Magistrate — Act 2 - It Leaves Its Cupboard
THE SECOND ACT
_The scene is a supper-room at the Hotel des Princes, Meek Street, with two doors--the one leading into an adjoining room, the other into a passage--and a window opening on to a balcony.
_ _ISIDORE, a French waiter, is showing in CIS and MR. POSKET.
_ CIS.
Come on, Guv--come on.
How are you, Isidore?
ISIDORE.
I beg your pardon--I am quite well, and so are you, zank you.
CIS.
I want a pretty little light supper for myself and my friend, Mr. Skinner.
ISIDORE.
Mr. Skinner.
MR.
POSKET.
[_To CIS.
_] Skinner!
Is some one else coming?
CIS.
No, no. You're Skinner.
MR.
POSKET.
Oh!
[_Wanders round the room.
_ CIS.
Mr. Skinner, of the Stock Exchange.
What have you ready?
ISIDORE.
[_In an undertone to CIS.
_] I beg your pardon--very good--but Monsieur Blond he say to me, "Isidore, listen now; if Mr. Farringdon he come here, you say, I beg your pardon, you are a nice gentleman, but will you pay your little account when it is quite convenient, before you leave the house at once."
CIS.
Quite so, there's no difficulty about that.
What's the bill?
ISIDORE.
[_Gives the bill.
_] I beg your pardon.
Eight pounds four shillings.
CIS.
Phew!
Here go my winnings from old Bullamy and the Guv.
[_Counting out money.
_] Two pounds short.
[_Turning to MR. POSKET, who is carefully examining the scratches on the mirrors.
_] Skinner!
Skinner!
MR.
POSKET.
Visitors evidently scratch their names on the mirrors.
Dear me!
Surely this is a spurious title--"Lottie, Duchess of Fulham!"
How very curious!
CIS.
Skinner, got any money with you?
MR.
POSKET.
Yes, Cis, my boy.
[_Feels for his money.
_ CIS.
You always keep it in that pocket, Skinner.
MR.
POSKET.
[_Taking out money.
_] Oh, yes.
[_CIS takes two sovereigns from MR. POSKET and gives the amount of his bill to ISIDORE, who goes to the sideboard to count out change.
_ CIS.
No putting the change to bed, Isidore, MR.
POSKET.
What's that?
CIS.
Putting the change to bed!
Isidore will show you.
[_To ISIDORE, who comes to them with the change and the bill on a plate.
_] Isidore, show Mr. Skinner how you put silver to bed.
ISIDORE.
Oh, Mr. Farringdon, I beg your pardon--no, no!
MR.
POSKET.
It would be most instructive.
ISIDORE.
Very good.
[_Goes to the table, upon which he puts plate.
_] Say I have to give you change sixteen shillings.
MR.
POSKET.
Certainly.
ISIDORE.
Very good.
Before I bring it to you I slip a little half-crown under the bill--so.
Then I put what is left on the top of the bill, and I say, "I beg your pardon, your change."
You take it, you give me two shillings for myself, and all is right.
MR.
POSKET.
[_Counting the silver on the bill with the end of his glasses.
_] Yes, but suppose I count the silver, it is half-a-crown short!
ISIDORE.
Then I say, "I beg your pardon, how dare you say that?"
Then I do so.
[_He pulls the bill from the plate.
_] Then I say, "The bill is eight pounds four shillings [_handing the plate_], count again."
MR.
POSKET.
Ah, of course, it's all right now.
ISIDORE.
Very good, then you give me five shillings for doubting me.
Do it; do it.
MR.
POSKET.
[_In a daze, giving him the five shillings.
_] Like this?
ISIDORE.
Yes, like that.
[_Slipping the money into his pocket.
_] I beg your pardon--thank you.
[_Handing CIS the rest of the change.
_] Your change, Mr. Farringdon.
CIS.
Oh, I say, Isidore.
_BLOND, a fat, middle-aged French hotel-keeper, enters with a letter in his hand.
_ ISIDORE.
Monsieur Blond.
BLOND.
Good evening, Mr. Farringdon.
ISIDORE.
[_Quietly to BLOND.
_] Ze bill is all right.
CIS.
Good evening.
[_Introducing MR. POSKET.
_] My friend, Mr. Harvey Skinner, of the Stock Exchange.
BLOND.
Very pleased to see you.
[_To CIS.
_] Are you going to enjoy yourselves?
CIS.
Rather.
BLOND.
You usually eat in this room, but you don't mind giving it up for to-night--now, do you?
CIS.
Oh, Achille!
BLOND.
Come, come, to please me.
A cab has just brought a letter from an old customer of mine, a gentleman I haven't seen for over twenty years, who wants to sup with a friend in this room to-night.
It's quite true.
[_Giving CIS a letter.
_] CIS.
[_Reading to himself.
_] "19A, Cork Street.
Dear Blond,--Fresh, or rather, stale from India--want to sup with my friend, Captain Vale, to-night, at my old table in my old room.
Must do this for Auld Lang Syne.
Yours, Alexander Lukyn."
[_To BLOND.
_] Oh, let him have it.
Where will you put us?
BLOND.
You shall have the best room in the house, the one next to this.
This room--pah!
Come with me.
[_To MR. POSKET.
_] Have you known Mr. Farringdon for a long time?
MR.
POSKET.
No, no. Not very long.
BLOND.
Ah, he is a fine fellow--Mr. Farringdon.
Now, if you please.
You can go through this door.
[_Wheels sofa away and unlocks the door.
_ CIS.
[_To MR. POSKET.
_] You'll look better after a glass or two of Pommery, Guv.
MR.
POSKET.
No, no, Cis--now, no champagne.
CIS.
No champagne, not for my friend, Harvey Skinner!
Come, Guv--dig me in the ribs--like this.
[_Digging him in the ribs.
_] Chuck!
MR.
POSKET.
[_Shrinking.
_] Oh, don't!
CIS.
And say, Hey!
Go on, Guv.
MR.
POSKET.
I can't--I can't. I don't know what it may mean.
CIS.
[_Digging him in the ribs again.
_] Go on--ch-uck!
MR.
POSKET.
What, like this?
[_Returning the dig.
_] Ch-uck.
CIS.
That's it, that's it.
Ha, ha!
You are going it, Guv.
MR.
POSKET.
Am I, Cis?
Am I?
[_Waving his arm.
_] Hey!
CIS AND MR.
POSKET.
Hey!
CIS.
Ha, ha!
Come on!
Serve the supper, Achille.
BLOND.
Ah!
he is a grand fellow, Mr. Farringdon.
[_CIS and MR. POSKET go into the other room.
_] [_To ISIDORE.
_] Replace the _canapé.
_ [_There is a sharp knock at the other door.
BLOND follows CIS and MR. POSKET into the other room, then locks the door on the inside.
_ ISIDORE.
Come in, please.
_COLONEL LUKYN and CAPTAIN VALE enter the room.
LUKYN is a portly, grey-haired, good-looking military man; VALE is pale-faced and heavy-eyed, while his manner is languid and dejected.
_ LUKYN.
This is the room.
Come in, Vale.
This is my old supper-room--I haven't set foot here for over twenty years.
By George, I hope to sup here for another twenty.
VALE.
[_Dejectedly.
_] Do you?
In less than that, unless I am lucky enough to fall in some foreign set-to, I shall be in Kensal Green.
LUKYN.
[_Looking round the room sentimentally.
_] Twenty years ago!
Confound 'em, they've painted it.
VALE.
My people have eight shelves in the Catacombs at Kensal Green.
LUKYN.
Nonsense, man, nonsense.
You're a little low.
Waiter, take our coats.
VALE.
Don't check me, Lukyn.
My shelf is four from the bottom.
LUKYN.
You'll forget the number of your shelf before you're half way through your oysters.
VALE.
[_Shaking his head.
_] An oyster merely reminds me of my own particular shell.
[_ISIDORE begins to remove VALE'S coat.
_ LUKYN.
Ha, ha!
Ha, ha!
VALE.
Don't, Lukyn, don't. [_In an undertone to LUKYN.
_] It's very good of you, but, by Jove, my heart is broken.
[_To ISIDORE.
_] Mind my flower, waiter, confound you.
[_He adjusts flower in his button-hole.
_ ISIDORE.
You have ordered supper, sir?
LUKYN.
Yes, on the back of my note to Mr. Blond.
Serve it at once.
ISIDORE.
I beg your pardon, sir, at once.
[_He goes out.
_ LUKYN.
So, you've been badly treated by a woman, eh, Vale?
VALE.
Shockingly.
Between man and man, a Miss Verrinder--Charlotte.
[_Turning away.
_] Excuse me, Lukyn.
[_Produces a folded silk handkerchief, shakes it out, and gently blows his nose.
_ LUKYN.
[_Lighting a cigarette.
_] Certainly--certainly--does you great credit.
Pretty woman?
VALE.
Oh, lovely!
A most magnificent set of teeth.
All real, as far as I can ascertain.
LUKYN.
No?
VALE.
Fact.
LUKYN.
Great loss;--have a cigarette.
VALE.
[_Taking case from LUKYN.
_] Parascho's?
LUKYN.
Yes.
Was she--full grown?
VALE.
[_Lighting his cigarette.
_] Just perfection.
