Act 2

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_ THE SECOND ACT

Scene: Entrance garden of the hotel.

In the distance are seen the green slopes of vineyards, a ruined castle, and olive orchards leading up the mountainside.

An old stone wall seven feet high runs across the rear of the stage. This wall is almost covered with vines, showing autumn tints, crowning the crest of the wall and hanging from it in profusion. There is a broad green gate of the Southern Italian type, closed. A white-columned pergola runs obliquely down from the wall on the right. The top of the pergola is an awning formed by a skeleton of green-painted wooden strips thickly covered by entwining lemon branches bearing ripening lemons. Between the columns of the pergola are glimpses of a formal Italian garden: flowers, hedges, and a broad flat marble vase on a slender pedestal, etc. On the left a two-story wing of the hotel meets the wall at the back and runs square across to the left; a lemon grove lies to the left also. The wall of the hotel facing the audience shows open double doors, with windows up-stairs and below, all with lowered awnings. There is a marble bench at the left among shrubberies; an open touring-car upon the right under the awning formed by the overhang of the pergola; a bag of tools, open, on the stage near by, the floor boards of the car removed, the apron lifted.

As the curtain rises, PIKE, in his shirt-sleeves, his hands dirty, and wearing a workman's long blouse buttoned at neck, is bending over the engine, working and singing, at intervals whistling "The Blue and the Gray." His hat, duster, and cuffs are on the rear seat of the tonneau.

[Enter HORACE from the garden. He is flushed and angry; controls himself with an effort, trying to speak politely.]

HORACE. Mr. Pike!

PIKE [apparently not hearing him, hammering at a bolt-head with a monkey-wrench and singing].

"One lies down at Appomattox--"

HORACE [sharply]. Mr. Pike! Mr. Pike, I wish a word with you.

PIKE [looks up mildly]. Hum!

[He moves to the other side of the engine, rubbing handle of monkey-wrench across his chin as if puzzled.]

HORACE. I wish to tell you that the surprise of this morning so upset me that I went for a long walk. I have just returned.

PIKE [regarding the machine intently, sings softly].

"One wore clothes of gray--."

[Then he whistles the air. Throughout this interview he maintains almost constantly an air of absorption in his work and continues to whistle and sing softly.]

HORACE [continuing]. I have been even more upset by what I have just learned from my sister.

PIKE [absently]. Why, that's too bad.

HORACE. It _is_ too bad--absurdly--monstrously bad! She tells me that she has done you the honor to present you to the family with which we are forming an alliance--to the Earl of Hawcastle--her fiance's father--

PIKE [with cheerful absent-mindedness--working]. Yes, sir!

HORACE [continuing]. To her fiance's aunt, Lady Creech--

PIKE. Yes, sir! the whole possetucky of them. [Singing softly.] "She was my hanky-panky-danky from the town of Kalamazack!" Yes, sir--that French lady, too.

[He throws a quick, keen glance at HORACE, then instantly appears absorbed in work again, singing,]

"She ran away with a circus clown--she never did come back--Oh, Solomon Levi!"

[Continues to whistle the tune softly.]

HORACE. And she introduced you to her fiance--to Mr. St. Aubyn himself.

PIKE [looking up, monkey-wrench in hand]. Yes, sir [chuckles]; _we_ had quite a talk about shootin' in Indiana; said he'd heard of Peru, in his school history. Wanted to come out some day, he said, and asked what our best game was. I told him we had some Incas still preserved in the mountains of Indiana, and he said he'd like a good Inca head to put up in his gun-room. He _ought_ to get one, _oughtn't_ he?

[Starts to work again, busily.]

HORACE [indignantly]. My sister informs me that in spite of Lord Hawcastle's most graciously offering to discuss her engagement with you, you refused.

PIKE. Well, I didn't see any need of it.

HORACE. Furthermore, you allege that you will decline to go into the matter with Lord Hawcastle's solicitor.

PIKE. What matter?

HORACE [angrily]. The matter of the settlement.

PIKE [quietly]. Your sister kind of let it out to me awhile ago that you think a good deal of this French widow lady. Suppose you make up your mind to take her for richer or poorer--what's _she_ going to give _you_?

HORACE [roaring]. Nothing! What do you mean?

PIKE. Well, I thought you'd probably charge her [with a slight drawl] a _little_, anyhow. Ain't that the way over here?

[Turns to work again, humming "Dolly Gray."]

HORACE. It is impossible for you to understand the motives of my sister and myself in our struggle _not_ to remain in the vulgar herd. But can't you try to comprehend that there is an Old-World society, based not on wealth, but on that indescribable something which comes of ancient lineage and high birth? [With great indignation.] You presume to interfere between us and the fine flower of Europe!

PIKE [straightening up, but speaking quietly]. Well, I don't know as the folks around Kokomo would ever have spoke of your father as a "fine flower," but we thought a heap of him, and when he married your ma he was so glad to get her--well, I never heard yet that he asked for any _settlement_!

HORACE. You are quite impossible.

PIKE. The fact is, when she took him he was a poor man; but if he'd a had seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars, I'll bet he'd 'a' given it for her.

[Starts to hammer vigorously, humming "Dolly Gray."]

HORACE. There is no profit in continuing the discussion.

[Turns on his heel, but immediately turns again toward PIKE, who is apparently preoccupied.]

And I warn you we shall act without paying the slightest attention to you. [Triumphantly.] What have you to say to that, sir?

[PIKE'S answer is conveyed by the motor-horn, which says: "Honk! Honk!" HORACE throws up his hands despairingly. PIKE'S voice becomes audible in the last words of the song: "Good-bye, Dolly Gray."]

[Enter LADY CREECH and ALMERIC through the gates.]

HORACE [meeting them]. The fellow is hopeless.

LADY CREECH [not hearing, and speaking from habit, automatically]. Dreadful person!

[PIKE continues his work, paying no attention.]

ALMERIC [to HORACE]. Better let him alone till the Governor's had time to think a bit. Governor's clever. He'll fetch the beggar about somehow.

LADY CREECH [with a Parthian glance at the unconscious PIKE]. I sha'h't stop in the creature's presence--I shall go up to my room for my forty winks.

[Exit into the hotel.]

ALMERIC [as she goes out]. Day-day, aunt! [To HORACE.] I'm off to look at that pup again. You trust the Governor.

HORACE [as ALMERIC goes]. I do, I do. It is insufferable, but I'll wait.

[Exit into the garden.]

[PIKE stands for a moment, contemplating the car in some despondency, still humming or whistling.]

[LADY CREECH, after a few moments, appears at a window in the upper story of the hotel. Unseen by PIKE, she pulls up the awning for a better view, and drops lace curtains inside of window so as to screen herself from observation. Sits watching.]

[Immediately upon HORACE'S exit MARIANO, flustered, enters hurriedly from the hotel, goes to the gates, and fumbles with the lock. At the same time VASILI enters from the garden, smoking.]

VASILI. You make progress, my friend?

PIKE. Your machine's like a good many people--got sand in its gear-box.

VASILI [to MARIANO]. Are you locking us in?

MARIANO [excitedly coming down and showing a big key which he has taken from the lock]. No, Herr von Groellerhagen, I lock some one _out_--that bandit who have not been capture. The carabiniere warn us to close all gates for an hour. They will have that wicked one soon. There are two companies. [In a lower tone to VASILI.] Monsieur Ribiere has much fears.

VASILI. Monsieur Ribiere is sometimes a fool.

MARIANO [in a hoarse whisper]. Monsieur, this convict is a Russian.

[VASILI waves him away somewhat curtly.]

[Exit MARIANO, shaking his head, carrying the key with him.]

PIKE. Two companies of soldiers! A town marshal out my way would 'a' had him yesterday.

VASILI. My friend, you are teaching me to respect your country, not by what you brag, but by what you do.

PIKE. How's that.

VASILI [significantly]. I see how a son of that great democracy can apply himself to a dirty machine, while his eyes are full of visions of one of its beautiful daughters.

PIKE [slowly and sadly, peering into the machine]. Doc, there's sand in your gear-box.

VASILI [laughing]. So?

PIKE. You go down to the kitchen and make signs for some of the help to give you a nice clean bunch of rags.

VASILI [surprised into hauteur]. What is it you ask me to do?

PIKE. I need some more rags.

VASILI [amused]. My friend, I obey.

[Makes a mock-serious bow and starts.]

PIKE. I won't leave the machine--'twouldn't be safe.

VASILI [halting, laughs]. You fear this famous bandit would steal it?

PIKE. No; but there's parties around here might think it was a settlement.

VASILI. I do not understand.

PIKE [chuckling]. Doc, that's where we're in the same fix.

VASILI. Weidersehn, my friend.

[Exit into hotel.]

[PIKE kneels on the foot-board of machine above gear-box, begins to clean, using an old rag, singing "Sweet Genevieve." A distant shot is heard. PIKE looks up at this, ceasing to sing. Then he continues his work and music. LADY CREECH leans out from her window, staring off to the right with opera-glasses. There is a noise at the gates as some one hastily but cautiously tries to open them. PIKE looks up again, turns toward the gates, and, after a short pause, again begins to sing and work, but very softly.]

[IVANOFF appears on top of the wall at back, climbing up cautiously from lane below. He creeps from the wall to the top of pergola and cautiously along that through the foliage to above PIKE. He peers over the foliage at PIKE.]

[PIKE looks up slowly, and, as slowly, stops "Sweet Genevieve," his voice fading away on a half syllable as he encounters IVANOFF'S gaze. They stare at each other, LADY CREECH observing unseen.]

[IVANOFF is a thin, very fragile-looking man of thirty-eight. His disordered hair is prematurely gray, his beard is a grizzled four days' stubble. He is exceedingly haggard and worn, but has the face and look of a man of refinement and cultivation. He has lost his hat; his shoes and trousers are splashed with dried mud, and brambles cling to him here and there. He wears a soiled white shirt and collar, and a torn black tie, black waistcoat and trousers. He is covered with dust from head to foot; one sleeve of his shirt has been torn off at the elbow. He wears no coat.]

IVANOFF [in a voice tremulous with tragic appeal]. Et ce que vous etes un homme de bon coeur? Je ne suis pas coupable--

PIKE [very gravely]. There ain't any use in the world your talkin' to me like that!

IVANOFF [panting]. You are an Englishman?

PIKE [quietly, rising and stepping back]. That'll do for _that._ You come down from there!

IVANOFF [in a voice that lifts, almost cracks, with sudden hope]. An American?

PIKE. They haven't made me anything else yet.

IVANOFF [swinging himself down to the ground]. Thank God for that!

[He leans against the car, exhausted.]

PIKE. I do. What makes _you_ so glad about it?

IVANOFF. Because I have suffered in the cause your own forefathers gave their lives for. I am a Russian political fugitive, and I can go no farther. If you give me up I shall not be taken alive. I have no weapon, but I can find a way to cut my throat.

PIKE [with humorous incredulity]. Are _you_ the bandit they're lookin' for?

IVANOFF. They call me that. Do I look like a bandit?

PIKE. How close are they?

IVANOFF [with despairing gesture]. There!

PIKE. Did they see you climb that wall?

IVANOFF. I think not.

[There comes a loud ringing at the gates. At the sound IVANOFF starts violently, throwing one arm up as if to shield his face from a blow.]

IVANOFF. Oh, my God! it is they!

[He staggers back against the machine.]

PIKE [hastily stripping off his working blouse]. Do you know anything about gear-box plugs?

[The ringing continues.]

IVANOFF. Nothing in the world.

PIKE. Then you're a chauffeur. [Puts blouse on him.] Take a look at this one. [With emphatic significance.] It's _underneath_ the machine.

[Quickly sets his hands on IVANOFF'S shoulders, having forced the blouse on him, and pushes him beneath the car.]

MARIANO [within the hotel, calling]. Subito! Subito! Vengo, Signore! Vengo!

[PIKE at same time rapidly wipes his hands on a rag, puts on his hat, cuffs, and coat, which have been lying on the seat.]

MARIANO [running on, flustered]. Corpo de St. Costanzo! Non posso essere dapertutto allo stesso tempo. Vengo, vengo!

[He hastens to the gates with his key, unfastening busily. Meanwhile PIKE lights a cigar.]

MARIANO. Ecco! [Throws open gates and falls back in astonishment.] Dio mio!

[Two carabiniere, good-looking, soldierly men in the carabiniere uniform, cocked hats, white cross-belts, etc., are disclosed, their carbines slung over their arms, their long cloaks thrown back. Behind the carabiniere stand some fishermen in red caps, dirty flannel shirts, and trousers rolled up to the knee; also a few ragged beggars.]

FIRST CARABINIERE [as gate is opened]. Buon giorno!

[The two carabiniere enter briskly.]

MARIANO. [springing forward and closing gate, calling to crowd outside]. No, no!

FIRST CARABINIERE. Ceerchimo l'assassino Russo.

MARIANO. Dio mio! Non nell' Albergo Regina Margherita.

SECOND CARABINIERE [coming to PIKE]. Avete visto un uomo scavalcare il muro?

PIKE [genially]. Wishing you many happy returns, Colonel!

MARIANO [greatly excited]. It is the robber of Russia. They think he climb the wall, the assassin. The other carabiniere, they surround all yonder. [Gesturing right and left.] These two they search here. They ask you, please, have you see him climb the wall.

PIKE. No.

FIRST CARABINIERE. Ae quelcuno passato de qui?

MARIANO. He say has any one go across here?

PIKE. No.

FIRST CARABINIERE [pointing under the car]. Chi costui?

MARIANO. He want to know who that is.

PIKE. The new chauffeur for the machine, from Naples.

MARIANO. E lo chauffeur di un illustre personaggio padrone dell' automobile.

FIRST CARABINIERE [bowing to PIKE]. Grazia, Signore. [To MARIANO.] Cerchereremo nel giardino.

[Exit swiftly FIRST CARABINIERE to the right through pergola; SECOND to the left.]

MARIANO. Dio mio! but those are the brave men, Signore. Either one shall meet in a moment this powerful assassin who may take his lifes.

[Murmur of voice from back arises, sounds of running feet and shrill whistles and pounding on gates.]

[MARIANO runs back, opens the gates, showing excited and clamoring fishermen and beggars in the lane. They try to come in. He drives them back with a napkin, which has been hanging over his arm, crying: "Vate, vate! Devo dire al maresciallo di cacciarvi?"]

[Meanwhile VASILI has entered from the hotel, a bundle of clean white rags in his hand.]

VASILI. Is there a new eruption of Vesuvius?

PIKE [meeting him and taking the rags]. No; it's an eruption of colonels trying to arrest a high-school professor. I've got him under your car there.

VASILI [astounded]. What!

PIKE. I told them he's your new chauffeur.

VASILI. My friend, do you realize the penalty for protecting a criminal from arrest?

PIKE. We'll be proud of the risk.

[Speaks in an undertone to IVANOFF.]

This man owns the car. You can trust him the same as your own father.

VASILI [remonstrating]. My friend, my friend!

[Illustration: "THE NEW CHAUFFEUR FOR THE MACHINE, FROM NAPLES"]

PIKE [quietly]. Look out, the Governor's staff is coming back.

MARIANO [closing the gates and wiping his face]. Lazzaroni!

[At the same time FIRST CARABINIERE enters from right; SECOND CARABINIERE from left.]

SECOND CARABINIERE. Niente!

FIRST CARABINIERE. Niente la!

[The two CARABINIERE cross briskly to each other as they speak, and stand conferring.]

MARIANO. Grazia Dio! He has gone some other place!

PIKE [very casually to VASILI]. You'll have to get a new off front tire, Doc. That one is pretty near gone. Better have Jim, here, put on the spare when he gets through.

[The CARABINIERE beckon to MARIANO and speak to him.]

VASILI [seriously, stepping toward PIKE]. Do you know what you are asking me to do?

PIKE [watching CARABINIERE]. To put on a new tire.

[VASILI, with exclamation and gesture of despair grimly tinged with humor, turns away, greatly disturbed.]

MARIANO [addressing PIKE with an embarrassed bow]. The carabiniere with all excuses beg if you will command the chauffeur to step forth from the automobile.

PIKE. _No_, sir; I worked on that machine myself for three hours. He's got his hands full of nuts and screws and bolts half fastened. If he lays them down now to come out I don't know how long it'll take to get them back in place. We want to get this job finished. [Continues with a plaintive uplift of voice.] This is _serious_! Tell them to go on up Main Street with their Knights of Pythias parade, and come around some day when we haven't got our hands full.

MARIANO [meekly]. I tell them--yes, sir.

[Turns and confers with the CARABINIERE.]

PIKE. It'll be your turn in a minute, Doc; be mighty careful what you say.

MARIANO. Because the chauffeur have been engaged only to-day and have just arrived, the carabiniere ask ten thousand pardons, but inquire how long he have been known to his employer.

[He bows to VASILI with embarrassment.]

PIKE. How long? Why, he was raised on his father's farm.

[He faces VASILI, and stretches his arm out toward him as if for corroboration.]

MARIANO [to VASILI]. Oh, if that is so!

PIKE. It _is_ so; ain't it, Doc?

VASILI [to. MARIANO, with dignity]. You have heard my friend say it.

MARIANO [to VASILI, in a serious undertone]. Monseigneur graciously consents that I reveal his incognito to the carabiniere.

VASILI. Is it necessary?

MARIANO. Otherwise I fear they will not withdraw; they have suspicion.

VASILI [with a gesture of resignation]. Very well, tell them. I rely upon them to preserve my incognito from all others.

MARIANO [bowing deeply]. Monseigneur, they will be discreet.

[Goes up to CARABINIERE and speaks to them.]

PIKE [aside to IVANOFF]. Make a noise--keep busy. [Then with more emphasis.] But don't you unscrew anything!

MARIANO [to VASILI, smiling]. Monseigneur, they withdraw.

[The CARABINIERE, with great deference and gravity, salute VASILI. He returns the salute curtly.]

FIRST CARABINIERE. Mille grazias, Signore!

[MARIANO throws the gates open, the two CARABINIERE go rapidly out, sweeping the crowd away. MARIANO closes the gates.]

PIKE [giving MARIANO a coin]. You're pretty good. MARIANO. It required but the slightest diplomacy, Signore. Thank you, Signore!

[Exit into the hotel.]

PIKE [puzzled]. He must have mesmerized the militia.

VASILI [glancing off]. It is quite safe for the time.

PIKE [going to the car]. It's all right, old man!

[Extends his hand to IVANOFF and helps him up from beneath the machine.]

IVANOFF. I will pray God for you all my life.

PIKE. Wait till we get you plumb out of the woods.

IVANOFF [to VASILI]. And you, sir, if I could speak my gratitude--

VASILI [crisply]. My American friend yonder has placed himself--and myself--in danger of the penal code of Italy for protecting you. Perhaps you will be so good as to let us know for what we have incriminated ourselves.

IVANOFF [looking at him keenly]. You are a Russian?

PIKE. Don't be afraid--he's only a German.

IVANOFF [bitterly]. The Italian journals call me a brigand, inspired by the Russian legation in Rome. My name is Ivanoff Ivanovitch.

PIKE [reassuringly]. All right, old man!

IVANOFF. I was condemned in Petersburg ten years ago. I was a professor of the languages, a translator in the bureau of the Minister of Finance. I was a member of the Society of the Blue Fifty, a constitutionalist.

PIKE. Good for you.

IVANOFF. I was able to do little for the cause, though I tried.

VASILI. How did you try?

IVANOFF. I transferred funds of the government to the Society of the Blue Fifty. Never one ruble for myself. [Strikes himself on the breast.] It was for Russia's sake--not mine!

VASILI [sharply]. But you committed the great Russian crime of getting yourself caught?

IVANOFF. Through treachery. There was an Englishman who lived in Petersburg. He had contracts with the government--I thought he was my best friend. I had married in my student days in Paris--ah, it is the old story [bitterly]! I knew that this Englishman admired my wife; but I trusted him--as I trusted her--and he made my house his home. I had fifty thousand rubles in my desk to be delivered to my society. The police came to search; they found only me--but not my wife nor my English friend--nor the fifty thousand rubles! I went to Siberia. Now I search for those two.

VASILI [gravely]. Was it they who sent the police?

IVANOFF. After they had taken the money and were beyond the frontier themselves. That is all I have against them.

PIKE [gently]. Looks to me like it would be enough.

VASILI. Then, by your own confession, you are an embezzler and a revolutionist.

PIKE [going to VASILI quickly]. Why, the man's down; you wouldn't go back on him now.

[With a half chuckle.]

Besides, you've made yourself one of his confederates.

VASILI. Upon my soul, so I have.

[Bursts into laughter and lays his hands on PIKE'S shoulders.]

My friend, from my first sight of you in the hotel at Napoli I saw that you were a great man.

PIKE [grinning]. What are you doing, running for Congress?

VASILI [after a grave look at IVANOFF, turns to PIKE again]. I do not think that the carabiniere went away without suspicion.

IVANOFF. Suspicion! They will watch every exit from the hotel and its grounds. What can I do, until darkness--

PIKE [motioning toward the hotel]. Why, Doc's got the whole lower floor of this wing--you're his chauffeur--

VASILI [quickly, grimly]. I was about to suggest it. I have a room that can easily be spared to Professor Ivanoff.

IVANOFF [going to them, greatly touched]. My friends, God bless both of you!

[As he speaks he shakes hands with PIKE and turns to offer his hand to VASILI, who, apparently without noticing it, goes up toward the hotel.]

PIKE. Don't waste time talkin' about that. I shouldn't be surprised if you were hungry.

[Takes him by elbow and walks him to door of hotel.]

IVANOFF. I have had no food for a day.

VASILI [grimly]. My valet de chambre will attend to Professor Ivanoff's needs. No one shall be allowed to enter his room.

PIKE. And don't you go out of it, either.

VASILI. He shall not. This way.

[The three go into the hotel. Immediately on their disappearance LADY CREECH'S curtains are whisked aside; she pops out of the window with the suddenness of Punch, leans far out with her head upside down, at the risk of her neck, trying to watch them even after they have entered the hotel. Laughter of MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY heard at left. LADY CREECH waves her hand as if signalling in that direction and withdraws from window.]

[Enter HORACE and MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY from the garden, he carrying her parasol and looking into her eyes. She is laughing.]

[Enter LADY CREECH< from the hotel, wildly excited.]

LADY CREECH. Have you seen my brother--where is Lord Hawcastle?

HORACE. On the other side of the hotel, Lady Creech; down there on the last terrace just as far as you can go.

[Exit LADY CREECH down left.]

HORACE. Ah, but you laugh at me, chere Comtesse!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [gently]. It is because I cannot believe you are always serious.

HORACE. Serious? Like a lady to her knight of old, set me some task to prove how serious I am. [Deliriously.] Anything!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Ah, gladly! Complete those odious settlement! Overcome the resistance of this bad man who so trouble your sweet sister!

HORACE. You promise me when it is settled that I may speak to you [becomes suddenly nervous and embarrassed]--that I may speak to you--

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [sweetly]. Yes--speak to me--

HORACE. Speak as--as you must know I want to speak--as I hardly dare--

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [softly, her eyes upon the ground]. Ah, that shall be when you please, dear friend.

HORACE [almost choked with gratitude]. Oh!

[He kisses her hand.]

[HAWCASTLE and LADY CREECH enter from the garden, LADY CREECH talking excitedly.]

[ALMERIC enters through the gates.]

LADY CREECH. I tell you I couldn't hear a word they said, they mumbled their words so. But upon my soul, Hawcastle, if I couldn't hear, didn't I _see_ enough?

HAWCASTLE. Upon my soul, I believe you did.

ALMERIC. Quite a family pow-wow you're havin'.

HAWCASTLE. Is there anything unusual in the village?

ALMERIC. Ra-ther! Carabiniere all over the shop--still huntin' that bandit feller.

LADY CREECH. Don't mumble your words!

ALMERIC [shouting]. Lookin' for a bally bandit.

[She screams faintly.]

HAWCASTLE. Be quiet!

ALMERIC. He's still in this neighborhood, they think.

LADY CREECH [to HAWCASTLE]. What did I tell you? Now, how long--

HAWCASTLE. You shall not repeat one word of what you saw. Almeric, find your betrothed and ask her to come here.

ALMERIC. Rumbo! I don't mind, pater!

[Exit into the hotel.]

HORACE. What's the row?

HAWCASTLE. My dear young man, I congratulate you that you and your sister need no longer submit to an odious dictation.

[Enter PIKE briskly from the hotel.]

PIKE [as he enters, genially]. Looks to me like it was going to clear up cold.

[LADY CREECH haughtily stalks off into the garden.]

HAWCASTLE [pleasantly]. Good-afternoon, Mr. Pike.

PIKE [going to the motor]. Howdy!

[Begins touching different parts of the engine.]

[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY and HORACE haughtily follow LADY CREECH.]

HAWCASTLE [suavely, to PIKE]. Mr. Pike, it is an immense pity that there should have been any misunderstanding in the matter of your ward's betrothal.

PIKE [looking up for a moment, mildly]. Oh, I wouldn't call it a misunderstanding.

HAWCASTLE. It would ill become a father to press upon the subject of his son's merits--

PIKE [plaintively]. I don't want to talk about _him_ with you--I don't want to hurt your feelings.

HAWCASTLE. Perhaps I might better put it on the ground of your ward's wishes--of certain advantages of position which it is her ambition to attain.

PIKE [troubled]. I can't talk about it with anybody but her.

[Enter MARIANO from the hotel with a letter on a tray. Goes to PIKE.]

HAWCASTLE. There is another matter--

[PIKE stands examining envelope of the letter in profound thought.]

I fear I do not have your attention.

[MARIANO goes into the hotel.]

PIKE [looking up]. Go ahead!

HAWCASTLE. There is _another_ matter to which I may wish to call your attention.

PIKE [genially]. Oh, I'll talk about anything _else_ with you.

HAWCASTLE [suavely]. This is a question distinctly different [with a glance at the hotel, his voice growing somewhat threatening]--distinctly!

[ETHEL enters from the hotel.]

ETHEL [to HAWCASTLE, in a troubled voice]. You wished me to come here.

HAWCASTLE [going to her and taking her hand]. My child, I wish you to have another chat with our strangely prejudiced friend on the subject so near to all our hearts. And I wish to tell you that I see light breaking through our clouds. Even if he prove obdurate, do not be downcast--all will be well.

[Turns and goes out into the garden, his voice coming back in benign, fatherly tones.]

All will be well!

[PIKE stands regarding ETHEL, who does not look up at him.]

PIKE [gently]. I'm glad you've come, Miss Ethel. I've got something here I want to read to you.

ETHEL [coldly]. I did not come to hear you read.

PIKE. When I got your letter at home I wrote to Jim Cooley, our vice-consul at London, to look up the records of these Hawcastle folks and write to me here about how they stand in their own community.

ETHEL [astounded]. What!

PIKE. What's thought of them by the best citizens, and so on.

ETHEL [enraged]. You had the audacity--_you_--to pry into the affairs of the Earl of Hawcastle!

PIKE. Why, I'd 'a' done that--I wouldn't 'a' stopped at anything--I'd' 'a' done that if it had been the Governor of Indiana himself!

ETHEL. You didn't consider it indelicate to write to strangers about my intimate affairs?

PIKE [placatingly]. Why, Jim Cooley's home-folks! His office used to be right next to mine in Kokomo.

ETHEL. It's monstrous--and when _they_ find what you've done--Oh, hadn't you shamed me enough without this?

PIKE. I expect this letter'll show who ought to be ashamed. Now just let's sit down here and try to work things out together.

ETHEL [with a slight, bitter laugh]. "Work things out together!"

PIKE. I'm sorry--for _you_, I mean. But I don't see any other way to do it, except--together. Won't you?

[She moves slowly forward and sits at extreme left of the bench. He watches her, noticing how far she withdraws from him, bows his head humbly, with a sad smile, then sits, not quite at the extreme right of the bench, but near it.]

PIKE. I haven't opened the letter yet. I want you to read it first, but I ought to tell you there's probably things in it'll hurt your feelings, sort of, mebbe.

ETHEL [icily]. How?

PIKE. Well, I haven't much of a doubt but Jim'll have some statements in it that'll show you I'm right about these people. If he's got the facts, I _know_ he will.

ETHEL. _How_ do you know it?

PIKE. Because I've had experience enough of life--

ETHEL. In Kokomo?

PIKE. Yes, ma'am! there's just as many kinds of people in Kokomo as there is in Pekin, and I didn't serve a term in the legislature without learning to pick underhand men at sight. Now that Earl, let alone his havin' a bad eye--his ways are altogether too much on the stripe of T. Cuthbert Bentley's to suit me.

[He opens the envelope slowly, continuing.]

T. Cuthbert was a Chicago gentleman with a fur-lined overcoat. He opened up a bank in our town, and when he caught the Canadian express, three months later, all he left in Kokomo was the sign on the front door. That was _painted_ on. And as for the son. But there--I don't know as I have a call to say more.

[Takes the letter from the envelope.]

Here's the letter; read it for yourself.

[Gives it to her, watching her as she reads.]

ETHEL [reading]. "Dear Dan: The Earldom of Hawcastle is one of the oldest in the Kingdom, and the St. Aubyns have distinguished themselves in the forefront of English battles from Agincourt and Crecy to Sebastopol.

[She reads this in a ringing voice and glances at him.]

[PIKE looks puzzled and depressed.]

"The present holder of the title came into it unexpectedly through a series of accidental deaths. He was a younger son's younger son, and had spent some years in Russia in business--what, I do not know--under another name. I suppose he assumed it that the historic name of St. Aubyn might not be tarnished by association with trade. He has spent so much of his life out of England that it is difficult to find out a great deal about him. Nothing here in his English record is seriously against him; though everything he has is mortgaged over its value, the entail having been broken.

[ETHEL pauses and looks at PIKE, who, much disturbed, rises, and crosses the stage.]

"As to his son, the Honorable Almeric, there's no objection alleged against his character. That's all I've been able to learn."

[She finishes with an air of triumphant finality, and rises with a laugh.]

A terrible indictment! So that was what you counted on to convince me of my mistake?

PIKE [distressed]. Yes--it _was_!

ETHEL. Do you assert there is _one_ word in this seriously discreditable to the reputation of Lord Hawcastle or Mr. St. Aubyn?

PIKE [humbly]. No.

ETHEL. And you remember, it is the testimony offered by your own friend [scornfully]--by your own detective!

PIKE [ruefully]. Oh, if I wanted a detective I wouldn't get Jim Cooley--at least, not any _more_!

[His attitude is thoroughly crestfallen.]

ETHEL [triumphantly, almost graciously]. I shall tell Lord Hawcastle that you will be ready to take up the matter of the settlement the moment his solicitor arrives.

PIKE. No, I wouldn't do that.

ETHEL [in a challenging voice]. Why not?

PIKE [doggedly]. Because I won't take up the matter of settlements with him or any one else.

ETHEL [angrily]. Do you mean you cannot see what a humiliation your interference has brought upon you in this?

PIKE. No; I see that plain enough.

ETHEL. Have you, after this, any further objections to my alliance with Mr. St. Aubyn?

PIKE. It ain't an alliance with Mr. St. Aubyn that you're after.

ETHEL. Then what am I [pauses and lays scornful emphasis on the next word] _after_?

[Illustration: "YOU'RE AFTER SOMETHING THERE ISN'T ANYTHING TO"]

PIKE [slowly]. You're after something there isn't anything to. If I'd let you buy what you want to with your money and your whole life, you'd find it as empty as the morning after Judgment Day.

[She turns from him, smiling and superior.]

You think because I'm a jay country lawyer I don't understand it and couldn't understand _you_! Why, we've got just the same thing at home. There was little Annie Hoffmeyer. Her pa was a carpenter and doing well. But Annie couldn't get into the Kokomo Ladies' Literary Club, and her name didn't show up in the society column four or five times every Saturday morning, so she got her pa to give her the money to marry Artie Seymour, the minister's son--and a _regular_ minister's son he was! Almost broke Hoffmeyer's heart, but he let her have her way and went in debt and bought them a little house on North Main Street. That was two years ago. Annie's workin' at the depoe candy-stand now and Artie's workin' at the hotel bar--in front--drinking up what's left of old Hoffmeyer's--settlement!

ETHEL [outraged]. And you say you understand--you who couple the name of a tippling yokel with that of a St. Aubyn--a gentleman of distinction.

PIKE. Distinction? I didn't know he was distinguished.

ETHEL [in a ringing voice]. His ancestors have fought with glory on every field of battle from Crecy and Agincourt to the Crimea.

PIKE. But you won't _see_ much of his _ancestors_.

ETHEL. He bears their name.

PIKE [with authority and dignity]. Yes--and it's the _name_ you want. Nobody could look at you and not know it wasn't _him_. It's the _name_! And I'd let you buy it if it would make you happy--if you didn't have to take the people with it.

[A deepening of color in the light shows that it has grown to be late afternoon, near sunset.]

ETHEL [angrily]. The "people"?

PIKE. Yes; the whole gang. Can't you see how they're counting on it? It's in their faces, in their ways! This Earl--don't you see he's counting on living on you? Do you think the son would get that settlement? Why, a Terre Hut pickpocket could get it away from _him_--let alone his old man! What do _you_ think would become of the "settlement"?

ETHEL. Part of it would go to the restoration of Hawcastle Hall and part to Glenwood Priory.

PIKE. Glenwood Priory?

ETHEL. That is part of the estate where Almeric and I will live until Lord Hawcastle's death.

PIKE. Then mighty little settlement would come around "Glenwood Priory"!

[Speaks the name as though grimly amused, and continues.]

And this old lady--this Mrs. Creech you been travelling with--

ETHEL [sharply]. Lady Creech!

PIKE. All right! Don't you think _she's_ counting on it? And this French lady that's with them; isn't she trying to land your brother? The whole crowd is on the track of John Simpson's money.

ETHEL. Silence! You have no right to traduce them. Do you place no value upon heredity, upon high birth?

PIKE. Why, I think so much of it that I know John Simpson's daughter doesn't need anybody else's to help her out.

[He comes toward her, looking at her with honest admiration.]

She's fine enough and I think she's sweet enough--and I know from the way she goes for me that she's _brave_ enough--to stand on her own feet!

ETHEL. This is beside the point; I know exactly what I want in life--[she has been somewhat moved by his last speech, is agitated, and a little breathless]--and I could not change now if it were otherwise. I gave Almeric my promise, it was forever, and I shall keep it.

PIKE. But you can't; I'm not going to let you.

ETHEL. I throw your interference to the winds. I shall absolutely disregard it. I shall marry without your consent.

PIKE [looking at her steadily]. Do you think _they'd_ let you?

ETHEL [in same tone]. I think _you'll_ let me [laughing], especially after this terrible letter.

PIKE. By-the-way, did you finish it?

[ETHEL looks at the letter, which she has continued to hold in her hand.]

ETHEL. I think so. [Turns the page.] No--it says "over."

[She turns the sheet--looks at it attentively for a moment--looks up, casts a quick glance of astonishment at PIKE.]

PIKE. Well, read it, please!

ETHEL. It appears to concern a matter quite personal to yourself.

[Embarrassed, assuming carelessness. Turns toward left as if to leave, replacing the letter in the envelope.]

PIKE [advancing to her, smiling]. I don't think I've got any secrets.

ETHEL [coldly]. Please remember, I have not read anything on the last page.

PIKE. Well, neither have I.

[Reaching his hand for the letter.]

ETHEL [more embarrassed]. Oh!

[She drops the letter on the bench.]

[PIKE picks it up and walks slowly toward right, taking it from envelope. She stands looking after him with breathless amazement, far from hostile, yet half turned as if to go at once. PIKE, taking the letter out of the envelope, suddenly looks back at her. At this she is flustered and starts, but halts at sound of the "Fishermen's Song" in the distance. The sunset is deepening to golden red; the "Fishermen's Song" begins with mandolins and guitars, and then a number of voices are heard together.]

ETHEL. Listen: those are the fishermen coming home.

[PIKE stands in arrested attitude, not having looked at the letter. The song, beginning faintly, grows louder, then slowly dies away in the distance. The two stand listening in deepening twilight.]

PIKE [as the voices cease to be heard]. It's mighty pretty, but it's kind of foreign and lonesome, too. [With a sad half-chuckle.] I'd rather hear something that sounded more like home. [A growing tremulousness in his voice.] I expect you've about forgot everything like that, haven't you?

ETHEL [gently]. Yes.

PIKE. Seems funny, now; but out on the ocean, coming here, I kept kind of looking forward to hearing you sing. I knew how high your pa had you educated in music, and, like the old fool I was, I kept thinking you'd sing for me some evening--"Sweet Genevieve" mebbe. You know it--don't you?

ETHEL [slowly]. "Sweet Genevieve?" I used to--but it's rather old-fashioned and common, isn't it?

PIKE. I expect so; I reckon mebbe that's the reason I like it so much.

[With an apologetic and pathetic laugh.]

Yes'm, it's my favorite. I couldn't--I couldn't get you to sing it for me before I go back home--could I?

ETHEL. I--I think not.

[She looks at him thoughtfully, then goes slowly into the hotel.]

[PIKE sighs, and begins to read the last page of the letter.]

PIKE [reading]. "I am sorry old man Simpson's daughter thinks of buying a title. Somehow I have a notion that that may hit you, Dan.

[Poignant dismay and awe are expressed in his voice as he continues.]

"I haven't forgotten how you always kept that picture of her on your desk. The old man thought so much of you I had an idea he hoped she'd come back some day and marry a man from home."

I don't wonder she said she hadn't read it!

[His face begins to light with radiant amazement.]

But she _had_--and she didn't go away--that is, not _right_ away!

[LORD HAWCASTLE and HORACE enter from the hotel.]

HORACE [speaking as they enter]. But, Lord Hawcastle, Ethel says Mr. Pike positively refuses.

HAWCASTLE. Leave him to me. Within ten minutes he will be as meek as a nun.

[HORACE goes into the hotel.]

My dear Pike, there is a certain question--

PIKE [in his mildest tone]. I don't want to seem rough with you, but I meant what I said.

HAWCASTLE. Imagining I did not mean _that_ question--

PIKE. Then it's all right.

HAWCASTLE. Late this afternoon I developed a great anxiety concerning the penalty prescribed by Italian law for those unfortunate and impulsive individuals who connive at the escape or concealment--[he speaks with significant emphasis and a glance at the hotel, where lights begin to appear in the windows]--of certain other unfortunates who may be, to speak vulgarly, wanted--by the police.

PIKE [coolly]. You're anxious about that, are you?

HAWCASTLE. So deeply that I ascertained the penalty for it. You may confirm my information by appealing to the nearest carabiniere--strange to say, many of them are very near. The minimum penalty for one whose kind heart has thus betrayed him--[he turns up sharply toward the lighted windows of hotel, then sharply again to PIKE, his voice lifting]--is two years' imprisonment, and Italian prisons, I am credibly informed, are quite ferociously unpleasant.

PIKE [gently]. Well, being in jail _any_ place ain't much like an Elks' carnival.

HAWCASTLE. There would be no escape, even for a citizen of your admirable country, if his complicity were established, especially if he happened to be--as it were--caught in the act!

PIKE [grimly]. Talk plain; talk plain.

HAWCASTLE. My dear young friend, imagine that a badly wanted man appears upon the pergola here and makes an appeal of I know not what nature to one of your fellow-countrymen, who--for the purposes of argument--is at work upon this car. Say that the too-amiable American conceals the fugitive under the automobile, and afterward, with the connivance of a friend, deceives the officers of the law and shelters the criminal, say in a room of that lower suite yonder.

[His voice shows growing excitement as a man's shadow appears on the shade of the window nearest the door.]

Imagine, for instance, that the shadow which at this moment appears on the curtain were that of the wanted man--_then_, would you not agree that a moderate and reasonable request of your fellow-countryman might be acceded to?

PIKE [swallowing painfully]. What would be the nature of that request?

HAWCASTLE. It would concern a certain alliance; _might_ concern a certain settlement.

PIKE. If the request were refused, what would the consequences be?

HAWCASTLE. Two years, at least, for the American, and the friend who had been his accessory. Altogether I should consider it a disastrous situation.

PIKE [thoughtfully]. Yes; looks like it.

HAWCASTLE [with sharp significance]. If this fellow-countryman of yours were assured that the law would be made to take its course if a favorable answer were not received--say, by ten o'clock to-night--what, in your opinion, would his answer be?

PIKE [plaintively]. Well, it would all depend upon which of my countrymen you caught. If it depended on the one I know best, he'd tell you he'd see you in _hell_ first!

[The two remain staring fixedly at each other as the curtain slowly descends.] _

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