Act
II
After dinner on the terrace at the Star and Garter, Richmond. Cloudless summer night; nothing disturbs the stillness except from time to time the long trajectory of a distant train and the measured clucking of oars coming up from the Thames in the valley below. The dinner is over; and three of the eight chairs are empty. Sir Patrick, with his back to the view, is at the head of the square table with Ridgeon. The two chairs opposite them are empty. On their right come, first, a vacant chair, and then one very fully occupied by B.B., who basks blissfully in the moonbeams. On their left, Schutzmacher and Walpole. The entrance to the hotel is on their right, behind B.B. The five men are silently enjoying their coffee and cigarettes, full of food, and not altogether void of wine.
Mrs. Dubedat, wrapped up for departure, comes in. They rise, except Sir Patrick; but she takes one of the vacant places at the foot of the table, next B.B.; and they sit down again.
Mrs. Dubedat
As she enters. Louis will be here presently. He is showing Dr. Blenkinsop how to work the telephone. She sits. Oh, I am so sorry we have to go. It seems such a shame, this beautiful night. And we have enjoyed ourselves so much.
Ridgeon
I don’t believe another half-hour would do Mr. Dubedat a bit of harm.
Sir Patrick
Come now, Colly, come! come! none of that. You take your man home, Mrs. Dubedat; and get him to bed before eleven.
B.B.
Yes, yes. Bed before eleven. Quite right, quite right. Sorry to lose you, my dear lady; but Sir Patrick’s orders are the laws of—er—of Tyre and Sidon.
Walpole
Let me take you home in my motor.
Sir Patrick
No. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Walpole. Your motor will take Mr. and Mrs. Dubedat to the station, and quite far enough too for an open carriage at night.
Mrs. Dubedat
Oh, I am sure the train is best.
Ridgeon
Well, Mrs. Dubedat, we have had a most enjoyable evening.
Walpole
Most enjoyable.
B.B.
Delightful. Charming. Unforgettable.
Mrs. Dubedat
With a touch of shy anxiety. What did you think of Louis? Or am I wrong to ask?
Ridgeon
Wrong! Why, we are all charmed with him.
Walpole
Delighted.
B.B.
Most happy to have met him. A privilege, a real privilege.
Sir Patrick
Grunts. !
Mrs. Dubedat
Quickly. Sir Patrick: are you uneasy about him?
Sir Patrick
Discreetly. I admire his drawings greatly, ma’am.
Mrs. Dubedat
Yes; but I meant—
Ridgeon
You shall go away quite happy. He’s worth saving. He must and shall be saved.
Mrs. Dubedat rises and gasps with delight, relief, and gratitude. They all rise except Sir Patrick and Schutzmacher, and come reassuringly to her.
B.B.
Certainly, cer-tainly.
Walpole
There’s no real difficulty, if only you know what to do.
Mrs. Dubedat
Oh, how can I ever thank you! From this night I can begin to be happy at last. You don’t know what I feel.
She sits down in tears. They crowd about her to console her.
B.B.
My dear lady: come come! come come! Very persuasively. come come!
Walpole
Don’t mind us. Have a good cry.
Ridgeon
No: don’t cry. Your husband had better not know that we’ve been talking about him.
Mrs. Dubedat
Quickly pulling herself together. No, of course not. Please don’t mind me. What a glorious thing it must be to be a doctor! They laugh. Don’t laugh. You don’t know what you’ve done for me. I never knew until now how deadly afraid I was—how I had come to dread the worst. I never dared let myself know. But now the relief has come: now I know.
Louis Dubedat comes from the hotel, in his overcoat, his throat wrapped in a shawl. He is a slim young man of 23, physically still a stripling, and pretty, though not effeminate. He has turquoise blue eyes, and a trick of looking you straight in the face with them, which, combined with a frank smile, is very engaging. Although he is all nerves, and very observant and quick of apprehension, he is not in the least shy. He is younger than Jennifer; but he patronizes her as a matter of course. The doctors do not put him out in the least: neither Sir Patrick’s years nor Bloomfield Bonington’s majesty have the smallest apparent effect on him: he is as natural as a cat: he moves among men as most men move among things, though he is intentionally making himself agreeable to them on this occasion. Like all people who can be depended on to take care of themselves, he is welcome company; and his artist’s power of appealing to the imagination gains him credit for all sorts of qualities and powers, whether he possesses them or not.
Louis
Pulling on his gloves behind Ridgeon’s chair. Now, Jinny-Gwinny: the motor has come round.
Ridgeon
Why do you let him spoil your beautiful name like that, Mrs. Dubedat?
Mrs. Dubedat
Oh, on grand occasions I am Jennifer.
B.B.
You are a bachelor: you do not understand these things, Ridgeon. Look at me They look. I also have two names. In moments of domestic worry, I am simple Ralph. When the sun shines in the home, I am Beedle-Deedle-Dumkins. Such is married life! Mr. Dubedat: may I ask you to do me a favor before you go. Will you sign your name to this menu card, under the sketch you have made of me?
Walpole
Yes; and mine too, if you will be so good.
Louis
Certainly. He sits down and signs the cards.
Mrs. Dubedat
Won’t you sign Dr. Schutzmacher’s for him, Louis?
Louis
I don’t think Dr. Schutzmacher is pleased with his portrait. I’ll tear it up. He reaches across the table for Schutzmacher’s menu card, and is about to tear it. Schutzmacher makes no sign.
Ridgeon
No, no: if Loony doesn’t want it, I do.
Louis
I’ll sign it for you with pleasure. He signs and hands it to Ridgeon. I’ve just been making a little note of the river tonight: it will work up into something good. He shows a pocket sketchbook. I think I’ll call it the Silver Danube.
B.B.
Ah, charming, charming.
Walpole
Very sweet. You’re a nailer at pastel.
Louis coughs, first out of modesty, then from tuberculosis.
Sir Patrick
Now then, Mr. Dubedat: you’ve had enough of the night air. Take him home, ma’am.
Mrs. Dubedat
Yes. Come, Louis.
Ridgeon
Never fear. Never mind. I’ll make that cough all right.
B.B.
We will stimulate the phagocytes. With tender effusion, shaking her hand. Good night, Mrs. Dubedat. Good night. Good night.
Walpole
If the phagocytes fail, come to me. I’ll put you right.
Louis
Good night, Sir Patrick. Happy to have met you.
Sir Patrick
’Night. Half a grunt.
Mrs. Dubedat
Good night, Sir Patrick.
Sir Patrick
Cover yourself well up. Don’t think your lungs are made of iron because they’re better than his. Good night.
Mrs. Dubedat
Thank you. Thank you. Nothing hurts me. Good night.
Louis goes out through the hotel without noticing Schutzmacher. Mrs. Dubedat hesitates, then bows to him. Schutzmacher rises and bows formally, German fashion. She goes out, attended by Ridgeon. The rest resume their seats, ruminating or smoking quietly.
B.B.
Harmoniously. Dee-lightful couple! Charming woman! Gifted lad! Remarkable talent! Graceful outlines! Perfect evening! Great success! Interesting case! Glorious night! Exquisite scenery! Capital dinner! Stimulating conversation! Restful outing! Good wine! Happy ending! Touching gratitude! Lucky Ridgeon—
Ridgeon
Returning. What’s that? Calling me, B.B.? He goes back to his seat next Sir Patrick.
B.B.
No, no. Only congratulating you on a most successful evening! Enchanting woman! Thorough breeding! Gentle nature! Refined—
Blenkinsop comes from the hotel and takes the empty chair next Ridgeon.
Blenkinsop
I’m so sorry to have left you like this, Ridgeon; but it was a telephone message from the police. They’ve found half a milkman at our level crossing with a prescription of mine in its pocket. Where’s Mr. Dubedat?
Ridgeon
Gone.
Blenkinsop
Rising, very pale. Gone!
Ridgeon
Just this moment—
Blenkinsop
Perhaps I could overtake him—he rushes into the hotel.
Walpole
Calling after him. He’s in the motor, man, miles off. You can—giving it up. No use.
Ridgeon
They’re really very nice people. I confess I was afraid the husband would turn out an appalling bounder. But he’s almost as charming in his way as she is in hers. And there’s no mistake about his being a genius. It’s something to have got a case really worth saving. Somebody else will have to go; but at all events it will be easy to find a worse man.
Sir Patrick
How do you know?
Ridgeon
Come now, Sir Paddy, no growling. Have something more to drink.
Sir Patrick
No, thank you.
Walpole
Do you see anything wrong with Dubedat, B.B.?
B.B.
Oh, a charming young fellow. Besides, after all, what could be wrong with him? Look at him. What could be wrong with him?
Sir Patrick
There are two things that can be wrong with any man. One of them is a cheque. The other is a woman. Until you know that a man’s sound on these two points, you know nothing about him.
B.B.
Ah, cynic, cynic!
Walpole
He’s all right as to the cheque, for a while at all events. He talked to me quite frankly before dinner as to the pressure of money difficulties on an artist. He says he has no vices and is very economical, but that there’s one extravagance he can’t afford and yet can’t resist; and that is dressing his wife prettily. So I said, bang plump out, “Let me lend you twenty pounds, and pay me when your ship comes home.” He was really very nice about it. He took it like a man; and it was a pleasure to see how happy it made him, poor chap.
B.B.
Who has listened to Walpole with growing perturbation. But—but—but—when was this, may I ask?
Walpole
When I joined you that time down by the river.
B.B.
But, my dear Walpole, he had just borrowed ten pounds from me.
Walpole
What!
Sir Patrick
Grunts. !
B.B.
Indulgently. Well, well, it was really hardly borrowing; for he said heaven only knew when he could pay me. I couldn’t refuse. It appears that Mrs. Dubedat has taken a sort of fancy to me—
Walpole
Quickly. No: it was to me.
B.B.
Certainly not. Your name was never mentioned between us. He is so wrapped up in his work that he has to leave her a good deal alone; and the poor innocent young fellow—he has of course no idea of my position or how busy I am—actually wanted me to call occasionally and talk to her.
Walpole
Exactly what he said to me!
B.B.
Pooh! Pooh pooh! Really, I must say. Much disturbed, he rises and goes up to the balustrade, contemplating the landscape vexedly.
Walpole
Look here, Ridgeon! this is beginning to look serious.
Blenkinsop, very anxious and wretched, but trying to look unconcerned, comes back.
Ridgeon
Well, did you catch him?
Blenkinsop
No. Excuse my running away like that. He sits down at the foot of the table, next Bloomfeld Bonington’s chair.
Walpole
Anything the matter?
Blenkinsop
Oh no. A trifle—something ridiculous. It can’t be helped. Never mind.
Ridgeon
Was it anything about Dubedat?
Blenkinsop
Almost breaking down. I ought to keep it to myself, I know. I can’t tell you, Ridgeon, how ashamed I am of dragging my miserable poverty to your dinner after all your kindness. It’s not that you won’t ask me again; but it’s so humiliating. And I did so look forward to one evening in my dress clothes (They’re still presentable, you see) with all my troubles left behind, just like old times.
Ridgeon
But what has happened?
Blenkinsop
Oh, nothing. It’s too ridiculous. I had just scraped up four shillings for this little outing; and it cost me one-and-fourpence to get here. Well, Dubedat asked me to lend him half-a-crown to tip the chambermaid of the room his wife left her wraps in, and for the cloakroom. He said he only wanted it for five minutes, as she had his purse. So of course I lent it to him. And he’s forgotten to pay me. I’ve just tuppence to get back with.
Ridgeon
Oh, never mind that—
Blenkinsop
Stopping him resolutely. No: I know what you’re going to say; but I won’t take it. I’ve never borrowed a penny; and I never will. I’ve nothing left but my friends; and I won’t sell them. If none of you were to be able to meet me without being afraid that my civility was leading up to the loan of five shillings, there would be an end of everything for me. I’ll take your old clothes, Colly, sooner than disgrace you by talking to you in the street in my own; but I won’t borrow money. I’ll train it as far as the twopence will take me; and I’ll tramp the rest.
Walpole
You’ll do the whole distance in my motor. They are all greatly relieved; and Walpole hastens to get away from the painful subject by adding. Did he get anything out of you, Mr. Schutzmacher?
Schutzmacher
Shakes his head in a most expressive negative.
Walpole
You didn’t appreciate his drawing, I think.
Schutzmacher
Oh yes I did. I should have liked very much to have kept the sketch and got it autographed.
B.B.
But why didn’t you?
Schutzmacher
Well, the fact is, when I joined Dubedat after his conversation with Mr. Walpole, he said the Jews were the only people who knew anything about art, and that though he had to put up with your Philistine twaddle, as he called it, it was what I said about the drawings that really pleased him. He also said that his wife was greatly struck with my knowledge, and that she always admired Jews. Then he asked me to advance him fifty pounds on the security of the drawings.
All exclaiming together:
B.B.
No, no. Positively! Seriously!
Walpole
What! Another fifty!
Blenkinsop
Think of that!
Sir Patrick
Grunts. !
Schutzmacher
Of course I couldn’t lend money to a stranger like that.
B.B.
I envy you the power to say No, Mr. Schutzmacher. Of course, I knew I oughtn’t to lend money to a young fellow in that way; but I simply hadn’t the nerve to refuse. I couldn’t very well, you know, could I?
Schutzmacher
I don’t understand that. I felt that I couldn’t very well lend it.
Walpole
What did he say?
Schutzmacher
Well, he made a very uncalled-for remark about a Jew not understanding the feelings of a gentleman. I must say you Gentiles are very hard to please. You say we are no gentlemen when we lend money; and when we refuse to lend it you say just the same. I didn’t mean to behave badly. As I told him, I might have lent it to him if he had been a Jew himself.
Sir Patrick
With a grunt. And what did he say to that?
Schutzmacher
Oh, he began trying to persuade me that he was one of the chosen people—that his artistic faculty showed it, and that his name was as foreign as my own. He said he didn’t really want fifty pounds; that he was only joking; that all he wanted was a couple of sovereigns.
B.B.
No, no, Mr. Schutzmacher. You invented that last touch. Seriously, now?
Schutzmacher
No. You can’t improve on Nature in telling stories about gentlemen like Mr. Dubedat.
Blenkinsop
You certainly do stand by one another, you chosen people, Mr. Schutzmacher.
Schutzmacher
Not at all. Personally, I like Englishmen better than Jews, and always associate with them. That’s only natural, because, as I am a Jew, there’s nothing interesting in a Jew to me, whereas there is always something interesting and foreign in an Englishman. But in money matters it’s quite different. You see, when an Englishman borrows, all he knows or cares is that he wants money; and he’ll sign anything to get it, without in the least understanding it, or intending to carry out the agreement if it turns out badly for him. In fact, he thinks you a cad if you ask him to carry it out under such circumstances. Just like the Merchant of Venice, you know. But if a Jew makes an agreement, he means to keep it and expects you to keep it. If he wants money for a time, he borrows it and knows he must pay it at the end of the time. If he knows he can’t pay, he begs it as a gift.
Ridgeon
Come, Loony! do you mean to say that Jews are never rogues and thieves?
Schutzmacher
Oh, not at all. But I was not talking of criminals. I was comparing honest Englishmen with honest Jews.
One of the hotel maids, a pretty, fair-haired woman of about 25, comes from the hotel, rather furtively. She accosts Ridgeon.
The Maid
I beg your pardon, sir—
Ridgeon
Eh?
The Maid
I beg pardon, sir. It’s not about the hotel. I’m not allowed to be on the terrace; and I should be discharged if I were seen speaking to you, unless you were kind enough to say you called me to ask whether the motor has come back from the station yet.
Walpole
Has it?
The Maid
Yes, sir.
Ridgeon
Well, what do you want?
The Maid
Would you mind, sir, giving me the address of the gentleman that was with you at dinner?
Ridgeon
Sharply. Yes, of course I should mind very much. You have no right to ask.
The Maid
Yes, sir, I know it looks like that. But what am I to do?
Sir Patrick
What’s the matter with you?
The Maid
Nothing, sir. I want the address: that’s all.
B.B.
You mean the young gentleman?
The Maid
Yes, sir: that went to catch the train with the woman he brought with him.
Ridgeon
The woman! Do you mean the lady who dined here? the gentleman’s wife?
The Maid
Don’t believe them, sir. She can’t be his wife. I’m his wife.
In amazed remonstrance:
B.B.
My good girl!
Ridgeon
You his wife!
Walpole
What! what’s that? Oh, this is getting perfectly fascinating, Ridgeon.
The Maid
I could run upstairs and get you my marriage lines in a minute, sir, if you doubt my word. He’s Mr. Louis Dubedat, isn’t he?
Ridgeon
Yes.
The Maid
Well, sir, you may believe me or not; but I’m the lawful Mrs. Dubedat.
Sir Patrick
And why aren’t you living with your husband?
The Maid
We couldn’t afford it, sir. I had thirty pounds saved; and we spent it all on our honeymoon in three weeks, and a lot more that he borrowed. Then I had to go back into service, and he went to London to get work at his drawing; and he never wrote me a line or sent me an address. I never saw nor heard of him again until I caught sight of him from the window going off in the motor with that woman.
Sir Patrick
Well, that’s two wives to start with.
B.B.
Now upon my soul I don’t want to be uncharitable; but really I’m beginning to suspect that our young friend is rather careless.
Sir Patrick
Beginning to think! How long will it take you, man, to find out that he’s a damned young blackguard?
Blenkinsop
Oh, that’s severe, Sir Patrick, very severe. Of course it’s bigamy; but still he’s very young; and she’s very pretty. Mr. Walpole: may I sponge on you for another of those nice cigarettes of yours? He changes his seat for the one next Walpole.
Walpole
Certainly. He feels in his pockets. Oh bother! Where—? Suddenly remembering. I say: I recollect now: I passed my cigarette case to Dubedat and he didn’t return it. It was a gold one.
The Maid
He didn’t mean any harm: he never thinks about things like that, sir. I’ll get it back for you, sir, if you’ll tell me where to find him.
Ridgeon
What am I to do? Shall I give her the address or not?
Sir Patrick
Give her your own address; and then we’ll see. To the maid. You’ll have to be content with that for the present, my girl. Ridgeon gives her his card. What’s your name?
The Maid
Minnie Tinwell, sir.
Sir Patrick
Well, you write him a letter to care of this gentleman; and it will be sent on. Now be off with you.
The Maid
Thank you, sir. I’m sure you wouldn’t see me wronged. Thank you all, gentlemen; and excuse the liberty.
She goes into the hotel. They watch her in silence.
Ridgeon
When she is gone. Do you realize, chaps, that we have promised Mrs. Dubedat to save this fellow’s life?
Blenkinsop
What’s the matter with him?
Ridgeon
Tuberculosis.
Blenkinsop
Interested. And can you cure that?
Ridgeon
I believe so.
Blenkinsop
Then I wish you’d cure me. My right lung is touched, I’m sorry to say.
All together:
Ridgeon
What! Your lung is going?
B.B.
My dear Blenkinsop, what do you tell me? Full of concern for Blenkinsop he comes back from the balustrade.
Sir Patrick
Eh? Eh? What’s that?
Walpole
Hullo, you mustn’t neglect this, you know.
Blenkinsop
Putting his fingers in his ears. No, no: it’s no use. I know what you’re going to say: I’ve said it often to others. I can’t afford to take care of myself; and there’s an end of it. If a fortnight’s holiday would save my life, I’d have to die. I shall get on as others have to get on. We can’t all go to St. Moritz or to Egypt, you know, Sir Ralph. Don’t talk about it.
Embarrassed silence.
Sir Patrick
Grunts and looks hard at Ridgeon. !
Schutzmacher
Looking at his watch and rising. I must go. It’s been a very pleasant evening, Colly. You might let me have my portrait if you don’t mind. I’ll send Mr. Dubedat that couple of sovereigns for it.
Ridgeon
Giving him the menu card. Oh don’t do that, Loony. I don’t think he’d like that.
Schutzmacher
Well, of course I shan’t if you feel that way about it. But I don’t think you understand Dubedat. However, perhaps that’s because I’m a Jew. Good night, Dr. Blenkinsop shaking hands.
Blenkinsop
Good night, sir—I mean—Good night.
Schutzmacher
Waving his hand to the rest. Goodnight, everybody.
Walpole, B.B., Sir Patrick, Ridgeon
Good night.
B.B. repeats the salutation several times, in varied musical tones. Schutzmacher goes out.
Sir Patrick
It’s time for us all to move. He rises and comes between Blenkinsop and Walpole. Ridgeon also rises. Mr. Walpole: take Blenkinsop home: he’s had enough of the open air cure for tonight. Have you a thick overcoat to wear in the motor, Dr. Blenkinsop?
Blenkinsop
Oh, they’ll give me some brown paper in the hotel; and a few thicknesses of brown paper across the chest are better than any fur coat.
Walpole
Well, come along. Good night, Colly. You’re coming with us, aren’t you, B.B.?
B.B.
Yes: I’m coming. Walpole and Blenkinsop go into the hotel. Good night, my dear Ridgeon shaking hands affectionately. Don’t let us lose sight of your interesting patient and his very charming wife. We must not judge him too hastily, you know. With unction. Gooooooood-night, Paddy. Bless you, dear old chap. Sir Patrick utters a formidable grunt. B.B. laughs and pats him indulgently on the shoulder. Good night. Good night. Good night. Good night. He good nights himself into the hotel.
The others have meanwhile gone without ceremony. Ridgeon and Sir Patrick are left alone together. Ridgeon, deep in thought, comes down to Sir Patrick.
Sir Patrick
Well, Mr. Savior of Lives: which is it to be? that honest decent man Blenkinsop, or that rotten blackguard of an artist, eh?
Ridgeon
It’s not an easy case to judge, is it? Blenkinsop’s an honest decent man; but is he any use? Dubedat’s a rotten blackguard; but he’s a genuine source of pretty and pleasant and good things.
Sir Patrick
What will he be a source of for that poor innocent wife of his, when she finds him out?
Ridgeon
That’s true. Her life will be a hell.
Sir Patrick
And tell me this. Suppose you had this choice put before you: either to go through life and find all the pictures bad but all the men and women good, or to go through life and find all the pictures good and all the men and women rotten. Which would you choose?
Ridgeon
That’s a devilishly difficult question, Paddy. The pictures are so agreeable, and the good people so infernally disagreeable and mischievous, that I really can’t undertake to say offhand which I should prefer to do without.
Sir Patrick
Come come! none of your cleverness with me: I’m too old for it. Blenkinsop isn’t that sort of good man; and you know it.
Ridgeon
It would be simpler if Blenkinsop could paint Dubedat’s pictures.
Sir Patrick
It would be simpler still if Dubedat had some of Blenkinsop’s honesty. The world isn’t going to be made simple for you, my lad: you must take it as it is. You’ve to hold the scales between Blenkinsop and Dubedat. Hold them fairly.
Ridgeon
Well, I’ll be as fair as I can. I’ll put into one scale all the pounds Dubedat has borrowed, and into the other all the half-crowns that Blenkinsop hasn’t borrowed.
Sir Patrick
And you’ll take out of Dubedat’s scale all the faith he has destroyed and the honor he has lost, and you’ll put into Blenkinsop’s scale all the faith he has justified and the honor he has created.
Ridgeon
Come come, Paddy! none of your claptrap with me: I’m too sceptical for it. I’m not at all convinced that the world wouldn’t be a better world if everybody behaved as Dubedat does than it is now that everybody behaves as Blenkinsop does.
Sir Patrick
Then why don’t you behave as Dubedat does?
Ridgeon
Ah, that beats me. That’s the experimental test. Still, it’s a dilemma. It’s a dilemma. You see there’s a complication we haven’t mentioned.
Sir Patrick
What’s that?
Ridgeon
Well, if I let Blenkinsop die, at least nobody can say I did it because I wanted to marry his widow.
Sir Patrick
Eh? What’s that?
Ridgeon
Now if I let Dubedat die, I’ll marry his widow.
Sir Patrick
Perhaps she won’t have you, you know.
Ridgeon
With a self-assured shake of the head. I’ve a pretty good flair for that sort of thing. I know when a woman is interested in me. She is.
Sir Patrick
Well, sometimes a man knows best; and sometimes he knows worst. You’d much better cure them both.
Ridgeon
I can’t. I’m at my limit. I can squeeze in one more case, but not two. I must choose.
Sir Patrick
Well, you must choose as if she didn’t exist: that’s clear.
Ridgeon
Is that clear to you? Mind: it’s not clear to me. She troubles my judgment.
Sir Patrick
To me, it’s a plain choice between a man and a lot of pictures.
Ridgeon
It’s easier to replace a dead man than a good picture.
Sir Patrick
Colly: when you live in an age that runs to pictures and statues and plays and brass bands because its men and women are not good enough to comfort its poor aching soul, you should thank Providence that you belong to a profession which is a high and great profession because its business is to heal and mend men and women.
Ridgeon
In short, as a member of a high and great profession, I’m to kill my patient.
Sir Patrick
Don’t talk wicked nonsense. You can’t kill him. But you can leave him in other hands.
Ridgeon
In B.B.’s, for instance: eh? Looking at him significantly.
Sir Patrick
Demurely facing his look. Sir Ralph Bloomfield Bonington is a very eminent physician.
Ridgeon
He is.
Sir Patrick
I’m going for my hat.
Ridgeon strikes the bell as Sir Patrick makes for the hotel. A waiter comes.
Ridgeon
To the waiter. My bill, please.
Waiter
Yes, sir.
He goes for it.