COPE and NADINE enter down the slope Left, COPE leading.)

NADINE. (As she enters) It’s too hot to walk far. (She moves down Left.)

(COPE moves to the marquee entrance. MRS. BOYNTON says nothing. She sits glaring in front of her and shaking with rage.)

LENNOX. Nadine.

NADINE. Yes? (She signs to COPE to go.)

(COPE exits to the marquee.)

LENNOX. (Rising) Nadine.

(NADINE crosses to LENNOX. MRS. BOYNTON fumbles with the bottles on the table.)

Is it true—that you’re going away with Cope?

NADINE. Yes.

(NADINE looks at LENNOX, then turns, crosses and exits to the marquee. There is a pause. The ARAB BOY enters from the marquee. He carries a tray with a cup and saucer on it.)

BOY. (Moving to MRS. BOYNTON) I bring you tea, lady, tea.

(MRS. BOYNTON strikes the table with her stick.)

(He squeals, drops the tray on the ground and runs to the marquee entrance.) Allah Kerim! Very bad devil. Very bad devil . . .

(The ARAB BOY runs into the marquee. RAYMOND enters from the marquee, looks at MRS. BOYNTON then crosses to LENNOX.)

LENNOX. (Quietly) That’s it. One of us has got to kill her.

(RAYMOND stares at LENNOX, then crosses to MRS. BOYNTON, who rises. RAYMOND helps her up on the rock up Right and settles her on the stool outside the cave. LENNOX stares out front. RAYMOND comes down and stands slightly behind LENNOX.)

RAYMOND. What did you say?

CURTAIN

Scene II

Scene: The same. Three hours later.

When the Curtain rises, it is just before sunset. MRS. BOYNTON is seated at the mouth of the cave up Right, but the cave is now in very deep shadow. GINEVRA enters cautiously from the marquee, hears voices off Right and slips back again. The DRAGOMAN, HIGGS and LADY WESTHOLME trail in Right in single file. They are tired, hot and cross. HIGGS crosses and collapses into the chair Left of the table. LADY WESTHOLME crosses and sits in the chair Right of the table. The DRAGOMAN stands Centre.

HIGGS. (Mopping his brow) Well, I reckon we’ve earned our supper. Ah reckon Miss Pryce knew what she was about, turning back wi’ headache. I’m fagged out, I am.

LADY WESTHOLME. I never feel fatigue.

HIGGS. I see—you’re as strong as a horse.

DRAGOMAN. Yes. You very strong lady. You walk up, down over—you just like goat.

LADY WESTHOLME. (Indignantly) Mahommed!

HIGGS. (Laughing) Aye, that’s it, Abraham, like a goat.

(LADY WESTHOLME freezes, and if looks could kill . . . )

(He mops his brow) Eh, but I’m in muck sweat.

LADY WESTHOLME. (At last finding her tongue again) Your sense of humour, Mr. Higgs, is only equalled by your choice of epithet. “Muck sweat” is applied to horses.

HIGGS. Now I come to think of it, you look more like a horse than a goat. (To the DRAGOMAN) Bring a big bottle of beer along to my tent, Abraham—aye, and take the same along to ’er ladyship, and charge it oop ter me. That’ll show there’s no ill feeling.

LADY WESTHOLME. Thank you—but I prefer a pot of tea.

DRAGOMAN. Too late make tea, lady. Supper now.

LADY WESTHOLME. Nonsense, there must be a kettle on the boil.

DRAGOMAN. No, lady, kettle him not boil now.

HIGGS. (Rising) That’s the best o’ beer, yer doan’t ’ave ter boil it. Yer know, I doan’t reckon much to this afternoon—why, we didn’t see nowt.

DRAGOMAN. (Crossing to HIGGS) oh, yes, please. You see maiden hairyfern, all hang down.

HIGGS. Well, ah can see that hanging oop in me green-’ouse at ’ome. Ah doan’t want to come abroad to ’eathen parts to see it ’angin’ down.

DRAGOMAN. Very good, I get beer.

(The DRAGOMAN crosses and exits to the marquee. HIGGS crosses to Right Centre.)

HIGGS. (Looking up at MRS. BOYNTON) And I see we’ve got our ’eathen idol with us still. Sitting oop there for all the world like summat out of Old Testament. Moloch, was it, as they used to sacrifice children to? How their parents fell for it beats me. Ee, they moost ’ave been daft.

LADY WESTHOLME. It was an age of crude superstition. Nowadays . . .

HIGGS. Nowadays there’s still sacrifices going on. I’ve kept my eyes open since I’ve been ’ere, and I tell you my ’eart bleeds for those kids of ’ers. That old image up there sees to it they’re sacrificed all right. She’s what them psycho-whatnots call a bluddy sadist.

LADY WESTHOLME. (Rising) Mr. Higgs—oh!

(LADY WESTHOLME, limping from a blistered foot, crosses and exits Right.)

HIGGS. (Sniffing) Ee, there’s a champion smell of animal sacrifice. Now let’s ’ope it won’t be a burnt offerin’.

(HIGGS exits Right. GINEVRA enters cautiously from the marquee, and moves up Centre. She has a long sharp knife in her hand. She is taken unawares by hearing GERARD’s voice off. She moves quickly to the table, conceals the knife under GERARD’s medical case, then picks up SARAH’s hypodermic case as though that had been her business at the table. GERARD enters from the marquee. GINEVRA moves quickly Centre.)

GERARD. (Noting her confusion) What have you got there? (He crosses to Left of GINEVRA.)

GINEVRA. Nothing.

GERARD. Give that to me. (He takes the case from her and opens it.) What have you done with the hypodermic?

GINEVRA. I don’t know. I haven’t touched it.

(GERARD frowns, moves to the table, puts SARAH’s case on it, then moves his own case preparatory to opening it and discovers the knife.)

GERARD. (Picking up the knife) Aha! (He moves down Right of the table.)

(GINEVRA springs forward and tries to take the knife from him.)

What is this?

GINEVRA. Give it me. I must have it.

GERARD. Where did you get it from?

GINEVRA. (Pointing to the marquee) From in there. I want it—to defend myself—against them.

GERARD. (Listen, mon enfant, you must give up all this make-believe. (He puts the knife on the table.)

GINEVRA. You say that—but you know that it’s true. (She moves close to him.) You followed me here, didn’t you? From Jerusalem. You’re here to protect me. I know you are.

GERARD. (Taking her hands) Listen, Ginevra, I want to help you . . .

GINEVRA. I knew—I knew. (Sweetly) You’re in love with me, aren’t you?

GERARD. I’m nearly old enough to be your father.

GINEVRA. But I like you very much. (She smiles at him.) Doctor Gerard, I don’t want to die. (Angrily) You must believe me—you must. (Confidentially) Listen, yesterday, they put poison in my food.

GERARD. (Firmly) No, your food was quite all right.

GINEVRA. You—you do know that I don’t really belong to them? You know that that’s true. You can see, can’t you, that I’m different?

GERARD. We would all like to be different.

GINEVRA. I can’t tell you who I am. I promised. (Grandly) My lips are sealed.

GERARD. (Firmly) You are Ginevra Boynton.

GINEVRA. I hate you. I hate you. (She crosses to the chair Right of the table, sits and cries.)

GERARD. (Moving behind her) Don’t you understand, Ginevra, that what you are doing is dangerous? The way of escape you have found for yourself is no real escape. You must face reality, not lose yourself in a world of fantasy.

GINEVRA. I thought you would help me to escape.

GERARD. That is what I want to do. (He moves to Left of the table.)

GINEVRA. You will take me away with you—to France—to Paris?

GERARD. I would like to take you to France. (He sits Left of the table.)

GINEVRA. You have a house there?

(GERARD nods.)

A castle?

GERARD. (With a smile) No, a clinic.

GINEVRA. (Doubtfully) Oh. (With curiosity) Should I like it there?

GERARD. Yes, you would do real things with your mind—and the unreal things would not be interesting any more.

GINEVRA. Real things. You wouldn’t tell me that I am ill all the time?

GERARD. No, for you are not ill.

GINEVRA. (With a gesture towards MRS. BOYNTON) She says I am ill. She—she wants me to be ill—she makes me ill. She says—she says—they are going to shut me up—(Her voice rises) to shut me up. (She rises and moves Right.)

GERARD. (Rising and moving above the table to Centre.) No, no, you must be calm.

GINEVRA. I want to come with you.

GERARD. I know.

GINEVRA. Why can’t I? Because she won’t let me go?

GERARD. For the moment, that is true.

GINEVRA. She won’t let me go.

(GERARD moves to GINEVRA and puts a hand on her shoulder.)

GERARD. You must hold on, Jinny—hold on. Do you understand? It is just a question of waiting—perhaps not waiting very long.

GINEVRA. (Drawing away; emphatically) When she is dead, I can go. That is what you mean, isn’t it? When she is dead. When she is dead we can all go.

GERARD. Don’t talk like that.

GINEVRA. Why not? (She crosses to Left.) They did.

GERARD. Who did?

(GINEVRA looks at him sideways and laughs.)

GINEVRA. I heard them. They didn’t know I was there. They said that she’d got to be killed—that it was the only way.

GERARD. (Crossing to her) Who said that? (He takes both her hands in his.)

GINEVRA. They said one of us would have to do it—for the sake of the others.

GERARD. Who said so?

GINEVRA. Lennox and Raymond.

GERARD. You’re inventing again.

GINEVRA. No, this is really true.

GERARD. So you admit the other isn’t?

GINEVRA. (Angrily) I hate you. Let me go. Let me go.

(GINEVRA twists away from him, runs across and exits Right. NADINE enters Right as GINEVRA exits.)

NADINE. (Crossing to Centre) What’s the matter with Jinny?

(GERARD picks up the knife and shows it to NADINE.)

What’s that? A knife. That’s bad—that’s very bad.

GERARD. Yes, the case grows serious. (He puts the knife on the table.)

NADINE. (Moving Left Centre) But it’s not too late. She could have treatment.

GERARD. Yes, there is still time, but you understand—not much.

NADINE. (Crossing down Left) Do you believe in the Devil, Doctor Gerard?

GERARD. You mean, do I believe in Evil, positive Evil? Yes, I do.

NADINE. So do I.

(GERARD and NADINE look up at MRS. BOYNTON.)

GERARD. And we can do nothing.

NADINE. Don’t be too sure of that.

(COPE enters Right and crosses to Centre. He looks radiant.)

COPE. Must be nearly supper time.

GERARD. Yes, I must go and wash. (He picks up his case of drugs and crosses to Right.)

COPE. It seems almost chilly after the heat of the afternoon.

GERARD. Yes, there is a sharp fall of temperature at sunset.

(GERARD exits Right.)

COPE. (Crossing to NADINE) Hadn’t I better get you a wrap, Nadine?

NADINE. No, thank you, it will be hot in the marquee. Jeff, I was just—talking about Jinny to Doctor Gerard.

COPE. (His face becoming worried) Oh—Jinny. I was talking to Doctor Gerard yesterday, and he was quite confident that by treatment in his sanatorium he could effect a perfect cure. It’s a well-known place and bears the highest reputation. I said as much to Mrs. Boynton.

NADINE. So you talked to her about it. What did she say?

COPE. She said a mother’s care was worth all the newfangled doctors’ cures put together.

NADINE. (Crossing to Right Centre) She isn’t Jinny’s mother.

COPE. Why, no, that’s true. (He moves Left Centre) But I know she’s only anxious for Jinny’s good.

NADINE. (Impatiently yet tenderly) Oh, Jeff—the worst of a nice person like you—you’re so—so trusting.

COPE. I trust in you.

NADINE. Don’t.

COPE. You haven’t—changed your mind?

NADINE. (Moving to him) Why should you think I have? What’s the good of staying with Lennox? I must start a new life—with you. (She gives him her hand.)

COPE. It shall be a happy life, I promise you.

NADINE. Can anybody promise that?

(RAYMOND enters Right, moves to the deckchair down Right and sits lost in a brown study.)

COPE. I feel I ought to speak to Lennox. I don’t want to be anything but straightforward about this business.

NADINE. No, Jeff—please. No, I mean it.

DRAGOMAN. (Off, calling) Dinner, him ready.

NADINE. You go on.

(COPE hesitates, then exits to the marquee. LENNOX enters Right and crosses to NADINE.)

LENNOX. Nadine.

NADINE. Yes.

LENNOX. You took me by surprise this afternoon. Wait until we get back to Jerusalem. Things may be different then.

NADINE. (Turning to look at him) Different? How should they be different?

(The DRAGOMAN enters from the marquee. He holds a gong, which he beats with enjoyment.)

DRAGOMAN. Dinner, him ready.

(NADINE exits to the marquee. LENNOX follows her off. The ARAB BOY enters from the marquee. He has a tray of drinks which he puts on the table. He then exits to the marquee. HIGGS enters Right.)

HIGGS. (To the DRAGOMAN) Steady on, lad, we’re not deaf.

DRAGOMAN. Dinner, him ready.

HIGGS. All right, we ’eard yer first time.

(LADY WESTHOLME enters Right. The DRAGOMAN crosses and exits Right.)

LADY WESTHOLME. (Crossing and sitting Right of the table) Perfectly barbarous! Really, natives are just like children.

HIGGS. (Moving above the table) Aye, my kids at ’ome love bangin’ gong. (He pours drinks for LADY WESTHOLME and himself.) ’Ave you got any kids, Lady Westholme?

LADY WESTHOLME. No.

HIGGS. Soom’ow I didn’t think you ’ad. (He sits Left of the table.)

(GERARD enters Right and moves to RAYMOND.)

LADY WESTHOLME. Indeed!

(LADY WESTHOLME and HIGGS sip their drinks.)

GERARD. (To RAYMOND) Lost in thought?

RAYMOND. I was thinking of our expedition this morning—to the place of sacrifice.

GERARD. Yes.

RAYMOND. You know, I think one can attach too much regard to life. Death isn’t really as important as we make out. Sometimes, I think a sacrifice is really necessary.

GERARD. You mean—the sacrifice of human life?

RAYMOND. Yes.

GERARD. It is expedient that one man should die for the people? Is that your idea?

RAYMOND. Yes, there’s a great truth there.

(The ARAB BOY enters on to the rock from Right and unsuccessfully tries to rouse MRS. BOYNTON.)

GERARD. A man may lay down his life, that is one thing—to be forcibly deprived of it is another. I doubt if that has ever advanced human progress or human happiness.

RAYMOND. (Rising, excitedly) I don’t agree with you. It might be the only thing to do. There are deaths that would result only in good—deaths that would set people free—deaths that would save misery and disaster. The kind of death that would only mean advancing the clock a little. All that is needed is courage—yes, courage.

(The ARAB BOY comes down to GERARD and whispers in his ear. GERARD and the ARAB BOY exit Right. During the ensuing lines, GERARD enters on to the rock from Right and bends over MRS. BOYNTON. LADY WESTHOLME finishes her drink, rises and exits to the marquee. LENNOX enters Right and moves to RAYMOND.)

HIGGS. (To RAYMOND) Courage is a funny thing, young man. There’s men as’ll face machine guns and run from mother-in-law.

(MISS PRYCE enters Right.)

MISS PRYCE. Oh, I do hope you haven’t been waiting for me.

HIGGS. (Rising and placing a chair for MISS PRYCE) ’Ow’s t’cadache? (He pours a drink for MISS PRYCE.)

MISS PRYCE. (Crossing and sitting Right of the table) Quite gone now, thank you.

HIGGS. Sorry you ’ad ter come back this afternoon. (He resumes his seat.) But yer didn’t miss mooch—except a bit of an argument with ’er ’oity-toityness and old father Abraham.

MISS PRYCE. Oh—what about?

HIGGS. Everything. And she was always right and he was always wrong.

MISS PRYCE. And do you agree, Mr. Higgs?

HIGGS. Ah doan’t know. Ancient ’Istory isn’t mooch in my line. I started at ten sixty-six and went t’other way.

(SARAH enters Right, crosses and stands above the table.)

SARAH. (Yawning) Ooh—I’ve been asleep.

HIGGS. Pleasant dreams, I ’ope.

SARAH. No dreams at all.

HIGGS. Ah ’ad a peculiar dream once.

MISS PRYCE. Oh, do tell us, Mr. Higgs.

HIGGS. (Chuckling) Ah dreamt there was three of me—and only one glass of beer.

MISS PRYCE. Oh, Mr. Higgs! Well, I really did have a peculiar dream once. I dreamed that I was going to tea with the Archbishop of Canterbury—so I took a ticket to Walham Green, of all places—and then I found I was in my nightdress.

(GERARD comes down from the rock to LENNOX.)

GERARD. Mr. Boynton. I fear I have some very bad news for you. Your mother—(He pauses) is dead.

CURTAIN