The Red House Mystery and Other Novels. A. A. Milne
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I heard a noise, so I slipped on some old things hurriedly and came down. (_Fingering his perfectly-tied tie._) But there seems to be nobody here. (_Turns round suddenly to the window._) Ha, who's there? Hands up, blow you (_he ought to swear rather badly here, really_) hands up or I fire!
(_The stage is suddenly plunged into darkness, there is the noise of a struggle, and the lights go on to reveal_ Jasper _by the door covering_ Dick _with his revolver._)
~Jasper.~ Let's have a little light on you. (_Brutally._) Now then, my man, what have you got to say for yourself? Ha! An escaped convict, eh?
~Dick~ (_to himself, in amazement_). Jasper Beeste!
~Jasper.~ So you know my name?
~Dick~ (_in the tones of a man whose whole life has been blighted by the machinations of a false friend_). Yes, Jasper Beeste, I know your name. For two years I have said it to myself every night, when I prayed Heaven that I should meet you again.
~Jasper.~ Again? (_Uneasily._) We have met before?
~Dick~ (_slowly_). We have met before, Jasper Beeste. Since then I have lived a lifetime of misery. You may well fail to recognise me.
_Enter_ Millicent Wilsdon_--in a dressing gown, with her hair over her shoulders, if the county will stand it._
~Millicent~ (_to Jasper_). I couldn't sleep--I heard a noise--I--(_suddenly seeing the other_) Dick! (_She trembles._)
~Dick.~ Millicent! (_He trembles too._)
~Jasper.~ Trayle! (_So does he._)
~Dick~ (_bitterly_). You shrink from me, Millicent. (_With strong common sense._) What is an escaped convict to the beautiful Miss Wilsdon?
~Millicent.~ Dick--I--you--when you were sentenced----
~Dick.~ When I was sentenced--the evidence was black against me, I admit--I wrote and released you from your engagement. You are married now?
~Millicent~ (_throwing herself on a sofa_). Oh, Dick!
~Jasper~ (_recovering himself_). Enough of this. Miss Wilsdon is going to marry me tomorrow.
~Dick.~ To marry _you_! (_He strides over to sofa and pulls Millicent to her feet._) Millicent, look me in the eyes! Do you love him? (_She turns away._) Say "Yes" and I will go back quietly to my prison. (_She raises her eyes to his._) Ha! I thought so! You don't love him! Now then I can speak.
~Jasper~ (_advancing threateningly_). Yes, to your friends, the warders. Millicent, ring the bell.
~Dick~ (_wresting the revolver from his grasp_). Ha, would you? Now stand over there and listen to me. (_He arranges his audience,_ Millicent _on a sofa on the right, Jasper, biting his finger nails, on the left._) Three years ago Lady Wilsdon's diamond necklace was stolen. My flat was searched and the necklace was found in my hatbox. Although I protested my innocence I was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to ten years' penal servitude, followed by fifteen years' police supervision.
~Millicent~ (_raising herself on the sofa_). Dick, you were innocent--I know it. (_She flops back again._)
~Dick.~ I was. But how could I prove it? I went to prison. For a year black despair gnawed at my heart. And then something happened. The prisoner in the cell next to mine tried to communicate with me by means of taps. We soon arranged a system and held conversations together. One day he told me of a robbery in which he and another man had been engaged--the robbery of a diamond necklace.
~Jasper~ (_jauntily_). Well?
~Dick~ (_sternly_). A diamond necklace, Jasper Beeste, which the other man hid in the hatbox of another man in order that he might woo the other man's _fiance_! (Millicent _shrieks_.)
~Jasper~ (_blusteringly_). Bah!
~Dick~ (_quietly_). The man in the cell next to mine wants to meet this gentleman again. It seems that he has some old scores to pay off.
~Jasper~ (_sneeringly_). And where is he?
~Dick.~ Ah, where is he? (_He goes to the window and gives a low whistle. A stranger in knickerbockers jumps in and advances with a crab-like movement._) Good! here you are. Allow me to present you to Mr. Jasper Beeste.
~Jasper~ (_in horror_). Two-toed Thomas! I am undone!
~Two-toed Thomas~ (_after a series of unintelligible snarls_). Say the word, guv'nor, and I'll kill him. (_He prowls round_ Jasper _thoughtfully._)
~Dick~ (_sternly_). Stand back! Now, Jasper Beeste, what have you to say?
~Jasper~ (_hysterically_). I confess. I will sign anything. I will go to prison. Only keep that man off me.
~Dick~ (_going up to a bureau and writing aloud at incredible speed_). "I, Jasper Beeste, of Beeste Hall, do hereby declare that I stole Lady Wilsdon's diamond necklace and hid it in the hatbox of Richard Trayle; and I further declare that the said Richard Trayle is innocent of any complicity in the affair. (_Advancing with the paper and a fountain pen._) Sign, please."
(_Jasper signs. At this moment two warders burst into the room._)
~First Warder.~ There they are!
(_He seizes_ Dick. Two-toed Thomas _leaps from the window, pursued by the second Warder_. Millicent _picks up the confession and advances dramatically._)
~Millicent.~ Do not touch that man! Read this!
(_She hands him the confession with an air of superb pride._)
~First Warder~ (_reading_). Jasper Beeste! (_Slipping a pair of handcuffs on_ Jasper.) You come along with me, my man. We've had our suspicions of you for some time. (_To_ Millicent, _with a nod at_ Dick). You'll look after that gentleman, miss?
~Millicent.~ Of course! Why, he's engaged to me. Aren't you, Dick?
~Dick.~ This time, Millicent, for ever!
CURTAIN.
XLIV. "THE LOST HEIRESS"
_The Scene is laid outside a village inn in that county of curious dialects, Loamshire. The inn is easily indicated by a round table bearing two mugs of liquid, while a fallen log emphasises the rural nature of the scene._ Gaffer Jarge _and_ Gaffer Willyum _are seated at the table, surrounded by a fringe of whisker_, Jarge _being slightly more of a gaffer than_ Willyum.
~Jarge~ (_who missed his dinner through nervousness and has been ordered to sustain himself with soup--as he puts down the steaming mug_). Eh, bor but this be rare beer. So it be.
~Willyum~ (_who had too much dinner and is now draining his liquid paraffin_). You be right, Gaffer Jarge. Her be main rare beer. (_He feels up his sleeve, but thinking better of it, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand._) Main rare beer, zo her be. (_Gagging._) Zure-lie.
~Jarge.~ Did I ever tell 'ee, bor, about t' new squoire o' these parts--him wot cum hum yesterday from furren lands? Gaffer Henry wor a-telling me.
~Willyum~ (_privately bored_). Thee didst tell 'un, lad, sartain sure thee didst. And Gaffer Henry, he didst tell 'un too. But tell 'un again. It du me good to hear 'un, zo it du. Zure-lie.
~Jarge~. A rackun it be a main queer tale, queerer nor any them writing chaps tell about. It wor like this. (_Dropping into English, in his hurry to get his long speech over before he forgets it._) The old Squire had a daughter who disappeared when she was three weeks