Benefit of the Doubt — Act 2 Part 1
THE SECOND ACT
_The Scene represents a room in_ MR. ALLINGHAM’S _cottage at Epsom.
On the left-hand side is a fireplace, with a fire burning; above this is a door giving on to the hall; while below it is a similar door, over which hangs a_ portière, _drawn aside, admitting to the dining-room.
Facing us is a large open French window; and beyond is a view of a pretty garden with trees, laurels, etc. On the right, also facing us, but nearer, are a few balustered steps leading to an arched opening which is about three feet from the ground.
The opening, across which runs a rod supporting a_ portière, _admits to a small room, which, although containing no books that are visible, is called the library.
All the furniture and accessories are characteristic of a well-to-do bachelor’s residence.
It is twilight.
_ DENZIL SHAFTO _and_ PETER ELPHICK, _two well-groomed, smart-looking men of about five-and-thirty, dressed for dinner, are shown in by_ QUAIFE, _a manservant_.
QUAIFE _is carrying a banjo in a case_.
SHAFTO.
What time did Mr. Allingham get down?
QUAIFE.
[_Placing the banjo on the table.
_] Half an hour ago, sir; I’m now dressing him.
[_To_ ELPHICK.
] Glad you brought the banjo, Mr. Elphick.
ELPHICK.
[_A heavy-looking man with staring eyes, taking the banjo from its case with great care.
_] Nearly made me lose the train, Quaife, puzzlin’ whether to bring it or not.
QUAIFE.
[_Laying the case aside.
_] Do Mr. Allingham a load of good, sir—a little melody after dinner.
SHAFTO.
Mr. Allingham rather fatigued?
QUAIFE.
Never saw him so played out, sir.
[_Closing the windows.
_] Oh, Mr. Allingham’s compliments, Mr. Shafto, and he says he forgot to inquire whether you and Mr. Elphick would sleep at The Lichens to-night.
SHAFTO.
Not to-night, thanks.
I’ve arranged to take Mr. Elphick on to my father’s place at Leatherhead.
ELPHICK.
We shan’t keep you up here till the last train, Quaife, or anything like.
Dessay Mr. Allingham’ll be glad to turn in early.
QUAIFE.
Not much good _him_ turning in, Mr. Elphick.
SHAFTO.
Queer nights lately, of sorts?
QUAIFE.
Shockin’, Mr. Shafto.
[QUAIFE _goes out_.
SHAFTO.
[_Looking round.
_] Here we are again, Peter.
ELPHICK.
’Pears so.
SHAFTO.
[_Wandering about.
_] This is my first visit to this box since Jack came back here after his split with his wife.
ELPHICK.
And mine; thought he’d sold it.
SHAFTO.
He merely let it, when he married—let it to a stockbroker.
Peter, Jack must have had some sort of a premonition—— ELPHICK.
Some sort of what?
SHAFTO.
Premonition—— ELPHICK.
Stoopid ass of a word.
SHAFTO.
Some sort of a premonition of his speedy return to single life.
[_Looking out of the window.
_] Same spotless white gate, I rejoice to see; same elms; same laurels—[_Ascending the steps.
_] The library——!
[_Entering the room.
_] My heart sinks within me.
[_From within.
_] No, by Jove!
Peter!
Peter!
[ELPHICK _goes and looks into the room through the balustrade_.
ELPHICK.
What’s wrong?
SHAFTO.
[_From within.
_] Nothing.
I breathe again.
All the essential features of Jack’s library are undisturbed.
[_Coming down the steps.
_] A luxurious sofa, Ruff’s Turf Guide, and the Stud Book.
ELPHICK.
[_Drearily.
_] Blessed if there’s anything to make fun of in that.
SHAFTO.
[_At a table, examining bottles.
_] Delightful!
Same soda water, same—— ELPHICK.
[_Sitting, nursing his banjo_.
] No, hang it!
SHAFTO.
[_Pouring out a glass of Vermouth.
_] Vermouth.
Peter, I was totting up things this morning, gently and quietly, in my bath.
ELPHICK.
[_Blowing a speck of dust from his banjo.
_] Not really?
SHAFTO.
[_Seriously.
_] Yes.
You weren’t at Jack’s weddin’?
ELPHICK.
No, I was up at Mahabaleshwar that spring with Sandington.
You stood best man, didn’t you?
SHAFTO.
I did.
And look here—Jack Allingham is the seventh I’ve been best man to in nine years.
ELPHICK.
[_Abstractedly.
_] Good figgers.
SHAFTO.
[_Frowning.
_] And they’ve all managed to get into the Divorce Court since, one way or another.
[_After a pause.
_] How’s that?
ELPHICK.
Good figgers.
JOHN ALLINGHAM _enters, a simple, boyish man, of about thirty, looking pale and worn.
He is dressed for dinner.
_ JOHN.
[_Shaking hands with_ SHAFTO.
] Halloa, Denzil!
[_To_ ELPHICK, _shaking hands with him_.
] Well, Peter!
It’s awfully good of you fellows proposing to see me through this evening.
ELPHICK.
Not in the least.
SHAFTO.
Speak for yourself, Peter.
JOHN.
I couldn’t have endured my own company to-night, I can tell you.
Sorry you can’t sleep here, though.
SHAFTO.
My governor hasn’t seen Peter since he’s been home this leave.
It’s an old promise—— JOHN.
I understand.
[_Taking the banjo from_ ELPHICK.
] And you’ve actually brought the banjo.
ELPHICK.
Well, when a man’s a bit low, sometimes a little music—— JOHN.
Thanks.
[_To both of them.
_] Warm, yesterday and to-day, in that Law Court, wasn’t it?
ELPHICK.
Agra in June.
JOHN.
Warm in every sense of the word, eh?
SHAFTO.
Hell.
JOHN.
[_With his hand to his brow.
_] Gurrrh!
SHAFTO.
[_Sharply.
_] Now, then?
ELPHICK.
It’s done with now.
JOHN.
[_Recovering himself.
_] True; that cursed nightmare of an approaching trial isn’t waiting for me upstairs, in that bedroom of mine, any longer.
And to-morrow morning I shall wake with a start to find—what’ll the feeling be like!
—that I’ve no lawyers to interview.
Besides, I haven’t much to complain of.
You two fellows have kept close at my elbow throughout the whole business—hardly ever left me.
Well, that’s friendship—[_shaking hands abruptly, first with_ ELPHICK, _then with_ SHAFTO]—God bless yer!
[_He walks away and sits on the settee, looking into the fire.
_ ELPHICK _and_ SHAFTO _stand together, eyeing him uneasily_.
SHAFTO.
[_In a whisper, to_ ELPHICK.
] Peter, our bags are here.
What d’ye say to not leaving him to-night, after all?
ELPHICK.
[_In a whisper.
_] Yes, I don’t suppose your guv’nor wants to see me so desperate bad as all that comes to.
SHAFTO.
No, I don’t suppose he does—I mean, we can go over in the morning.
JOHN.
[_Looking up.
_] Eh?
SHAFTO.
Nothing.
JOHN.
[_Passing his fingers over the strings of the banjo.
_] You don’t remember, Denzil—nor you, Peter, I suppose; _she_ used to thrum on this thing—well, hardly this thing—the guitar—much the same.
Oh, yes, she used to play it very nicely.
SHAFTO.
[_Puzzled.
_] Who?
Mrs. Fraser?
JOHN.
Mrs. Fraser!
No!
[_Handling the banjo roughly.
_] My wife.
ELPHICK.
[_Hurrying across to John, taking the banjo from him.
_] Excuse me, old feller.
JOHN.
[_Starting up.
_] I was close to her to-day; we stared each other right in the eyes.
We didn’t mean to—we simply did it.
We met in the corridor during lunch-time; I was getting out of the way of old Portwood; I turned sharply—and there we were, my wife and I, face to face.
It might have been for ten seconds—it was like an hour.
ELPHICK.
Did she look angry?
JOHN.
No. Downright ill and distressed.
[_To both of them.
_] You’ve seen her in Court?
SHAFTO.
Yes.
ELPHICK.
Yes.
JOHN.
Yesterday?
SHAFTO.
We said “How d’ye do” to her yesterday.
ELPHICK.
We told you.
JOHN.
Oh, yes, To-day?
SHAFTO.
Not to speak to.
ELPHICK.
She nodded to us this morning from the—what do they call it?
—not the sink—— SHAFTO.
Well.
ELPHICK.
Well of the Court.
JOHN.
Denzil.
SHAFTO.
’Ullo?
JOHN.
She was very pretty when I married her, wasn’t she?
SHAFTO.
Undoubtedly.
[JOHN _sits, leaning his head upon his hands_.
SHAFTO _walks away, quietly, to the window_.
ELPHICK _sits on the settee, and, turning his face to the fire, strikes up a tune on his banjo_.
JOHN.
That’s right!
tune up, Peter!
If I had a savage breast this evening you might soothe it with your Tinka-tinka-tinka-tinka-tink, as Kipling says.
But I haven’t—isn’t that odd?
Boys, do you know, all the bitterness I’ve been feeling towards her seems to have died out of me; and she’s been dragging me pretty thoroughly through the mud lately.
Isn’t that odd?
SHAFTO.
[_Leaving the window, and coming to the back of settee.
_] Well, she’s lost the day, you see.
ELPHICK.
[_Ceasing playing.
_] She’s beaten; got nothin’ for her pains.
JOHN.
I suppose that’s it.
Ah, but her face!
I hadn’t seen it for months.
And the silence between us was so strange.
SHAFTO.
Yes, there wasn’t much of _that_, old chap, between you two when you were together.
JOHN.
No; _didn’t_ we quarrel!
And yet, this morning, during our little deadly-silent encounter, she seemed to say more to me than she’d ever said in her life before.
By Jove, she _has_ suffered—[_starting up_]—oh, damn it!
[_He paces to and fro_; ELPHICK _hurriedly resumes his playing_.
SHAFTO.
[_Seating himself on the back of the settee, speaking with a drawl.
_] Ah, I shouldn’t worry myself too much, if I were you, about that.
Other people have suffered.
JOHN.
[_Pausing in his walk.
_] Mrs. Fraser——?
SHAFTO.
[_Indifferently.
_] Oh, she amongst ’em.
JOHN.
[_In a low voice.
_] Poor little Theo Fraser!
I’m forgetting her.
SHAFTO.
Forget all round, my dear Jack—that’s the ticket; for the future, cultivate a single-minded devotion to yourself—— JOHN.
And the horses!
You’re right, Denzil.
By the bye, I had a line from O’Halligan yesterday—where is it?
[_Going to a writing-table and rummaging among the litter there.
_] He fancies Kildaowen very strongly.
The mare’s feeding well; that’s always been their difficulty, you know—— SHAFTO.
[_Quietly, looking towards the window.
_] Jack.
JOHN.
Eh?
SHAFTO.
Who’s that woman out there?
[ELPHICK _ceases playing_.
JOHN.
Where?
SHAFTO.
In your garden.
[JOHN _looks towards the window_; ELPHICK _rises and makes one of the group_.
JOHN.
[_After a pause.
_] I don’t see anybody.
