The Silver Box by John Galsworthy Read Free Book Online

be!
     
    SNOW. Yes, ma'am, a rough customer.
     
    JACK. [Sipping his mine, 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 intoxicated 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'll be his line, sir; but whether he's 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'll 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 dozen again.]
     
    I suppose the lady hasn'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 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 position 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'll be much difficulty. These things are very quick settled.
     
    BARTHWICK. [Doubtfully.] You think so—you think so?
     
    JACK. [Rousing himself.] I say, what shall I