Scene: The lounge of “The Blue Boar Hotel,” the principal hostel of a small village within four miles of Peterborough. In the A.A. handbook this house might with luck be marked with two stars: it is a better hotel than one would expect in as remote a spot owing to its proximity to a celebrated golf course. The lounge opens direct on to the main street by a door at the back of the stage L: down right is a fireplace by which is an old oak settle: an armchair faces the fireplace RC. Up L near the door is a pretentious screen: down L is a writing table. A card table up C. Other chairs and the usual fittings of such a room. Two staircases lead to a landing upstairs – where are seen doors R and C – a passage leading off L. Eli Guppy is discovered on the settle reading “The Daily Mail:” he is a lean hatchet-faced man with a scrubby beard. Something in the paper catches his eye and he whistles – then arranges his spectacles and reads with interest. There is a knock at the front door: Guppy glances at the clock: the time is 3.30. The month October. He rises and opens the door. Shuttleworth is standing outside, carrying a dilapidated suitcase.
Guppy. Are you the waiter?
Shuttle. That’s right, guvnor.
Guppy. Come in. (Shuttle enters and stands rather forlorn in the middle of the room. Guppy stands back to fireplace.) You’re later than you said.
Shuttle. That’s so, guvnor. I missed the bus at Peterborough and ’ad to walk.
Guppy. Good for you: take the fat down. (Shuttle smiles feebly: he is very tall and thin and looks half-starved.)
Shuttle. Ain’t much fat on me, guvnor – worse luck. I bin out of a job for a month.
Guppy. Well, I suppose you’ve brought your references?
Shuttle. That’s right, guvnor: (he dives his hand into his breast pocket and produces dirty papers.) That there’s the last.
Guppy. This is dated early last year.
Shuttle. That’s right – The Grand Hotel, Scarborough.
Guppy. But you said you left your last job a month ago.
Shuttle. That’s right, guvnor. The Halbermarle, Felixstowe. The guvnor didn’t give me no reference.
Guppy. Oh, didn’t he? How was that?
Shuttle. I was a bit unfortunate, you see.
Guppy. Drink?
Shuttle. Never been drunk in my life, guvnor, leastways not by my own fault.
Guppy. It never is your own fault, eh? –
Shuttle. Swelp me, guvnor, I thought I was drinking lemonade –
Guppy. And it turned out to be champagne.
Shuttle. That’s right, guvnor. Left on one of the tables.
Guppy. One?
Shuttle. Well, one or two –
Guppy. Or three or four.
Shuttle. That’s right, guvnor.
Guppy. So you were sacked next day for drunkenness.
Shuttle. That’s right, guvnor – and me as innocent as the babe unborn.
Guppy. Then you have no references since May last year? Been out of a job all the winter?
Shuttle. No, no, guvnor. I bin in five or six places.
Guppy. And you mistook champagne for lemonade in all of them?
Shuttle. I’m a bit near-sighted.
Guppy. I see. Well, I’ll give you a week’s trial. At any other time I wouldn’t have you inside the house – but this week’s bound to be a busy time because of the meeting.
Shuttle. Labour or Conservative?
Guppy. Golf. The midlands amateur championship starts here tomorrow.
Shuttle. Then you’ll give me the job, guvnor’?
Guppy. A week’s trial – let me see, what’s your name? Shuttle-worth?
Shuttle. That’s right, guvnor – Halfred Shuttleworth.
Guppy. Shuttleworth’s too long: who ever heard of a waiter called Shuttleworth? You’ll be known as Alfred.
Shuttle. Please yourself, guvnor: a waiter ’as to answer to most names. (A knock at the door.)
Guppy. See who that is, Shuttle – Alfred. (Shuttle opens door, admitting Haskins, a surly man in golfing kit, carrying a bag of clubs.)
Fraser. Are you the landlady?
Guppy. That’s me, Sir. Are you wanting a room for tonight, sir?
Fraser. For tonight at least. If I hae a wee bit luck in the golf meeting I micht be wanting it for twa or three nichts.
Guppy. Quite, sir – very good, sir. No 1. sir. Shuttlefred, take the gentleman’s luggage up to No 1 –- along that passage upstairs.
Fraser. Ye’ll find my wee bit portmanteau in the dickey of my car. (Exit Shuttle.)
Guppy. A new man, sir; I hope you’ll excuse him.
Fraser. Oh, that’s a’richt. (Sits in armchair.) I’ve had a long rin frae Glasgae.
Guppy. You’ll have had lunch, I suppose, sir.
Fraser. Oh aye. I had a wee snack at Newark. Is that the day’s paper?
Guppy. Yes, sir. And there’s a queer thing caught my eye just before you came in, sir. Listen to this: “Famous criminal escapes from Princetown Prison. Gentleman Harrison on the road again.”
Fraser. Gentleman Harrison – I seem to ken the name.
Guppy. Yes, sir. Arrested last autumn in this very room, Sir. The detectives walked in and found him sitting in that very chair what you’re sitting in now, Sir.
Fraser. Most remawkable! (Shuttle enters with portmanteau and stands listening.) Let’s have a look.
Guppy. Shall I read you what it says, sir?
Fraser. Ay. It will give the story quite a romantic flavour to hear it frae the criminal’s chair.
Guppy. (Clears throat.) Famous criminal escapes from Princetown Prison. Gentleman Harrison on the road again. At a few minutes before three o’clock yesterday afternoon, the inhabitants of Dartmoor were startled to hear the report of the Prison gun announcing to the world at large that one of the inmates had made a dash for liberty. It was not until later in the evening that it transpired, that the convict who had brought off this successful “cowp” –
Fraser. Coop, man. Excuse me, go on.
Guppy. Brought off this successful coop was none other than the notorious Gentleman Harrison, whose name was a household word last December. It appears that while the prisoners were working in the fields in the vicinity of the prison, a dense fog came down quite suddenly and Harrison slipped away under cover of the mist. As soon as his escape was discovered, the alarm was given and warders began to scour the countryside in all directions. One warder states positively that he saw the prisoner in a two-seater Morris car drive out from a shed in the neighbourhood of Dunnabridge: the number plate of the car was covered up and Harrison had changed into ordinary civilian clothes. Seated beside Harrison was another man, a fact which gives rise to the belief that the daring criminal had an accomplice outside the prison walls.
Fraser. Yon’s quite a logical deduction. Ay, go on.
Guppy. Before the warder had time to reach the building, the car had swung into the road, and vanished into the mist.
Fraser. Weel, I wish the puir body a successful trip.
Guppy. The police are making investigations, and are believed to have a clue. But they prudently refuse to make any statements.”
Fraser. I wonder if the police hae ever been believed not to hae a clue.
Guppy. He’s an artful one, sir.
Fraser. What was his crime? I seem to remember something about a diamond star.
Guppy. That was it. Stop a bit, sir; there’s some more here – Now what’s this? “The escape of Gentleman Harrison recalls the circumstances of the daring theft for which the famous criminal has been doing time in Princetown Gaol. On July 26th last year a large Subscription ball was held in the Town Hall at Huddersfield: the Mayor of Huddersfield, Sir David Grubb, and Lady Grubb, patronised the Ball: shortly after the supper interval Lady Grubb discovered that a very valuable diamond star which she had been wearing in her hair was missing: information was at once conveyed to the police and investigations were immediately opened. To cut a long story short the theft was eventually traced to Harrison, who had been disguised as a waiter and had abstracted the jewel from Lady Grubb’s hair while handing her the soup. Harrison was arrested more than two months later in the lounge of “The Blue Boar Hotel,” Little Popton, where he was staying for the midlands amateur golf championship.” I’m glad they put that bit in.
Fraser. You wish your hotel to be known as a resort of criminals?
Guppy. Not quite that, sir; but it’s been the best advertisement I’ve had for years: never done such good business, as in the last twelve-month.
Fraser. What happened to the diamond star?
Guppy. There you have me, sir. And there Harrison had the police.
Fraser. It was never traced?
Guppy. The star was traced all right. It was here in his luggage: a few of the smaller diamonds had been removed and he had sold them, and was living on the proceeds. The police knew where he got rid of his jewels and they were all recovered. But the big diamond in the middle of the star had not been sold – but it was missing. Harrison was known to carry the most valuable jewels hidden in his clothes: but though several other stones were found on him the Grubb diamond wasn’t there. The detectives would have it that he had hidden it somewhere here in the house.
Fraser. And they searched?
Guppy. They did search, sir: it was worse than a spring cleaning. But they found nowt.
Fraser. So Lady Grubb lost her diamond. What was it worth?
Guppy. Well, sir, they did say it was worth £100,000. I know she offered a reward of £5000 to anyone who found it. It used to be a favourite game for my guests to take bricks out of the fireplace and pull up the floor boarding. But they’ve given it up now. By George, sir here’s a leading article about it.
Fraser. Ay, a sensation is broth to the penny papers. May I have a peep? (Guppy hands paper.) Thanks. I’ll read it out to ye. “Despite the natural reticence of the police, we may hazard a guess as to the intended destination of Gentleman Harrison; it will be remembered that he was arrested at the Blue Boar Hotel at Little Popton; it was common knowledge at the time of the arrest that the police were so convinced that the missing diamond was still concealed in the precincts that they ransacked the whole house – but without success. Now a diamond is an easy thing to conceal, but very difficult for another party to find. Harrison is not the man to allow £100,000 to be wasted if there is any chance of recovering it. What more natural than that he will make an attempt to recover the jewel, before making his escape overseas. He has the reputation of being the coolest and most audacious criminal alive; in addition to this, he is a past master in disguise. He will probably return to the Blue Boar within the next few days in the plus fours of a scratch golfer or the more unobtrusive garb of a respectable waiter.
(Shuttle suddenly drops the portmanteau. The others, who have been unaware of his presence, start violently.)
Shuttle. ’Scuse me, guvnor: I’ve forgot the number of the gentleman’s room. (Guppy stares at him speechless – then ...)
Guppy. Five. Up that staircase and along the passage.
(Without speaking, they watch him go upstairs.)
Fraser. What is Harrison like?
Guppy. Well, sir, there was nothing very peculiar about him. He was much like any other gentleman. He was in disguise then, they told me afterwards.
Fraser. And prison life micht reduce corpulence. Whist. (Shuttle appears and comes downstairs.) I had better get my car into the garage.
Guppy. Very good, sir: Shuttlealf, take this gentleman round to the garridge – first gate on the left.
Shuttle. Righto, guvnor. (Shuttle exit, followed by Fraser.)
(Guppy scratches his head, picks up the paper, glances at it, then goes to the door and looks off in direction taken by the others. Then he returns to the fire and lights his pipe. A knock. He goes to the door and opens it.)
Fish. (At door.) ’Marnin Mr. Guppy.
(Fish wears constable’s trousers, mufti coat and bowler.)
Guppy. Good, morning, Joe – come in.
Fish. Thank ’ee, Mr. Guppy.
Guppy. Will you have a pint?
Fish. Thank ’ee, Mr. Guppy. I don’t mind if I do. (Guppy goes off L into the bar.) Ale be a powerful good thing to stimilate the brain. You’ll excuse me bein’ in these ’ere clothes, Mr. Guppy, but I want to give my visit the look of just droppin’ in – kind of unofficial-like. (Guppy returns with pewter tankard.) Thank ’ee Mr. Guppy, I’m sure. ’Ere’s luck. (Drinks and smacks lips.)
Guppy. Well, Joe, what brings you in here?
Fish. Ay, that’s just it, Mr. Guppy. You’ll mind that ’Arrison bloke what got copped by me and Scotland Yard in this ’ere very room a twelve-month back.
Guppy. Seems he’s free again.
Fish. Ay, bolted – too artful to stop long in quod.
Guppy. Says so in the ’Mail’.
Fish. Do it now? Ah.
Guppy. Well, Joe, what about it?
Fish. Ah, that’s just it. What abaht it? (Drinks again.) Well, Mr. Guppy, I’ll tell you, but you mustn’t breathe a word to nobody else. I got special orders from Scotland Yard today – quite secret, you see – I ain’t told a single soul abaht them except the missus and you – oh and old Jack ’Odges; ’e come rahnd to the station just arter the telephone call comes and I was in such a twitter, I out with the noos almost without thinking like. But he wont say nowt.
Guppy. Your wife is one to gossip, Joe.
Fish. Nao – not she. She’s going round to the Mothers’ meeting ’s afternoon, though: I must give ’er a ’int not to jabber so much as usual.
Guppy. Well, what’s your orders, Joe?
Fish. Ah, that’s it. My orders – ah. Praps I didn’t ought to tell you arter all.
Guppy. Of course, you know best.
Fish. Ah. Well, it’s like this, Mr. Guppy. Seems they think this bloke ’Arrison may turn up ’ere again: ’E’s nabbed a Morris car, they do say: so I’ve got to take down the number of any Morris car – what stops at the door of the “Blue Boar” and write out what – the ockipants looks like, and cetra, and cetra. They’re sending out a Sergeant from Peterborough and I’ve got to report to ’im. Don’t know what they want to do that for, though.
Guppy. He’s to keep a look out, I suppose.
Fish. Well, I’m ’ere, ain’t I?
Guppy. Two heads are better than one, Joe.
Fish. Depends on the ’eads. ’E’ll stay in Luxury at the “Blue Boar”, I shouldn’t wonder – and ’ave ’is pint whenever ’e wants it.
Guppy. Will you have another, Joe?
Fish. Thank ’ee, Mr. Guppy, I don’t mind if I do. (Guppy takes mug out to bar.) Than I must go and put on my uniform, case any Morris cars comes along. There ain’t been any Morriseses round –’ere ’s afternoon, ’as there? I ’ad to ’ave my arternoon snooze arter dinner – and I might ’ave missed a tidy few.
Guppy. (returning.) Not as I know.
Fish. Thank ’ee, Mr. Guppy. ’Ere’s luck!
Guppy. There’s a Scotch gentleman just gone round to the garridge. I didn’t see his car, though.
Fish. Maybe it’s a Morris. I’ll put on my uniform in ’alf a jiff and go and inspeck it. You see, Mr. Guppy, if it be a Morris, ten to one it’s Gentleman ’Arrison come arter the bloomin’ dimint. (Enter Fraser.)
Fraser. Yon’s a verry pretty little garage you’ve been building, Mr. Guppy. It would accommodate at least six little Morrises line mine. (Fish looks at Guppy, winks, finishes his pint and tiptoes awkwardly past Fraser.)
Fish. ’Scuse me, sir. I’ll be back in ’alf a jiff, Mr. Guppy. (Exit Fish.)
Fraser. Wha is that remarrkable character, Mr. Guppy?
(Guppy affects not to hear. Is eyeing Fraser suspiciously.)
Guppy. Did you say your car was a Morris, sir?
Fraser. Ay, a wee twa seater. (Guppy surreptitiously examines paper.)
Guppy. Oh.
Fraser. But who was the gentleman with the billycock hat?
Guppy. That? Oh, that was Mr. Fish.
Fraser. Ay, to be sure, he drank like one.
Guppy. Um.
Fraser. I’ve been thinking about your friend, Gentleman Harrison.
Guppy. No friend of mine.
Fraser. It seems to me very improbable that he will run his head straight into the noose by coming down here.
Guppy. Well, you ought to know.
Fraser. No, no. I lay no claim to inside knowledge: I merely judge by what I should do in similar circumstances.
Guppy. Ah. (Fish enters in uniform.)
Fraser. Ha, Mr. Fish again. Quite a transformation.
Fish. (Clears throat. Notebook in hand.) You’ll excuse me, sir, but I ’ave to ask you a few questions, and it’s my dooty to warn you that anything you says may be used against you.
Fraser. That’s very considerate of you, Mr. Fish. My wisest course will be to say nothing at all.
Fish. Nah then! None of your sauce. ’Ave you got a Morris car?
Fraser. Ay.
Fish. Which is now in the “Blue Bear” garridge?
Fraser. Ay
Fish. Ah (takes notes). Two seater or four
Fish. What’s your business in Little Popton?
Fraser. Pleasure.
Fish. Pleasure ain’t business.
Fraser. Gawf, then.
Fish. I ain’t sure as golf is business, either.
Fraser. Hoots, mon but that’s rank heresy
(A knock. Guppy is going to the door when it opens and Arnold Jenkinson enters. He talks volubly an doesn’t wait for his questions to be answered. Guppy makes an attempt to reply.)
Jenk. Hullo, this is the “Blue Bear”, isn’t it? That’s all right. Are you the landlord? Good. – Can you give me a room for tonight? Splendid: I was afraid you might be full up and its absolutely imperative for me to sleep here tonight. I should have had to be content with a mattress in the big bath if there had been nothing else doing, but naturally I prefer the cosy luxury of a feather mattress. By the way, I suppose you have feather mattresses ah, I thought so. Never knew a country hotel which didn’t boast a feather mattress. Personally I hate the things – always get swamped in a cavity of my own making and dream that I am the two little Princes in the Tower. However, that’s beside the point. Look here, have you got a garage? Oh, that’s top-hole. I’ll run round there straight away. I’ve left the engine of my Morris running –
Fish. (Very loudly) Stop! (Short pause.)
Jenk. Hullo, got a police raid on here? Well, I am surprised – looks a most respectable pub, too. But you can never judge by appearances: some of the most disreputable night clubs –
Fish. Did you say Morris?
Jenk. I don’t think so – is that you name?
Fish. My name’s Fish. But that’s nothing to do with you.
Jenk. No – now you mention it, it really hasn’t much to do with me. But it’s a very nice name, all the same – quite a flavour about it.
Fish. ’Ave you got a Morris car?
Jenk. Oh, now I see what you re driving at, which is more than I always see when I’m at the wheel myself. However, that’s beside the point.
Fish. Will you answer my question?
Jenk. Let me see, what was it?
Fish. ’Ave you got a Morris car?
Jenk. Yes, just outside the door – come and look at it.
Fish. I’ll inspeck it later. You’ll please to answer a few questions, and it’s my dooty to warn you that anything you says may be used against you.
Jenk. Am I to consider myself under arrest? If it’s not an impertinent question, what crime have I committed?
Fish. Ask no questions and you’ll be told no lies.
Jenk. I might return the compliment – but fire ahead.
Fish. Is your car a two seater or –
Jenk. Right first guess – two seater natty little dickey behind, which just takes my things –
Fish. What’s the number?
Jenk. Blowed if I know – I’ve no head for figures. But if you care to come outside, we’ll have a look at it together.
Fish. What’s your name and address?
Jenk. Arnold Jenkinson, 141 Pleasant Avenue, Forest Hill.
Fish. Where do you come from today?
Jenk. Fleet Street.
Fish. What town might that be in?
Jenk. It might be in almost any town, but actually it is in London.
Fish. Then you’ve come from London.
Jenk. What wonderful reasoning power you have got, Mr. Fish
Fish. That’s as may be. What’s your business in little Popton?
Jenk. Now that’s a dead secret.
Fish. That wont do with me young man.
Jenk. Well, as you’re so pressing about it – there’S really no Secret about it. I’m a special correspondent of the “Daily Mail.”
Fish. You mean you writes for the noospapers?
Jenk. The newspaper. There’s only one newspaper in this country.
Fish. That’s one lie. ’Ow do I know the rest isn’t lies?
Jenk. You’ve only got to run outside the door, Fish, to see that my description of my car is accurate in every detail.
Fish. I will. And I’ll have a look at the one in the garridge, too.
Jenk. Can I run you round there?
Fish. No. You can’t.
(Exit Fish, followed by Guppy.)
Jenk. Cheery old bird, Fish: but I suppose that’s a contradiction in terms. I really must apologise to you, sir: I’m afraid Fish and I have been rather monopolising the conversation. But what’s the stunt, sir. Why this close scrutiny into my private affairs.
Fraser. I hae also been cross-examined though I must admit that my examination didn’t last quite so long. But during your interview with the excellent Mr. Fish I hae been putting twa and twa togither and I hae come to the conclusion that a’ Morris cars are suspect in the neighbourhood of the “Blue Boar.” Hae you seen the leading article in the “daily Mail?”
Jenk. The Harrison article? I wrote it with a towel round my head in the small hours of this morning, The Editor was so struck with the brilliance of my idea that he sent me down here to write up the Harrison Saga and to be in at the death. Instead of which it seems that I in danger of being sent to Princetown for owning a second hand Morris.
Fraser. We are comrades in misfortune, Sir.
Jenk. Shake hands. Oh curse, my engine’s still running. Excuse me a moment. I’ll switch it off, or better still run her round to the garage. I might have another chat with Fish.
(He runs to door and cannons with the Professor, who is just entering. The Professor is an extremely ugly person with no vestige of hair on his head, but an immense quantity on his face. He is at present wearing a square bowler hat.)
Jenk. I beg your pardon, sir. I’ll be back in half a minute to complete my apology. (Exit Jenk.)
Prof. A very impetuous young man. (To Fraser.) Oh, good morning – I should say afternoon – could I have a bedroom for myself and my son – I should say two bedrooms for my son and myself – that is one bedroom each.
Fraser. You are making a mistake, sir. I am a guest in the hotel.
Prof. Oh, I beg your pardon, I’m sure. My eyesight is none of the best. Please forgive my stupidity, Mr. ...
Fraser. Haskins.
Prof. Yes, exactly. Now I wonder where the landlord is – or is he a landlady? So many country inns are kept by women nowadays. Yes. – not that it matters much.
(Enter Guppy, side door.)
Guppy. I beg pardon, Sir. I hope I’ve not kept you waiting.
Prof. Oh, thank you, it’s quite immaterial. I merely wished to inquire whether you have two – oh, by the way, you are the landlady, this time, I hope?
Guppy. This time, sir?
Fraser. The gentleman did me the honour to mistake me for the proprietor.
Guppy. Oh, I see, sir. Yes, sir. I’m the landlord.
Prof. Exactly. Now have you two bedrooms for my son – that is, one bedroom for my son and one for myself?
Guppy. Oh yes. sir. Is the luggage outside, sir?
Prof. Yes, my son will see about that.
(Enter Jim. He is rather a flabby young man, immaculately dressed, with an eyeglass.)
Jim. I say, isn’t there a porter in this dashed inn?
Guppy. I’ll send the man out, sir. (Calls off.) Shuttlefred! Can I assist you, Sir?
Jim. I very much doubt it; the guvnor’s luggage is so dashed heavy.
(Enter Shuttle;)
Guppy. Take these gentlemen’s luggage up to 3 and 8.
Jim. It’s out on the car. I suppose I had better come out and give you a finger. There’s one dashed heavy box.
(Just as Jim is going out, enter Jenk.)
Jenk. I say, are you the owner of that Morris outside?
Jim. Well, I drive it. Actually it belongs to the governor. Why?
Jenk. (Has gone up to the Prof.) My dear sir, you are under grave suspicion here.
Prof. I beg your pardon?
(Jim and Shuttle exeunt)
Jenk. Landlord, send cut for Fish.
Prof. Not on my account, please. I never eat it.
Jenk. Oh, but it is on your account, sir. Landlord, this gentleman has arrived in a Morris two-seater. (Guppy goes to door, looks off and exit.)
Prof. The rapidity with which you change the subject is quite bewildering.
Jenk. But I haven’t changed it at all.
Prof. I fail to see the connection between your request for fish and my arrival in a car. (Enter Shuttle with huge box. Jim with golf clubs and butterfly nets.)
Jenk. Yes, but that’s because you’re not in possession of all the facts –
Shuttle. Which room is this for?
Jim. (Depositing bundles in corner.) What? Oh, that box is the governor’s.
Prof. Put it in the larger and more comfortable room, porter.
Shuttle. Righto, guvnor. (He starts upstairs.)
Jenk. Perhaps I can assist you with a wee bit of an explanation, sir. Have you seen the morning’s “Daily Mail?”
Jim. What? The Harrison stunt? Yes – I’ve been telling the governor about it on the way down?
Jenk. Well, the pollice are keeping an eye on all the Morris cars that stop at this Hotel.
Jim. In case we happen to be gentleman Harrison?
Fraser. Quite so.
Jenk. Yes – we’ve both had a narrow escape from arrest.
Jim. What? Are your buses Morrises too?
Fraser. Aye.
Jenk. Yes.
Jim. That makes three Harrisons.
(Shuttle drops the box with a bang down the stairs.)
Prof. Oh, please see that my box is kept this side up – as marked. It is full of scientific instruments.
Jenk. They must all be kaleidoscopes now.
Shuttle. I’m sorry, sir, It was quite a mistake.
(He rolls the box up the stairs, turning it over and over.)
Jenk. You see, sir, that we are all under suspicion until the police have recaptured Harrison.
Jim. Dash it – we ought to start a Morris League to protect ourselves against the interference of the Law.
Jenk. Brilliant notion that, sir. Entrance fee, nil: qualification – To own a Morris two-seater.
Fraser. Wouldn’t there have to be a further qualification? An escaped convict must have a shaven head; now we do not wish to admit Harrison himself into the League if he would happen to turn up here. If he is disguised he’ll nae doobt be wearing a wig. I suggest that members of the Morris League would be admitted only on the condition that they submit to their hair being pulled by another member. Then we will be safe from imposters.
Jim. Capital notion. As founder of the Morris League I am prepared to undergo the test. (Offers his head to Jenk.)
Jenk. (Pulls his hair quite seriously.) Your hair’s unco slippery, young man, but I’m satisfied ye’re no Harrison.
Jenk. (Offering his head to Jim.) Here goes: but don’t pull too hard.
Jim. Passed. Now for the proposer of the motion. (Fraser’s hair is pulled by Jenk.)
Fraser. If you two young fools want to play silly games, I don’t. I’m going up to unpack. (Exit upstairs.)
Jenk. Bate. (To Prof.) What about you, sir?
Prof. I am afraid I am hardly eligible. (Removing hat: he is completely bald.) You see, I am unable to satisfy the conditions.
Jenk. In that case, gentlemen, I propose that we elect this gentleman an honorary member.
Jim. Hear, hear.
Prof. But is it really true that I may be mistaken by the police for this Henderson?
Jim. Harrison, Dad.
Prof. Exactly, Harrison.
Fraser. It’s not at a’ improbable, sir.
Jenk. The sleuth hounds of the law are on your trail. (Enter Fish, followed by Guppy.) In fact, here is the sleuth. Glad to see you, again, Fish
Fish. (Taking no notice. To Prof.) Is that your car outside?
Prof. I believe so. The car is outside, isn’t it Jim?
Jim. Was five minutes ago.
Fish. Then its my duty to warn you that anythink you says may be used against you. What make of car is it?
Prof. Let me see: my last car was an Alvis: I always knew that because we referred to it as the Alvis. My son always speaks of this one as the ’old bus.’
Fish. Well – I’ve seen it outside. It’s a Morris,
Prof. Then why did you ask me?
Fish. Thowght you might lie – and you ’ave.
Jim. Oh, cut it out, Constable.
Fish. I baint speaking to you, young man. I’ve took the number of your car. Now your name.
Prof. Brand – Professor Brand.
Jenk. (Aside to Fraser.) Christian name Monkey.
Fish. Address?
Prof. 63 Orme Crescent, Bayswater Rd.
Fish. Town?
Prof. Yes – Town.
Fish. Don’t you answer me back. What town?
Jim. Oh, London.
Fish. Who’s this young man?
Prof. My son, Mr. James Brand.
Fish. What’s your business in Little Popton?
Prof. Entomology.
Fish. What’s that?
Prof. I am searching for several unusual specimens of lepidoptera.
Fish. You’d better be careful.
Prof. Exactly. The greatest care is needed in the pursuit of rare species.
Jenk. The gentleman means he is down here to collect butterflies.
Fish. Butter knives?
Jim. Butterflies – moths – you know – little flying creatures.
Fish. Then that’s all.
Prof. Thank you, constable.
(An impatient knock. Enter Haskins – a surly middle-aged man).
Haskins. Which is the landlord?
Guppy. Here, sir. What can I do for you?
Haskins. I want a room for tonight. Can you give me one?
Guppy. Yes, sir. No 1’s vacant sir, Any luggage sir?
Haskins. I’ve told your man to take it off the car.
Guppy. Very good sir.
Haskins. Have you garage room for my car? It’s only a little Morris.
Fish. Two seater?
Haskins. Yes, it is. Why?
Fish. It’s my dooty to inform you again that anything you says may be used against you.
Haskins. Rubbish.
Fish. What’s the number of your car?
Haskins. What on earth has that got to do with you?
Jim. Sportsman.
Fish. Well, I’ve taken it for myself. What’s your name and address?
Haskins. Look here, my man. If you don’t mind your own business, I shall pitch you into the street.
Fish. I beg pardon, sir; that’s using disorderly language to the horficer of the law.
Haskins. Very well, my names’s Haskins.
Fish. With or without a haitch?
Haskins. Haskins.
Fish. Right. A-S-K-I-N-G-S. What’s your address?
(Enter Janet dressed in very masculine costume.)
Janet. Where’s the landlord? (Guppy advances.) Got a room for one night?
Guppy. No 7.
Janet. That’s right. I found your man outside with another car I told him to bring my luggage in too. The cars look like a pair of twins standing there together, one dark and the other fair.
Fish. Not another Morris?
Janet. That’s right. A lttle two-seater.
Fish. Cripes! There’s a regular plague cf Morriseses sarternoon.
Jenk. “And thick and fast they came at last,
And more and more and more.
Fish. It’s my dooty to warn you that anything you says may be used against you.
Janet. Against me?
Fish. Yes, against you. What’s the number of your car?
Janet. PY 6285. Why?
Fish. What’s your name?
Janet. Janet Butterwick.
Fish. Now don’t try to be funny, young man.
(Janet has just taken off her Burberry and revealed a skirt.)
Cripes! It’s a maid.
Janet. Quite so. Have you done with me?
Fish. I don’t rightly knew –
Janet. Right you are. Let me know when you do. Perhaps one of you gentlemen can explain what all this is about.
(Janet joins two young men: they begin explaining the situation to her in undertones.)
Fish. Mr. Guppy.
Guppy. Well, Joe?
Fish. I don’t rightly know what to do here.
Guppy. How’s that?
Fish. Well, my instructions don’t say nowt abaht women. Then there’s another thing.
Guppy. What’s that?
Fish. Well, taint the coat as makes the man, if you understand my meaning. And taint the skirt as makes the woman, in a manner of speaking.
Guppy. What are you getting at, Joe?
Fish. Well, I am puzzled. Is that a man passing isself off as a woman – or a woman passing erself off as a man?
Guppy. Oh, she’s a girl all right.
Fish. I bain’t so sure. I better telephone for instructions. You can’t tell with a bloke like Harrison.
(Exit Fish. He meets Shuttle, entering with a suitcase.)
Guppy. (To Shuttle.) That’s for no 7. along the landing.
Shuttle. Righto, guvnor
Jim. Well, Miss Butterwick, that’s the idea of the Morris League. You’re free to join us if you like.
Janet. Rather sport. Of course I’ll join.
Jenk. There’s only one other condition, Miss Butterwick. And it’s a wee bit awkward in the case of a lady.
Jim. You see, in case you’re wearing a wig you must have your hair pulled by another member of the League.
Janet. As long as you don’t pull too hard –
Jenk. What about a local rule? Lady members may pull their own hair in the presence of a committee appointed by the League?
Fraser. Brilliant, Mr. Jenkinson.
Jim. Carried, nem. con. We are the Committee.
Janet. (Pulling her hair) Is that hard enough?
Jenk. The Committee is satisfied.
Jim. (To Haskins.) I suppose we can count you in, Mr. Haskins?
Haskins. Certainly not.
Jim. You’ll lie under serious suspicion if you refuse to join, you know.
Haskins. I’ll have nothing to do with such ridiculous tomfoolery. (Bell rings. Guppy goes to the door. Shuttle appears at top of stairs.)
Jenk. Harrison at last.
(Guppy ushers in Sir David and Lady Grubb. Sir D. is a short stout prosperous business man with a strong Yorkshire accent. Lady G. is made up and has a mass of bright yellow hair: she talks with a drawl, and her pretensions to gentility make her much commoner than her husband.)
Sir D. Now, ma man, ’er you got any rooms for us for t’naaht?
Guppy. Yes, sir. There’s No. 6 and No. 8.
Sir D. Reaht. T’luggage is on t’car.
Guppy. Very good, sir. Shuttlefred – fetch up this gentleman’s luggage: No 5 and No 8.
Shuttle. Righto, guvnor.
Lady G. The chauffeur can help you up with it.
Jenk. (To others.) It’s not a two-seater.
Shuttle. It’s all right. I can manage. (Exit Shuttle.)
Fraser. (Indicating arm chair.) Come and sit down richt here, madam.
Lady G. Thaanks. (She does so.)
Jim. Come far, sir?
Sir D. From ’Uddersfield.
Jim. Curious thing, sir – everyone stopping in this hotel has come here in a Morris two-seater.
Lady G. Very singular. Such cheap cars.
Sir D. Ay. Ah’ve coom dahn in ma Rolls.
Lady G. My ’us – husband, Sir David, prefers the Polls for long distances. In ’Uddersfield we generally use the Bentley.
Sir D. Ay. Or t’Daimler.
Janet. Much more convenient to have a little car for traffic, certainly.
Sir D. Ma Waafe, Laady Grubb –
Jenk. (taken aback, same accent) Grubb!
Lady G. Graab.
Jenk. (Excited.) – Not the Lady Grubb?
Lady G. Well, I don’t know any other Grubbs.
Sir D. Noa: Grubbs is dying oot in ’Uddersfield.
Jenk. But the owner of the Grubb diamond?
Lady G. The former owner.
Jenk. What amazing luck! My dear madam, will you allow me the privilege of an interview. There’s my card, I represent the “Daily Mail.”
Sir D. Ay. T’Daily Mail brought us doon here today.
Jenk. Not my article?
Sir D. T’leading article. You see Lady Grubb she says to me: “David, we maun goa doon to Little Popton.”
Lady G. We thought that if Harrison came to recover the diamond, we had better on the spot.
Jim. I suppose you know that we are all under suspicion of being disguised Harrisons. You shouldn’t confide in us too much.
Lady G. Oh, I’m sure I should know, if Harrison was in the room.
Sir D. Laake a goose walking over your grave, eh, Lizzie?
(Enter Shuttle with luggage, leaves door open.)
Lady G. I’m feeling all goosey flesh now. (Looks round – sees Shuttle – also open door.) Oh, I see, the door’s open. It must have been the draught.
(Jim shuts the door. Shuttle takes luggage upstairs.)
Fraser. Weel – if Harrison does na arrive soon, there’ll be nae mair room for him.
Jenk. There are too many Harrisons here already.
Jim. How many more bedrooms are there, Mr. Guppy?
Guppy. Only one, sir, No. 2.
Fraser. You had better label it “Reserved far Harrison.
Jenk. We may conclude that the next arrival will be Harrison himself.
(The door opens and Sergeant Ruggles and Fish enter.)
Lady G. There’s that draught again.
(All turn round quickly, then glance at one another and smile.)
Jim. Bit of an anticlimax, what?
Ruggles. Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. I’ve been sent over from Peterborough to make a few inquiries: probably you’ve all read the sensational news in this morning’s paper. (Murmurs of assent.) Now it’s just possible that Harrison may turn up here. (Shuttle appears at top of gallery and stands listening.) I don’t say as it’s likely, mind – but it’s possible. Well, that being the case, it’s my duty to suspect everyone alike until they are proved innocent by conclusive evidence. (Everyone a little uncomfortable.) I must therefore request that no one leaves the hotel until I give my permission.
Haskins. Nonsense, I must go down to the Club House after tea.
Ruggles. Very sorry, sir –
Haskins. My good man, I must know my starting time tomorrow.
Ruggles. I’m afraid I cant allow it, sir.
Prof. Did I understand you to say, Officer, that you suspect us all of being Harrison?
Ruggles. Well, not quite that, sir. But until I have made careful inquiries, my suspicion must rest on all alike.
Prof. Thank you: that is quite clear now. I apologise for interrupting.
Ruggles. Now, Constable, you say that all these ladies and gentlemen have come here in Morris two-seater cars?
Fish. That’s right, Sergeant.
Sir D. Ah caame in a Rolls.
Lady G. We came in a Rolls.
Ruggles. How’s that, Constable?
Jim. (In an undertone.) Not out.
Sir D. The Constable wasn’t here when we came.
Ruggles. Have you seen these two people before, Constable?
Fish. Never clapped eyes on that woman.
Lady G. Constable.
Ruggles. Very good. Now what’s your name, sir?
Sir D. Grubb.
Lady G. Sir David Grubb, Officer. I am Lady Grubb.
Ruggles. The owner of the Grubb diamond, I presume.
Sir D. She was. I may say that Lady Grubb’s offer of a reward of £5000 still holds good if the jool is returned to her.
Jim. Who’ll be the lucky man?
Ruggles. Probably I shall. Now we mustn’t waste time. I shall want to see everyone alone: have you a private sitting room, landlord?
Guppy. Yes, Sergeant. There’s one opening off the bar.
Ruggles. That’ll do. Constable, you will remain on duty outside the front door of the hotel. If an anyone wishes to come in; let him; but no one must go out.
Fish. Right you are, Sergeant. ’Ow long’ll you be likely to be?
Ruggles. Probably not more than three or four hours.
Fish. Cripes! Bring me out a pint abaht every ’alf hour, Mr. Guppy.
(Guppy nods and winks and Fish exit, closing door.)
Ruggles. Now then: I’ll start with Sir David Grubb. (Sir D. rises looking very self-conscious.) Then I’ll go on with Lady Grubb.
Jim. Talking of grub, what time’s the tea interval?
Guppy. I’ll send tea in here, sir. Shuttlefred!
Shuttle. ’Ullo, guvnor. (From gallery.)
Guppy. Tea for (counts) eight. And look sharp about it.
Shuttle. Righto, guvnor. (He slouches downstairs.)
Ruggles. Look here, landlord. This investigation will take some time: secondly, I ought to be on the spot here to night. I suppose there’s some place where I can have a shake down?
Guppy. There’s a bedroom empty upstairs, Sergeant, No. 2.
Fraser. Reserved for Harrison (rest can hardly restrain their laughter.)
Ruggles. That’ll do me fine. Now, Sir David, I’m ready when you are – oh, landlord, can you have my car taken round to your garridge: it’s just outside the door – a little two-seater Morris. (This time the others begin laughing and talking.) Now Sir David. (Sir D. walks across to the door looking as if he were being conducted back to the cells.)
Lady G. There’s nothing to be nervous about, dear.
Jenk. (Advancing from the group and shaking Ruggles by the hand.) Sergeant, it is my great privilege to inform you that you have been unanimously elected a member of the Morris League. (Ruggles stares at him without expression.)
CURTAIN