The Silver Box by John Galsworthy Read Free Book Online Page B

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!
     
    MRS. BARTHWICK. But don't what, dear?
     
    JACK. It was pure sport. I don't know how I got the thing. Of course I 'd had a bit of a row—I didn'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 to—[in a desperate and rising voice] a woman.
     
    MRS. BARTHWICK. A woman? Oh! Jack! No!
     
    JACK. [Jumping up.] You would have it. I didn'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 evening 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 wasn'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 business of Jack's too—don't you see the brute took both the things—took that infernal purse. It'll 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'll get into the papers.
     
    MRS. BARTHWICK. [With her hand across hey 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, setting 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 impudence? Why wasn't I told?
     
    [She looks round from face to face—no one answers hey, there is a pause.]
     
    BARTHWICK. [Suddenly.] What's to be done, Roper?
     
    ROPER. [Quietly to JACK.] I suppose you didn't leave your latch-key in the door?
     
    JACK. [Sullenly.] Yes, I did.
     
    BARTHWICK. Good heavens! What next?
     
    MRS. BARTHWICK. I'm certain you never let that 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—[hesitating]—that is—I—
     
    BARTHWICK. On the sofa? D'you mean to say you didn'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 remember his—
     
    [BARTHWICK moves abruptly; MRS. BARTHWICK looks at ROPER angrily, and touches her son's arm.]
     
    MRS. BARTHWICK. You don't