Джек Лондон
Theft: A Play In Four Acts
Knox
(Protestingly.) Margaret! It is not fair!
Margaret
I love you – and – you?
Knox
(Fervently and reverently.) I love you.
Margaret
Then listen. I have told you of my girlhood and my dreams. I wanted to do what you are so nobly doing. And I did nothing. I could do nothing. I was not permitted. Always was I compelled to hold myself in check. It was to do what you are doing, that I married. And that, too, failed me. My husband became a henchman of the Interests, my own father's tool for the perpetuation of the evils against which I desired to fight.
(She pauses.) It has been a long fight, and I have been very tired, for always did I confront failure. My husband – I did not love him. I never loved him. I sold myself for the Cause, and the cause profited nothing. (Pause.) Often, I have lost faith – faith in everything, in God and man, in the hope of any righteousness ever prevailing. But again and again, by what you are doing, have you awakened me. I came to-night with no thought of self. I came to warn you, to help the good work on. I remained – thank God! – I remained to love you – and to be loved by you. I suddenly found myself, looking at you, very weary. I wanted you – you, more than anything in the world.
(She holds out her arms.) Come to me. I want you – now.
(Knox, in an ecstacy, comes to her. He seats himself on the broad arm of the chair and is drawn into her arms.)
Knox
But I have been tired at times. I was very tired to-night – and you came. And now I am glad, only glad.
Margaret
I have been wanton to-night. I confess it. I am proud of it. But it was not – professional. It was the first time in my life. Almost do I regret – almost do I regret that I did not do it sooner – it has been crowned with such success. You have held me in your arms – your arms. Oh, you will never know what that first embrace meant to me. I am not a clod. I am not iron nor stone. I am a woman – a warm, breathing woman – .
(She rises, and draws him to his feet.)
Kiss me, my dear lord and lover. Kiss me. (They embrace.)
Knox
(Passionately, looking about him wildly as if in search of something.) What shall we do?
(Suddenly releasing her and sinking back in his own chair almost in collapse.) No. It cannot be. It is impossible. Oh, why could we not have met long ago? We would have worked together. What a comradeship it would have been.
Margaret
But it is not too late.
Knox
I have no right to you.
Margaret
(Misunderstanding.) My husband? He has not been my husband for years. He has no rights. Who, but you whom I love, has any rights?
Knox
No; it is not that.
(Snapping his fingers.) That for him.
(Breaking down.) Oh, if I were only the man, and not the reformer! If I had no work to do!
Margaret
(Coming to the back of his chair and caressing his hair.) We can work together.
Knox
(Shaking his head under her fingers.) Don't! Don't!
(She persists, and lays her cheek against his.) You make it so hard. You tempt me so.
(He rises suddenly, takes her two hands in his, leads her gently to her chair, seats her, and reseats himself in desk-chair.) Listen. It is not your husband. But I have no right to you. Nor have you a right to me.
Margaret
(Interrupting, jealously.) And who but I has any right to you?
Knox
(Smiling sadly.) No; it is not that. There is no other woman. You are the one woman for me. But there are many others who have greater rights in me than you. I have been chosen by two hundred thousand citizens to represent them in the Congress of the United States. And there are many more —
(He breaks off suddenly and looks at her, at her arms and shoulders.) Yes, please. Cover them up. Help me not to forget.
(Margaret does not obey.) There are many more who have rights in me – the people, all the people, whose cause I have made mine. The children – there are two million child laborers in these United States. I cannot betray them. I cannot steal my happiness from them. This afternoon I talked of theft. But would not this, too, be theft?
Margaret
(Sharply.) Howard! Wake up! Has our happiness turned your head?
Knox
(Sadly.) Almost – and for a few wild moments, quite. There are all the children. Did I ever tell you of the tenement child, who when asked how he knew when spring came, answered: When he saw the saloons put up their swing doors.
Margaret
(Irritated.) But what has all that to do with one man and one woman loving?
Knox
Suppose we loved – you and I; suppose we loosed all the reins of our love. What would happen? You remember Gorki, the Russian patriot, when he came to New York, aflame with passion for the Russian revolution. His purpose in visiting the land of liberty was to raise funds for that revolution. And because his marriage to the woman he loved was not of the essentially legal sort worshiped by the shopkeepers, and because the newspapers made a sensation of it, his whole mission was brought to failure. He was laughed and derided out of the esteem of the American people. That is what would happen to me. I should be slandered and laughed at. My power would be gone.
Margaret
And even if so – what of it? Be slandered and laughed at. We will have each other. Other men will rise up to lead the people, and leading the people is a thankless task. Life is so short. We must clutch for the morsel of happiness that may be ours.
Knox
Ah, if you knew, as I look into your eyes, how easy it would be to throw everything to the winds. But it would be theft.
Margaret
(Rebelliously.) Let it be theft. Life is so short, dear. We are the biggest facts in the world – to each other.
Knox
It is not myself alone, nor all my people. A moment ago you said no one but I had any right to you. You were wrong. Your child —
Margaret
(In sudden pain, pleadingly.) Don't!
Knox
I must. I must save myself – and you. Tommy has rights in you. Theft again. What other name for it if you steal your happiness from him?
Margaret
(Bending her head forward on her hand and weeping.) I have been so lonely – and then you – you came, and the world grew bright and warm – a few short minutes ago you held me – in your arms – a few short minutes ago and it seemed my dream of happiness had come true – and now you dash it from me —
Knox
(Struggling to control himself now that she is no longer looking at him.) No; I ask you to dash it from yourself. I am not too strong. You must help me. You must call your child to your aid in helping me. I could go mad for you now —
(Rising impulsively and coming to her with arms outstretched to clasp her.) Right now —
Margaret
(Abruptly raising her head, and with one outstretched arm preventing the embrace.) Wait.
(She bows her head on her hand for a moment, to think and to win control of herself.)
(Lifting her head and looking at him.) Sit down – please.
(Knox reseats himself.)
(A pause, during which she looks at him and loves him.) Dear, I do so love you —
(Knox loses control and starts to rise.) No! Sit there. I was weak. Yet I am not sorry. You are right. We must forego each other. We cannot be thieves, even for love's sake. Yet I am glad that this has happened – that I have lain in your arms and had your lips on mine. The memory of it will be sweet always.
(She draws her cloak around her, and rises.)
(Knox rises.) You are right. The future belongs to the children. There lies duty – yours, and mine in my small way. I am going now. We must not see each other ever again. We must work – and forget. But remember, my heart goes with you into the fight. My prayers will accompany every stroke.
(She hesitates, pauses, draws her cloak thoroughly around her in evidence of departure.) Dear – will you kiss me – once – one last time? (There is no passion in this kiss, which is the kiss of renunciation. Margaret herself terminates the embrace.)
(Knox accompanies her silently to the door and places hand on knob.) I wish I had something of you to have with me always – a photograph, that little one, you remember, which I liked so. (She nods.) Don't run the risk of sending it by messenger. Just mail it ordinarily.
Margaret
I shall mail it to-morrow. I'll drop it in the box myself.
Knox
(Kissing her hand.) Good-bye.
Margaret
(lingeringly.) But oh, my dear, I am glad and proud for what has happened. I would not erase a single line of it.
(She indicates for Knox to open door, which he does, but which he immediately closes as she continues speaking.) There must be immortality. There must be a future life where you and I shall meet again. Good-bye.
(They press each other's hands.)
(Exit Margaret.)
(Knox stands a moment, staring at closed door, turns and looks about him indecisively, sees chair in which Margaret sat, goes over to it, kneels down, and buries his face.)
(Door to bedroom opens slowly and Hubbard peers out cautiously. He cannot see Knox.)
Hubbard
(Advancing, surprised.) What the deuce? Everybody gone?
Knox
(Startled to his feet.) Where the devil did you come from?
Hubbard
(Indicating bedroom.) In there. I was in there all the time.
Knox
(Endeavoring to pass it off.) Oh, I had forgotten about you. Well, my callers are gone.
Hubbard
(Walking over close to him and laughing at him with affected amusement.) Honest men are such dubs when they do go wrong.
Knox
The door was closed all the time. You would not have dared to spy upon me.
Hubbard
There was something familiar about the lady's voice.
Knox
You heard! – what did you hear?
Hubbard
Oh, nothing, nothing – a murmur of voices – and the woman's – I could swear I have heard her voice before.
(Knox shows his relief.) Well, so long.
(Starts to move toward exit to right.) You won't reconsider your decision?
Knox
(Shaking his head.)
Hubbard
(Pausing, open door in hand, and laughing cynically.) And yet it was but a moment ago that it seemed I heard you say there was no one whom you would not permit the world to know you saw.
(Starting.) What do you mean?
Hubbard
Good-bye.
(Hubbard makes exit and closes door.) (Knox wanders aimlessly to his desk, glances at the letter he was reading of which had been interrupted by Hubbard's entry of first act, suddenly recollects the package of documents, and walks to low bookcase and looks on top.)
Knox
(Stunned.) The thief!
(He looks about him wildly, then rushes like a madman in pursuit of Hubbard, making exit to right and leaving the door Hying open.) (Empty stage for a moment.)
Curtain
ACT III
Scene. The library, used as a sort of semi-office by Starkweather at such times when he is in Washington. Door to right; also, door to right rear. At left rear is an alcove, without hangings, which is dark. To left are windows. To left, near windows, a fiat-top desk, with desk-chair and desk-telephone. Also, on desk, conspicuously, is a heavy dispatch box. At the center rear is a large screen. Extending across center back of room are heavy, old-fashioned bookcases, with swinging glass doors. The bookcases narrow about four feet from the floor, thus forming a ledge. Between left end of bookcases and alcove at left rear, high up on wall, hangs a large painting or steel engraving of Abraham Lincoln. In design and furnishings, it is a simple chaste room, coldly rigid and slightly old-fashioned.
It is 9:30 in the morning of the day succeeding previous act.
Curtain discloses Starkweather seated at desk, and Dobleman, to right of desk, standing.
Starkweather
All right, though it is an unimportant publication. I'll subscribe.
Dobleman
(Making note on pad.) Very well, sir. Two thousand.
(He consults his notes.) Then there is Vanderwater's Magazine. Your subscription is due.
Starkweather
How much?
Dobleman
You have been paying fifteen thousand.
Starkweather
It is too much. What is the regular subscription?
Dobleman
A dollar a year.
Starkweather
(Shaking his head emphatically.) It is too much.
Dobleman
Professor Vanderwater also does good work with his lecturing. He is regularly on the Chautauqua Courses, and at that big meeting of the National Civic Federation, his speech was exceptionally telling.
Starkweather
(Doubtfully, about to give in.) All right —
(He pauses, as if recollecting something.) (Dobleman has begun to write down the note.) No. I remember there was something in the papers about this Professor Vanderwater – a divorce, wasn't it? He has impaired his authority and his usefulness to me.
Dobleman
It was his wife's fault.
Starkweather
It is immaterial. His usefulness is impaired. Cut him down to ten thousand. It will teach him a lesson.
Dobleman
Very good, sir.
Starkweather
And the customary twenty thousand to Cartwrights.
Dobleman
(Hesitatingly.) They have asked for more. They have enlarged the magazine, reorganized the stock, staff, everything.
Starkweather
Hubbard's writing for it, isn't he?
Dobleman
Yes, sir. And though I don't know, it is whispered that he is one of the heavy stockholders.
Starkweather
A very capable man. He has served me well. How much do they want?
Dobleman
They say that Nettman series of articles cost them twelve thousand alone, and that they believe, in view of the exceptional service they are prepared to render, and are rendering, fifty thousand —
Starkweather
(Shortly.) All right. How much have I given to University of Hanover this year?
Dobleman
Seven – nine millions, including that new library.
Starkweather
(Sighing.) Education does cost. Anything more this morning?
Dobleman
(Consulting notes.) Just one other – Mr. Rutland. His church, you know, sir, and that theological college. He told me he had been talking it over with you. He is anxious to know.
Starkweather
He's very keen, I must say. Fifty thousand for the church, and a hundred thousand for the college – I ask you, candidly, is he worth it?
Dobleman
The church is a very powerful molder of public opinion, and Mr. Rutland is very impressive. (Running over the notes and producing a clipping.) This is what he said in his sermon two weeks ago: "God has given to Mr. Starkweather the talent for making money as truly as God has given to other men the genius which manifests itself in literature and the arts and sciences."
Starkweather
(Pleased.) He says it well.
Dobleman
(Producing another clipping.) And this he said about you in last Sunday's sermon: "We are to-day rejoicing in the great light of the consecration of a great wealth to the advancement of the race. This vast wealth has been so consecrated by a man who all through life has walked in accord with the word, The love of Christ constraineth me.'"
Starkweather
(Meditatively.) Dobleman, I have meant well. I mean well. I shall always mean well. I believe I am one of those few men, to whom God, in his infinite wisdom, has given the stewardship of the people's wealth. It is a high trust, and despite the abuse and vilification heaped upon me, I shall remain faithful to it.
(Changing his tone abruptly to businesslike briskness.) Very well. See that Mr. Rutland gets what he has asked for.
Dobleman
Very good, sir. I shall telephone him. I know he is anxious to hear.
(Starting to leave the room.) Shall I make the checks out in the usual way?
Starkweather
Yes: except the Rutland one. I'll sign that myself. Let the others go through the regular channels. We take the 2:10 train for New York. Are you ready?
Dobleman
(Indicating dispatch box.) All, except the dispatch box.
Starkweather
I'll take care of that myself.
(Dobleman starts to make exit to left, and Starkweather, taking notebook from pocket, glances into it, and looks up.)
Dobleman.
Dobleman
(Pausing.) Yes, sir.
Starkweather
Mrs. Chalmers is here, isn't she?
Dobleman
Yes, sir. She came a few minutes ago, with her little boy. They are with Mrs. Starkweather.
Starkweather
Please tell Mrs. Chalmers I wish to see her.
Dobleman
Yes, sir.
(Dobleman makes exit.) (Maidservant enters from right rear, with card tray.)
Starkweather
(Examining card.) Show him in.
(Maidservant makes exit right rear). (Pause, during which Starkweather consults notebook.) (Maidservant re-enters, showing in Hubbard.)
(Hubbard advances to desk.) (Starkweather is so glad to see him that he half rises from his chair to shake hands.)
Starkweather
(Heartily.) I can only tell you that what you did was wonderful. Your telephone last night was a great relief. Where are they?
Hubbard
(Drawing package of documents from inside breast pocket and handing them over.) There they are – the complete set. I was fortunate.
Starkweather
(Opening package and glancing at a number of the documents while he talks.) You are modest, Mr. Hubbard. – It required more – than fortune. – It required ability – of no mean order. – The time was short. – You had to think – and act – with too great immediacy to be merely fortunate.
(Hubbard bows, while Starkweather rearranges package.)
There is no need for me to tell you how I appreciate your service. I have increased my subscription to Cartwright's to fifty thousand, and I shall speak to Dobleman, who will remit to you a more substantial acknowledgment than my mere thanks for the inestimable service you have rendered.
(Hubbard bows.)
You – ah – you have read the documents?
Hubbard
I glanced through them. They were indeed serious. But we have spiked Knox's guns. Without them, that speech of his this afternoon becomes a farce – a howling farce. Be sure you take good care of them.
(Indicating documents, which Starkweather still holds.) Gherst has a long arm.
Starkweather
He cannot reach me here. Besides, I go to New York to-day, and I shall carry them with me. Mr. Hubbard, you will forgive me —
(Starting to pack dispatch box with papers and letters lying on desk.) I am very busy.
Hubbard
(Taking the hint.) Yes, I understand. I shall be going now. I have to be at the Club in five minutes.
Starkweather
(In course of packing dispatch box, he sets certain packets of papers and several medium-sized account books to one side in an orderly pile. He talks while he packs, and Hubbard waits.) I should like to talk with you some more – in New York. Next time you are in town be sure to see me. I am thinking of buying the Parthenon Magazine, and of changing its policy. I should like to have you negotiate this, and there are other important things as well. Good day, Mr. Hubbard. I shall see you in New York – soon.
(Hubbard and Starkweather shake hands.)
(Hubbard starts to make exit to right rear.)
(Margaret enters from right rear.)
(Starkweather goes on packing dispatch box through following scene.)
Hubbard
Mrs. Chalmers.
(Holding out hand, which Margaret takes very coldly, scarcely inclining her head, and starting to pass on.) (Speaking suddenly and savagely.) You needn't be so high and lofty, Mrs. Chalmers.
Margaret
(Pausing and looking at him curiously as if to ascertain whether he has been drinking.) I do not understand.
Hubbard
You always treated me this way, but the time for it is past. I won't stand for your superior goodness any more. You really impressed me with it for a long time, and you made me walk small. But I know better now. A pretty game you've been playing – you, who are like any other woman. Well, you know where you were last night. So do I.
Margaret
You are impudent.
Hubbard
(Doggedly.) I said I knew where you were last night. Mr. Knox also knows where you were. But I'll wager your husband doesn't.
Margaret
You spy!
(Indicating her father.) I suppose you have told – him.
Hubbard
Why should I?
Margaret
You are his creature.
Hubbard
If it will ease your suspense, let me tell you that I have not told him. But I do protest to you that you must treat me with more – more kindness.
(Margaret makes no sign but passes on utterly oblivious of him.) (Hubbard stares angrily at her and makes exit) (Starkweather, who is finishing packing, puts the documents last inside box, and closes and locks it. To one side is the orderly stack of the several account books and packets of papers.)
Starkweather
Good morning, Margaret. I sent for you because we did not finish that talk last night. Sit down.
(She gets a chair for herself and sits down.)
You always were hard to manage, Margaret. You have had too much will for a woman. Yet I did my best for you. Your marriage with Tom was especially auspicious – a rising man, of good family and a gentleman, eminently suitable —
Margaret
(Interrupting bitterly.) I don't think you were considering your daughter at all in the matter. I know your views on woman and woman's place. I have never counted for anything with you. Neither has mother, nor Connie, when business was uppermost, and business always is uppermost with you. I sometimes wonder if you think a woman has a soul. As for my marriage – you saw that Tom could be useful to you. He had the various distinctive points you have mentioned. Better than that he was pliable, capable of being molded to perform your work, to manipulate machine politics and procure for you the legislation you desired. You did not consider what kind of a husband he would make for your daughter whom you did not know. But you gave your daughter to him – sold her to him – because you needed him —
(Laughs hysterically.) In your business.
Starkweather
(Angrily.) Margaret! You must not speak that way. (Relaxing.)
Ah, you do not change. You were always that way, always bent on having your will —
Margaret
Would to God I had been more successful in having it.
Starkweather
(Testily.) This is all beside the question. I sent for you to tell you that this must stop – this association with a man of the type and character of Knox – a dreamer, a charlatan, a scoundrel —
Margaret
It is not necessary to abuse him.
Starkweather
It must stop – that is all. Do you understand? It must stop.
Margaret
(Quietly.) It has stopped. I doubt that I shall ever see him again. He will never come to my house again, at any rate. Are you satisfied?
Starkweather
Perfectly. Of course, you know I have never doubted you – that – that way.
Margaret
(Quietly.) How little you know women. In your comprehension we are automatons, puppets, with no hearts nor heats of desire of our own, with no springs of conduct save those of the immaculate and puritanical sort that New England crystallized a century or so ago.
Starkweather
(Suspiciously.) You mean that you and this man – ?
Margaret
I mean nothing has passed between us. I mean that I am Tom's wife and Tommy's mother. What I did mean, you have no more understood than you understand me – or any woman.
Starkweather
(Relieved.) It is well.
Margaret
(Continuing.) And it is so easy. The concept is simple. A woman is human. That is all. Yet I do believe it is news to you.
(Enters Dobleman from right carrying a check in his hand. Starkweather, about to speak, pauses.) (Dobleman hesitates, and Starkweather nods for him to advance.)
Dobleman
(Greeting Margaret, and addressing Starkweather.) This check. You said you would sign it yourself.
Starkweather
Yes, that is Rutland's. (Looks for pen.)
(Dobleman offers his fountain pen.) No; my own pen.
(Unlocks dispatch box, gets pen, and signs check. Leaves dispatch box open.) (Dobleman takes check and makes exit to right.)
Starkweather
(Picking up documents from top of pile in open box.)
This man Knox. I studied him yesterday. A man of great energy and ideals. Unfortunately, he is a sentimentalist. He means right – I grant him that. But he does not understand practical conditions. He is more dangerous to the welfare of the United States than ten thousand anarchists. And he is not practical. (Holding up documents.)
Behold, stolen from my private files by a yellow journal sneak thief and turned over to him. He thought to buttress his speech with them this afternoon. And yet, so hopelessly unpractical is he, that you see they are already back in the rightful owner's hands.
Margaret
Then his speech is ruined?
Starkweather
Absolutely. The wheels are all ready to turn. The good people of the United States will dismiss him with roars of laughter – a good phrase, that: Hubbard's, I believe.
(Dropping documents on the open cover of dispatch box, picking up the pile of several account books and packets of papers, and rising.) One moment. I must put these away.
(Starkweather goes to alcove at left rear. He presses a button and alcove is lighted by electricity, discovering the face of a large safe. During the following scene he does not look around, being occupied with working the combination, opening the safe, putting away account books and packets of papers, and with examining other packets which are in safe.)
(Margaret looks at documents lying on open cover of dispatch box and glancing quickly about room, takes a sudden resolution. She seizes documents, makes as if to run wildly from the room, stops abruptly to reconsider, and changes her mind. She looks about room for a hiding place, and her eyes rest on portrait of Lincoln. Moving swiftly, picking up a light chair on the way, she goes to corner of bookcase nearest to portrait, steps on chair, and from chair to ledge of bookcase where, clinging, she reaches out and up and drops documents behind portrait. Stepping quickly down, with handkerchief she wipes ledge on which she has stood, also the seat of the chair. She carries chair back to where she found it, and reseats herself in chair by desk.) (Starkweather locks safe, emerges from alcove, turns off alcove lights, advances to desk chair, and sits down. He is about to close and lock dispatch box when he discovers documents are missing. He is very quiet about it, and examines contents of box care-fully.)
Starkweather
(Quietly.) Has anybody been in the room?
Margaret
No.
Starkweather
(Looking at her searchingly.) A most unprecedented thing has occurred. When I went to the safe a moment ago, I left these documents on the cover of the dispatch box. Nobody has been in the room but you. The documents are gone. Give them to me.
Margaret
I have not been out of the room.
Starkweather
I know that. Give them to me.
(A pause.) You have them. Give them to me
Margaret
I haven't them.
Starkweather
That is a lie. Give them to me.
Margaret
(Rising.) I tell you I haven't them —
Starkweather
(Also rising.) That is a lie.
Margaret
(Turning and starting to cross room.) Very well, if you do not believe me —
Starkweather
(Interrupting.) Where are you going?
Margaret
Home.
Starkweather
(Imperatively.) No, you are not. Come back here.
(Margaret comes back and stands by chair.) You shall not leave this room. Sit down.
Margaret
I prefer to stand.
Starkweather
Sit down.
(She still stands, and he grips her by arm, forcing her down into chair.) Sit down. Before you leave this room you shall return those documents. This is more important than you realize. It transcends all ordinary things of life as you have known it, and you will compel me to do things far harsher than you can possibly imagine. I can forget that you are a daughter of mine. I can forget that you are even a woman. If I have to tear them from you, I shall get them. Give them to me.
(A pause.) What are you going to do?
(Margaret shrugs her shoulders.) What have you to say?
(Margaret again shrugs her shoulders.) What have you to say?
Margaret
Nothing.
Starkweather
(Puzzled, changing tactics, sitting down, and talking calmly.) Let us talk this over quietly. You have no shred of right of any sort to those documents. They are mine. They were stolen by a sneak thief from my private files. Only this morning – a few minutes ago – did I get them back. They are mine, I tell you. They belong to me. Give them back.
Margaret
I tell you I haven't them.
Starkweather
You have got them about you, somewhere, concealed in your breast there. It will not save you. I tell you I shall have them. I warn you. I don't want to proceed to extreme measures. Give them to me.
(He starts to press desk-button, pauses, and looks at her.) Well?
(Margaret shrugs her shoulders.) (He presses button twice.) I have sent for Dobleman. You have one chance before he comes. Give them to me.
Margaret
Father, will you believe me just this once? Let me go. I tell you I haven't the documents. I tell you that if you let me leave this room, I shall not carry them away with me. I tell you this on my honor. Do you believe me? Tell me that you do believe me.
Starkweather
I do believe you. You say they are not on you. I believe you. Now tell me where they are – you have them hidden somewhere – (Glancing about room.) – And you can go at once.
(Dobleman enters from right and advances to desk. Starkweather and Margaret remains silent.)
Dobleman
You rang for me.
Starkweather
(With one last questioning glance at Margaret, who remains impassive.) Yes, I did. Have you been in that other room all the time?
Dobleman
Yes, sir.
Starkweather
Did anybody pass through and enter this room?
Dobleman
No, sir.
Starkweather
Very well. We'll see what the maid has to say.
(He presses button once.) Margaret, I give you one last chance.
Margaret
I have told you that if I leave this room, I shall not take them with me.
(Maid enters from right rear and advances.)
Starkweather
Has anybody come into this room from the hall in the last few minutes?
Maid
No, sir; not since Mrs. Chalmers came in.
Starkweather
How do you know?
Maid
I was in the hall, sir, dusting all the time.
Starkweather
That will do.
(Maid makes exit to right rear.) Dobleman, a very unusual thing has occurred.
Mrs. Chalmers and I have been alone in this room. Those letters stolen by Gherst had been returned to me by Hubbard but the moment before. They were on my desk. I turned my back for a moment to go to the safe. When I came back they were gone.
Dobleman
(Embarrassed.) Yes, sir.
Starkweather
Mrs. Chalmers took them. She has them now.
Dobleman
(Attempts to speak, stammers.) Er – er – yes, sir
Starkweather
I want them back. What is to be done?
(Dobleman remains in hopeless confusion.) Well!
Dobleman
(Speaking hurriedly and hopefully.) S-send for Mr. Hubbard. He got them for you before.
Starkweather
A good suggestion. Telephone for him. You should find him at the Press Club.
(Dobleman starts to make exit to right.) Don't leave the room. Use this telephone. (Indicating desk telephone.) (Dobleman moves around to left of desk and uses telephone standing up.) From now on no one leaves the room. If my daughter can be guilty of such a theft, it is plain I can trust no one – no one.
