ffji. m II ' "l 'l»fl'ifi )'i|| i i'i i| i r4t " ||li j j ltfl li ll ' i l ii ji, ' i>ii. jji , uAi '•^h'J>i4 '\^r .1 i'' \u 1 V 4- ^ CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Joseph Whitmore Barry dramatic library THE GIFT OF TWO FRIENDS OF Cornell University 1934 Cornell University Library PR 6011. A25E2 1910a The earth; a modern play In four acts, by 3 1924 013 610 872 The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013610872 PLUrS OF TO-'DAr UND TO-MORROW THE EARTH THE EARTH A M0DER3<^ TLAT J^VC FOUli^ ACTS BY JAMES 'BERNARD FAGAS^ NEW YORK: DUFFIELD y COMPANY 1,910 OTHO STUART (All rights reserved.) CHARACTERS The Earl of Killone Sir Felix Janion The Right Hon. Denzil Trevena, M.P. Michael Dickson Roger Morrish James Bent Rev. Malcolm Mackenzie Hector Stronge Henry Robinson Tupper Parker The Countess of Killone Lady Susan Sturrage Miss Janion " The Earth " was produced at the Kingsway Theatre on April 14, 1909, under the joint management of Miss Lena Ashwell and Mr. Otho Stuart. The cast was as follows : The Earl of Killone Sir Felix Janion The Rt. Hon. Denzil Trevena, M Michael Dickson Roger Morrish James Bent Rev. Malcolm Mackenzie Hector Stronge Henry Robinson Tupper Parker The Countess of Killone... Lady Susan Sturrage Miss Janion ..., Mr. Dennis Eadie Mr. Norman McKinnel Mr. Allan Aynesworth Mr. a. G. Poulton Mr. C. M. Hallard Mr. Reginald Eyre Mr. Lemmon Warde Mr. Ernest Young Mr. Arthur Phillips Mr. Cecil Rose Mr. Roderick McLeod Miss Lena Ashwell Miss Sarah Brooke Miss Florence Haydon The First Act. The Elizabethan Garden, Arrowleigh Court. Whit Sunday morning. The Second Act. The Library, Arrowleigh Court. Afternoon. The Third Act. Trevena's Study, Queen Anne's Gate. Thursday night. The Fourth Act. The Chief's Office, Janion Buildings, E.C. Friday morning. Time : To-morrow. THE FIRST ACT THE FIRST ACT The Elizabethan garden at Arrowleigh Court. On either side are round tables half surrounded by curved seats. Two flights of steps descend through openings in the yew hedge. Between these is an arbour of clipped yew, in which is a table. A few garden chairs are about. {When the curtain rises, Lady Susan Sturrage is discovered on the left, seated on the curved wooden bench, with her feet up, and a large cushion behind her. She is smoking a cigarette with a holder, and reading a novel bound in vivid purple. She is a woman well over forty ; her hair is the red that never was on human head, her complexion is obviously the highest art con- cealing nature. Otherwise a clever woman, with the eye of a bird of prey. A moment later Hector Stronge comes down the steps on the right. He is a young man with a keen, sharp- nosed face, who was born older than he will probably ever look. His manner is supremely self-confident. He carries a bundle of papers and a number of letters. He is followed by a man servant in livery, carrying a telephone. 11 12 THE EARTH The servant comes down the steps and goes into the arbour. Stronge puts the newspapers on the garden seat on the right.) Stronge. I thought you'd gone to church, Lady Susan. Lady Susan. You did me an injustice. Sunday is my day of rest. Stronge. You look pretty comfy. Lady Susan. Pretty well, thanks. What are all those papers ? — you're not going to disturb me with a sermon ? Stronge. {Putting the letters, &c., on the table.) Sir Felix always works out here on Sundays. Lady Susan. Here! Stronge. If it's fine enough. (To the servant, who is bending down looking at the telephone plug on the table in the arbour.) What's the matter, Tupper ? TUPPER. A small snail in one of the holes of the plug, sir. Stronge. Oh, shove it in and smash it ! We can't waste time over a snail. THE EARTH 13 TUPPER. (Shoving in the plug.) Yes, sir. Stronge. Put us on to the office. TuPPER. Yes, sir. (He goes out.) Lady Susan. (Looking round.) What's that ? A telephone ? Stronge. Yes. Lady Susan. I knew he had one in nearly every room in the house — but the garden ! Where is Sir Felix ? Stronge. For the first time in my experience, he's gone to church. Lady Susan. Has he a telephone there ? Stronge. (Laughing.) If he went often enough, I've no doubt he'd have one laid on to his pew. Lady Susan. Wonderful man ! (Lowering her voice slightly.) Is it true, Mr. Stronge, that he's an American by birth ? 14 THE EARTH Stronge. He was born in America. Lady Susan. Where ? Stronge. New York, I think. His mother was Scotch — Scottish, I mean, and his father was a German. Lady Susan. German ! — surely Janion's an Enghsh name. Stronge. His real name was Jansen (pronounced lansen). Lady Susan. A free translation ! (With a laugh.) German and Scottish ! — it's a good grasping blend. No wonder he is what he is. Stronge. Successful ? Lady Susan. Well, that's the result. (Stronge smiles.) I suppose he borrowed his methods from his birthplace. Stronge. (Shaking his head) They were born in him. His people migrated to Canada, and at seventeen he had founded a newspaper in the little backwoods town where they lived. Later he went to Montreal, where he THE EARTH 15 ran a couple of evening papers. They were of opposite politics, and " went for " each other in such sensational language that soon everybody in the place was buying one or the other. He came to England twenty-three years ago, and to-day he owns nearly two-thirds of the papers in the country. Lady Susan. Great Heavens ! Where is he going to stop ? {Voices are heard outside on the left.) Stronge. {Smiling.) I've been three years with him — and I haven't an idea. {He bends forward, looking out.) Lady Susan. Who's that ? Stronge. Miss Janion and Lady Killone. Lady Susan. Lord Killone hasn't put in an appearance this morning. Stronge. No. Lady Susan. It struck me he was a trifle elevated last night. Stronge. Trifle, ha ! He'll drink himself to death one of these days. 16 THE EARTH Lady Susan. Not he ! it's wonderful how long you can preserve a beast in alcohol. Stronge. {With feeling.) How could she have married that . . . Lady Susan. She ? — Oh ? (Smiling at him.) So you admire her ? Stronge. Yes. I think she's splendid. I admire cold women. Lady Susan. {Smiling with half-shut eyes.) Kitty Killone — cold ! I wonder. (Miss Janion and Lady Killone appear at head of steps on the left. Miss Janion is a placid, un- critical, elderly lady, who believes everything she reads and most of what she hears. Lady Killone is a woman of remarkable beauty. Her manner outwardly is one of great reserve tinged with irony, but she is capable of intense enthusiasm and extreme vivacity.) Miss Janion. My dear Lady Susan, you should have come with us. Such a wonderful sermon. {Coming down the steps.) Lady Susan. Really ! — some new sensation in sin ? Miss Janion. No, no, no, nothing unpleasant. It was on — some- THE EARTH 17 thing about the dignity of work ; I couldn't follow it all, but Mr. Fellows has such a beautiful voice, and such feeling. Stronge. The Reverend Mr. Fellows is an out-and-out socialist. Sir Felix has his eye on him. {In tones of grave disapproval.) (Miss Janion sits near the table on the right.) Lady Killone. (Coming down the steps.) What has Mr. Fellows done to deserve that ? He seemed to me a simple, earnest man speaking what he believed to be true. Stronge. The pulpit is not the place for truths of that kind. Lady Killone. I suppose it is startling to hear anything but comfort- able platitudes from the pulpit. {Sitting near Miss Janion.) Stronge. You must admit, Lady Killone, that it's scarcely calculated to promote good feeling in the district, to tell a congregation, largely composed of agricultural labourers, that it is a moral impossibility to bring up a healthy Christian family on thirteen shillings a week, and that those who asked them to do it were violating the law of the Old Testament and the spirit of the New. He said that last Sunday. The Squire was furious. 2 18 THE EARTH Miss Janion. He's still furious. He buttonholed Sir Felix coining out of church, and he hasn't let him go yet. Lady Susan. Who is the patron of the living ? Can't he do something ? Miss Janion. The Earl of Horseleigh. Stronge. Unfortunately, Horseleigh's son is a Radical M.P., so the Reverend F. knows he can let himself go with impunity. Lady Killone. What does Sir Felix propose ? Stronge. The Squire wants him to get up a newspaper agitation. Lady Killone. Ah! Stronge. Of course, we can always get up agitations in our papers ; we like 'em. Unfortunately, the reverend gentleman would like it too. It's advertisement. Be- sides, the columns of our three principal papers, The Earth, The Searchlight, and The Eagle, are pretty well THE EARTH 19 loaded up with the agitation against Trevena's Wages BiU. (Lady Susan yawns.) Lady Killone. Yes, I've seen that. One wonders on what prin- ciple of justice you pass wholesale condemnation on a Bill that hasn't yet been presented to Parliament. Stronge. We condemn the principle of the Bill, Lady Killone. We can't wait, because we want to get at it before the other papers begin. Lady Killone. I see. The justice of Judge Lynch applied to journalism — delightful ! Stronge. What do you mean ? Lady Killone. You hang the prisoner before trial, for fear anyone else should get the credit of hanging him afterwards. Lady Susan. {Lazily smoking.) You appear to feel very strongly about Mr. Trevena's Bill, Lady Killone. Lady Killone. I should have thought all women would feel strongly about it. Part of it is designed to put an end to the sweating of women and children. 20 THE EARTH Stronge. Well, Sir Felix doesn't approve of the Bill. There are many vital objections Lady Susan. {Dropping her book.) Oh ! I hope you are not .going to give them to us, Mr. Stronge. (Stronge picks up her book and hands it to her.) Politics on a Sunday morning ! — really, I prefer a sermon. Stronge. {Laughing.) You're quite safe. I haven't time for either. {To Miss Janion.) Sir Felix is coming back Miss Janion. Oh yes, yes — the moment he can shake off the Squire. Stronge. I'd better go and see. {He goes out, up the steps on the right.) Miss Janion. My dear Lady Killone, I hope you don't think my brother is lacking in sympathy for the working classes. Nobody could accuse him of that. Lady Killone. Oh, please, I don't accuse him — I'm sure his motives are excellent. Miss Janion. No one has better motives. He is always doing THE EARTH 21 something for them. Raising subscriptions for the unemployed, looking out for sensational cases of hard- ship — all his papers are on the alert — his watch-dogs, he calls them. Hardly a week but somewhere in the columns of The Earth, or of The Searchlight, or of The Eagle, or one of the others, you will find a harrowing story of unmerited poverty. He gives publicity, and the pubUc gives subscriptions. Lady Killone. Yes, he does a great deal of good in that curious way. Lady Susan. And no gratitude. But that's the way with the working classes. The more they get, the more they want. Lady Killone. The failing is hardly peculiar to the working classes. Miss Janion. That is true. Dear me — there are a great many things wrong with the world. But I think you must admit that my brother is doing his best to put them right. You may think it my partiality, but I believe Sir Felix has more power for good than all the preachers, police, and politicians in the country. {With a little laugh.) And nothing is too small for him. If a child gets lost, if a wife strays from her husband 22 THE EARTH Lady Susan. Eh? Miss Janion. Or the other way about — is it the poHce who find them ? No, my brother — he always gets in first. And if there's a mystery, a scandal, an abuse, he never rests till he roots it out and sets it right. He's just watching over everything that goes on everywhere, and keeping it up to the mark. When I think of all he is doing, I can't help feeling — I say it with all reverence — that Sir Felix is, in a way, a kind of special providence. Lady Killone. Indeed, one might almost say an " extra special " providence. Miss Janion. (Rising and coming to Lady Susan.) Won't you come and see my bed of Darwin tulips ? Lady Susan. {Making a languid attempt to move.) Delighted. Miss Janion. {Confidentially.) You see, we mustn't stay here. My brother works here. This spot is sacred to him on Sundays. (Miss Janion goes up the steps on the left with Lady Susan. At the top she turns.) Won't you come too, Lady Killone? Lady Killone. I should like to. THE EARTH 23 (Lady Killone crosses leisurely to the steps on the left. Miss Janion and Lady Susan go out. As Lady Killone ascends the steps Lord Killone comes down the steps on the right. He is a " sporting gentleman " of the type that suggests a publican rather than a peer. Dark hair going thin, an eyeglass and a cropped brush-like moustache, are the striking features in a face whose complexion is as the wine when it is red. His expression is that of a bad- tempered bull-dog, and, from his manner, it is very early morning, and he is feeling rather " boiled.") Killone. Kitty, I want to speak to you. Lady Killone. (Turning.) Really ! {She comes down.) Well — hadn't we better say good-morning? Killone. Don't be a fool. {He sits beside the table on the right.) Lady Killone. You don't appear to have had a good night. Killone. Good ! — those damned peacocks woke me at five. Lady Killone. (With a little laugh.) I had imagined you were 24 THE EARTH fortified against anything. What do you want to say ? {Sitting on the long seat on the left.) KiLLONE. I want to get away to-day. Lady Killone. To-day ? Killone. {Nodding.) After lunch. Lady Killone. How can we ? — without being very rude. We were asked for the week-end. Killone. Oh, that's elastic. I'm goin' to Kempton Park first thing in the mornin'. I want to see Bob Langton in town to-night and several — anyway, I'm goin'. Lady Killone. As you please. I shall be ready. I assure you, I didn't want to come. It must be three years since we paid a visit together. Killone. I'll be damned glad if it's six before it happens again. Lady Killone. Thanks, that is one point of cordial agreement. I have )3een anxious to discover what you could have in common with Sir Felix Janion. THE EARTH 25 KiLLONE. I hope you're satisfied. Lady Killone. No. Whatever else he may be, the man has brains and he's a worker. What made you insist on our coming here ? (He smokes without replying.) Do you owe him money, or are you merely anxious to do so ? Killone. That's my business. Lady Killone. Borrowing — I suppose so. Killone. You always did have a nasty tongue. What the devil can I do ? I had a letter from Killone yester- day. O'Shaughnessy writes the tenants won't give more than eighteen years' purchase — if we can't get twenty the mortgages will eat the lot. That's ^ pretty prospect. Lady Killone. What prospect ? Killone. Livin' in Ireland — Killone Park twelve months in the bally year. Lady Killone. (Agitated.) It — ^it can't — it surely won't mean that. (Rising.) 26 THE EARTH KiLLONE. Won't it? But you needn't care. The place is cold and damp — you'll find it congenial. Lady Killone. Do you mean we have got to spend the rest of our lives — together — in that Killone. Have you any money ? Lady Killone. You've already borrowed half my dress allowance — as you did last year. Killone. That's like a woman. Blackguard me for tryin' to raise the wind somehow, and then dun me — dun me. Lady Killone. No. I only ask you to leave me out of your "wind-raising" expeditions. You told me we were coming here because you wanted Sir Felix to oppose the new Gaming Act in his papers. It's to borrow money you came. I don't know how you feel about staying here . . . Killone. Bored to death. {Rising.) Lady Killone. To me it's humiliating — I feel ashamed. Do you THE EARTH 27 think I have no pride left ? — Oh, what's the good of talking ! KiLLONE. {Leaning against the arbour smoking.) Pride — you had the biggest dowry of damned Irish pride that ever came into the market — but we can't live on it. Lady Killone. What time do we start ? Killone. I told Skinner to have the motor at three. {The telephone bell in the arbour goes off suddenly in a pro- longed peal. Lord Killone nearly jumps out of his skin; then turns and glares angrily at it.) What the d what's an infernal thing like that doin' in the garden ? — Good God ! at this hour of the mornin' too. (Stronge hurries on. As he comes down the steps on the right the telephone bell rings again; he goes to it. Sir Felix Janion appears, following him. He is a man over fifty, of huge, burly frame. His strong, clean-cut face is shaven, except for small whiskers. His face is enormously powerful, and his mouth shuts like a steel trap. A high forehead surmounted by crisp curling hair. His movements are quick and resolute, and his speech, which is decisive even to brusque- ness, still retains the nasal twang of the American accent. His conversational manner at times suggests a bullying K.C. cross-examining a timid witness, at other times he cultivates a breezy heartiness which is stimulating, but not restful. The whole man is uncomfortably alive.) 28 THE EARTH Stronge. Excuse me. (He lifts the receiver.) Yes — ^yes — he's just coining ... Sir Felix . . . Janion. {Coming down the steps.) Ah, Killone ! glad to see you up. Killone. Improving the shinin' hour, as usual. Janion. You should make him go to church. Lady Killone — follow my good example. {Going to telephone.) You'll excuse me, I know. Lady Killone. I'm afraid we're in the way. Janion. No, no, no, no ! — Just a moment. Stronge. {Handing Janion the receiver.) Burrows at the office, sir. {During the following speech Lady Killone goes slowly up the steps. When she hears Trevena's name, she stops and listens.) Janion. Ah! {To the telephone.) Well, Burrows — yes — yes {pause) ; splendid — yes — in to-morrow's issue {longer THE EARTH 29 pause). Yes, yes, the whole thing — (slight pause) every word of it ! {Longer pause.) We'll risk the libel action — in fact, we court it. (Slight pause.) The man in the street is for us — ^yes — yes — doesn't matter who's against us. Mr. Morrish and Mr. Dickson haven't turned up — eh ? — oh ! (Looks at his watch.) They ought to be here. (Longer pause.) Mr. Trevena is coming over for lunch — if there's any change for to-morrow, I'll let you know at once — right — right. (He replaces the receiver and comes down.) By the way, Killone, you know Trevena, of course. Killone. Yes, yes, I know him. My wife knows him better than I do. She's on the committee of the Women's Political Union — they've captured Trevena. He'll bring in a Bill for them — one of these days — you wait. Janion. Didn't know you were a suffragette. Lady Killone. Lady Killone. (On the steps.) Yes — with limitations. You needn't picture me as Andromeda chained to Downing Street railings, and waiting for Perseus, in the shape of a policeman, to wrench me free — I'm not that sort of suffragette. Killone. A lot o' silly women that want spankin' ! Janion. I wish they'd let me settle the suffragette question. 30 THE EARTH Lady Killone. You do settle most things, don't you, Sir Felix ? I promised Miss Janion to go and look at her tulips. (She goes out by the steps on the left!) Janion. {Turning to Stronge.) See if Dickson and Morrish have come. I'll see them here. (Stronge goes out on the right.) Killone. Tell me if I'm keepin' you from your work, Janion. Janion. No, no — I'm waiting for my editor and managing director. Killone. I'm most awfully obliged to you for the loan of that couple of thou'. Janion. My dear Killone, don't mention it. {Sits at the table on the right and begins opening his letters.) Killone. These damned Irish tenants are tryin' to beggar us. It's worse than the old shootin' game. You did have a sportin' chance then, anyhow. Janion. Yes, it's been shoot you first and rob you afterwards. THE EARTH 31 And the poor British taxpayer pays for both pro- ceedings. KiLLONE. What I want to know is, what is the Government goin' to do for the poor unemployed landlord ? What's the man like me to do for a living ? Janion. It's a difificult question. (Suddenly slapping his knee.) By Jove, that's an idea ! You write me a letter on the subject next week. I'll publish it in The Earth, and we'll get up a correspondence on it — capital ! {Makes a note.) KiLLONE. Company directin's right off — they won't have us — and what else can I do ? Seems to me there's nothing left for us, but the chance of catchin' a Yankee wife with a couple of canned millions — and, of course, I'm out of that gamble. Janion. You're a prize-winner already — you can't grumble. KiLLONE. Humph ! Strikes me most of us get married when we're too young to know the value of money. (Stronge returns, followed by Roger Morrish and Michael Dickson. The first is a man about forty, with a clear-cut, thoughtful face, dark hair beginning to go grey at the temples, quiet, well- bred manner without a trace of aggressiveness. The second man is the complete antithesis of the 32 THE EARTH first. Vital, self-reliant, thick-skinned and push- ful to an abnormal degree, he is a man to get on at any cost to anybody ; yet without malice. His commonplace appearance is intensified by the latest thing in " spring suitings for country wear," and his taste is hall-marked by an impossible tie. He speaks with a strong Belfast accent. They come down.) Janion. Ah, Michael, glad to see you ! Morning, Morrish. Dickson. Howerye, Sir Felix ? (Shakes hands.) Janion. Ai. Ai. A day in the country'U do you a lot of good. Dickson. Yer right there. Janion. Let me introduce you. Lord Killone, this is Mr. Dickson, my managing director. (Dickson crosses to Killone.) Mr. Morrish, the editor of The Earth. Killone. {Rising and nodding.) Howdedo — howdedo,? (Morrish bows.) Dickson. {Grasps Killone's hand.) I'm proud to meet you, THE EARTH 33 my lord. I've often heard tell o' ye from Sir Felix. You're an Irishman — like myself. KiLLONE. Er — yes. I'm Irish — worse luck. Dickson. I come from the North — Belfast — that's the real in- tellectual centre of Ireland — that's where the money's made. Belfast's gettin' on at a queer rate. KiLLONE. Is it ? Glad to hear it. (Turns and goes up.) I'll leave you to your work, Janion. Janion. See you at lunch, then. KiLLONE. Right-0 ! {He goes out by the steps on the left.) Janion. Now then — sit down, Morrish, sit down. (Morrish sits at the table facing Janion, Stronge, standing a little way behind him, takes out note-hook and stylograph.) Hasn't Mr. Dickson said anything to you about Dickson. Not a word. It'll come stronger from the source. Janion. Um ! Well, there's no good wasting words. Morrish, I'm not satisfied with your work. 3 34 THE EARTH MORRISH. {Gasping slightly.) I — I'm very sorry — to hear that. Janion. I've no fault to find with you personally — I believe you do your best according to your lights — but they're not my lights. My contract with you is for four years. MORRISH. With the option of terminating it at the end of the first year. Janion. Um ! your year's nearly up. MORRISH. July the first. Janion. Exactly. (Looking through the papers on the table.) Where are those circulation returns ? (Stronge moves forward, takes a sheet from another bundle and hands it to him.) Here we are. {Looking at paper.) From July to October the circulation of The Earth increased steadily — the average rate of the past few years. November, December — fluctuated. In January our average fell to about two millions a day, in February a little below that, March nearly reached two millions. In April again a little drop. You see, we're stationary — stagnation since the beginning of the year. MORRISH. That's so — but all business is stationary just now. THE EARTH 35 Janion. That mustn't affect us. If we're not growing we're dying. It took me seven years to make The Earth. Now it's done, you've got to keep it humming, see ! MORRISH. But you can't go on increasing for ever. Surely circulation has a limit of elasticity, like everything else. Janion. It has. When there isn't a man or woman in the world who doesn't read one of my papers in the morning, I'll admit you've reached it. Dickson. Not a bit of it ! Man dear, by that time we'll be in communication with Mars, and be runnin' a wee special edition of our own up there. Janion. (Laughing.) That's the spirit, Michael ! {To Mor- RiSH.) That's the true spirit of business enterprise. Imagination — no limit to the possibilities of expansion. When the circulation of all my papers together is the same figure as the population of the world — then you can come and talk to me about your limits of elasticity. MORRISH. (With a smile.) It doesn't leave much room for our " esteemed contemporaries." Janion. Their room is better than their company. Let them 36 THE EARTH look out for themselves — we're not running a Friendly Society. Dickson. In business every man's for himself. Don't stand about waitin' for dead men's shoes — ^jump into them while they're asleep. That's my motto. {He walks round to the right of the table.) MORRISH. If you blame me for the falling circulation, I suppose you can point out in what way I am at fault. Janion. Yes, I can. The paper's losing its grip — it doesn't " pull " — it hasn't the old snap. Dickson. To put it plainly, it's lost its guts. {Putting a hand on Morrish's shoulder.) Janion. Before I went into journalism, wives used to ask over the breakfast table, " Anything in the paper, dear ? " and the husband invariably replied, " Nothing, darling." Well, I changed all that. If any man says that with one of my papers in front of him, he's a liar ; if he isn't, my editor's a fool. MORRISH. Still, there must always be days when nothing really important happens. Janion. No, there mustn't. You've got to make things happen. THE EARTH 37 That's what you're there for. Heavens, man, haven't we got correspondents in every corner of the globe ? Things are always happening — if you can't see impor- tance into them, you haven't got the journalistic eye — that's all. Dickson. You want to look as if you were burstin' with in- formation, even when you've nothing to say. You want to dress your windows, as I used to say in the drapery trade. Janion. That's it — that's it ! {Snapping his fingers.) Give me that copy of The Earth, Michael — Friday's — Friday's — that's it. (Dickson hands him a paper which he takes from among several others on the seat. Janion, opening it and slapping the principal page with the back of his hand.) Now look at this. The Battersea Abduction Case. One miserable headline, and two inches of type. Why — no one would notice it. MORRISH. I hoped not. I thought it was hardly the thing to give the average man an appetite for his breakfast. The details are revolting — it's a filthy case. Janion. You thought so ? Do you know that The Morning Budget gave it six headlines and two columns and a haU? Evidence in full — drama of low life — drama of the most intense and sordid realism. 38 THE EARTH MORRISH. The Morning Budget is a gutter rag. I thought it was the policy of The Earth to take a higher tone. Janion. You think again, Morrish, and think quick. Gutter ! Gutter ! You can't afford to turn up your nose at the gutter. You've got to write for the man in the street — if he isn't in the gutter, he's pretty near it. Morrish. Newspapers have no right to publish these details of sordid crime. It's only pandering to morbid curiosity. The power of suggestion on weak minds is greater than you think. Janion. Morrish, if you're a newspaper man your business is to sell news. If you want to sell moral lessons — that's the parson's trade. Dickson. The public want dirt — give 'em dirt. Culture's all very well in its way — you're an Oxford man, I know. But, man dear, that's not what gets the Big, Big- hearted Public. Oxford's not worth that ! {snapping his fingers) for gettin' on in business. I never went t' Oxford. I began life as a lennen-draper's assistant at nine shillin's a week — an' look at me now. Janion. Michael's quite right. Your methods are too kid- gloved, Morrish, too nice — too nice. You've got to THE EARTH 39 get the Oxford spirit out of you — it won't wash- it isn't the spirit of the age. Dickson. A leadin' Ught so far above their heads that no one can see it is damned bad advertisement. Janion. {Taking up The Earth and walking about.) I'm all for high ideals myself — in their proper place. They're splendid — inspiring — ^lift you out of yourself ! If you want to write a series of articles deploring the material- ism of the age — write 'em. Stick them into the leader page. Shove your whole heart and soul into them, let them be as idealistic and all the rest of it as you like. But {holding up a warning finger) don't you let any of that spirit leak out over the rest of my paper. {He goes to the table, takes up another copy of The Earth, and opens it.) Dickson. {Patting Morrish's shoulder.) Don't you monkey with your ideas. Janion. Here's the kind of thing that won't do. {Looking at the paper.) If your Manchester correspondent can't give you better copy out of a iirst-class railway smash, you give him the sack. {He throws the paper on the table) MORRISH. He sent all the essential facts. 40 THE EARTH Janion. Facts !— What's that got to do with it ? There's no colour, no details, no imagination. {Tapping the paper.) He's got to make you see this accident — sling his news at you in spasms — hurl it at you in raw chunks of bleeding humanity. {Going away.) If he can't, let him go and grow flowers somewhere — we've no use for him. When people open their papers in the morning, let them think the world's upside down. Take their breath away — hit them in the eye, bang, every day. They like it — it's a tonic. It makes them think they're jolly lucky they're alive. {The telephone bell rings. Dickson hurries to the telephone.) Dickson. {At the telephone.) Aye — aye — it's me. {Pause.) Man dear ! tsch ! tsch ! tsch ! {Turning to the others.) Laffan's Agency cable just in — earthquake in Antigua — hundred and fifteen killed. Janion. Dreadful ! — dreadful ! Dickson. {To telephone) What's that? {Pause) Fifteen hun- dred killed !— that's better ! that's better ! Janion. {With a lew whistle) Terrible — terrible ! By Jove ; lucky for us it's Sunday — no evening papers. Dickson. {To the telephone — disappointed) Oh ! — oh ! — is that so ? THE EARTH 41 Janion. Well, what's the matter with it ? Dickson. Nearly all blacks. Janion. Oh ! — I suppose that's a mercy. Dickson. Aye — {To the telephone.) What's that you say ? . . . (Pause.) Man dear, that's dreadful. {To Janion.) We've no special correspondent in Antigua. Janion. Of course we have — we must have. MORRISH. {Rising.) No, sir. Hardy's got three months' leave. He's had fever. Janion. Confound him ! what does he want to have fever for, before an earthquake ? {Going to telephone — snatching the receiver from Dickson.) It's ridiculous ! {To the telephone.) Is that you, Burrows ? Look here, we've got to have a special correspondent before twelve o'clock to-night. Where's Mr. Foote now ? Eh ? Just back from Morocco ? — Good ! — Get his address at once and turn him on to the earthquake. Right — right ! {He replaces the telephone and comes down.) He was in that big earthquake in. Java three years ago — he can do the rest, with geography and imagination. {A servant enters down the steps on the right.) 42 THE EARTH Servant. Mr. Trevena has just arrived, sir. {They all look at Janion.) Janion. Ah ! Ask him to come out here. Mr. Stronge, you'd better go and bring him. (Stronge goes out with the servant.) Dickson. Trevena ! — Trevena ! D'ye think ye'll get anything out of him — about the Wages Bill ? Janion. {Smiling.) We were good friends eighteen years ago — he worked under me on the staff of the Mercury. But a Cabinet Minister doesn't give away Government secrets for auld lang syne, Michael. {He sits.) Dickson. Ye needn't cod me ye ever see any one for nothin'. Janion. {Laughing.) I want to know how the Government are taking our campaign against the Wages Bill. With a little judicious pumping, I'll get that much out of him. MORRISH. D'you think we can frighten them into dropping the Bill, now ? I don't — though there have been rumours. Dickson. {Grinning.) Aye — I put up three of them birds me- self. Of course, if they go on with the Bill, we can climb down. THE EARTH 43 Janion. Climb down ! Dickson. Discreetly. Janion. There's no climbing down this time. {Decisively.) Make up your minds to that. Climb down ! when every day, for the past month, we've staked our reputa- tion that his Bill would never see the first reading? I tell you, this Bill's got to be smashed (strikes the table with his fist), and if any one can doit, we can. (Rises.) Take Morrish round the grounds, Michael. You've not been here before, Morrish ? (Dickson moves up to the steps on the left and lights a cigar.) Morrish. (Rising.) No — my first visit. Janion. Are you keen on sculpture ? Morrish. Very. Janion. There are some fine copies of Canova in the Italian garden. Morrish. Oh, Canova ! (He goes to the steps.) 44 THE EARTH Janion. My favourite sculptor. Dickson. {At the head of the steps.) Aye, man — they're grand. Canova was a self-made man, too. Began life as a waiter — made his first statues out of butter. A man like that's bound to get on. {They go out.) Janion. {Calling after them.) You'll stay for lunch, of course. Dickson. Thank ye — thank ye. {They disappear. Stronge appears at the head of the steps on the right with the Right Hon. Denzil Trevena, M.P. The latter is a tall and very handsome man, about ten years younger than Janion. His finely chiselled, intellectual face is that of an idealist — something of a dreamer ; but the firm set of his mouth betokens strength of purpose, and his deep set eyes are steady and sane. A man of winning personality!) Janion. Delighted to see you, Trevena, delighted. How have you been ? {Shaking hands warmly.) Trevena. I've been too busy to be anything but well, thanks. Janion. Ah ! we're all that. Still, it was splendid of you to come — splendid. THE EARTH 45 Trevena. I don't quite know why I came, unless to let you see I'm not afraid to face your music, Janion. Janion. Music — ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! — well don't let's indulge in discords till after lunch. {To Stronge.) Shan't want you till later, Mr. Stronge. (Stronge goes out.) Trevena. {Looking ro und.) What a lovely place you have here ! — I'd no idea. Janion. Isn't it ? Trevena. Beautiful. Janion. We've not been in it long. But, by Gad ! I've grown into it so, I feel we've been here since the Conquest. Trevena. Doesn't all this make you regret you're a bachelor? Janion. Perhaps — yes. But I'm too busy to think of it — my papers — those are my children. Trevena. Enfants terribles ! {Laughing.) 46 THE EARTH Janion. Because they're worrying your Wages Bill, eh ? you think so ? Trevena. A Frankenstein family, Janion ; the morals and manners of terrible children, and the power of giants. Janion. The circulation of my morning papers alone is close on four million a day ; and it's going to be more. I disapprove of your Bill. I'll smash it if I can. Won't you sit down ? {He sits.) Trevena. So I gathered. {Sitting.) Well, you're entitled to your opinion. I disapprove of your methods. Janion. For instance Trevena. You condemn the Bill before the details are made public. That's un-English. You print letters that are full of misstatements, and endorse _^them, with or with- out inquiry, as facts. You go so far as to state that the Bill has caused a split in the Cabinet. Janion. So it has ! Trevena. {Smiling.) You will probably lose that illusion — if you ever had it. THE EARTH 47 Janion. If it hasn't, it will. I've attacked the Wages Bill because, in my opinion, its enactment would be a national calamity. I stirred up this agitation through- out the country because I meant to force the Govern- ment to abandon the Bill. It's a real agitation, Trevena — I've made it real. If they won't drop the Bill, they risk defeat. You take it from me, I'll leave no stone unturned to smash your Bill. {He looks at his watch. Miss Janion and Lady KiLLONE,/o//oajed by Lord Killone and Lady Susan, appear at the head of the steps on the left.) Trevena. I appreciate your frankness, my dear Janion. Now we understand each other. Janion. Yes — and it's time for lunch. (Janion rises and helps Miss Janion down the steps. Lady Killone comes down the steps.) Miss Janion. FeUx dear, Lord Killone tells me they are unfor- tunately compelled to go back to town immediately after lunch. Janion. That's too bad. (She continues speaking to him. Trevena, who has risen, crosses quickly to Lady Killone and shakes hands.) 48 THE EARTH Trevena. The last person in the world I thought I should meet here. Lady Killone. I heard you were coming this morning. Trevena. . How do you do, Lady Susan ? (Shaking hands with her.) How are you, Killone ? Killone. Oh, just killin' time. Nothin' else to kill in the summer. Janion. (Taking Trevena's arm.) Trevena, let me introduce you to my sister. Trevena. (Shaking hands with her.) How do you do. Miss Janion ? Very kind of your brother to ask me down. Miss Janion. Oh, I know he was most anxious to discuss your Bill. He takes an interest in everything. (They continue their conversation. Lady Susan joins them.) Killone. (Coming to Janion.) Hope you won't think it beastly rude of us, Janion, cuttin' our visit short. But — er — fact is — had a letter from my solicitor Johnny this THE EARTH 49 mornin' — ^wants to see me to-night. We're sellin' our property in Ireland, you know — tryin' to. Janion. Very sorry to lose you, but of course business — business. KiLLONE. We've had a rippin' time — rippin'. Lady Killone. I think, if Sir Felix will allow me to stay, I shall go up later by train. Janion. Delighted. Lady Killone. There's one about six, isn't there ? Janion. Six fifteen — no stop. Killone. Thought you were comin' in the motor. Lady Killone. I've changed my mind. I've been nervy lately, and Skinner doesn't inspire me with confidence. Killone. Rot ! — Skinner's a flyer. But please yourself. [A servant appears at the top of the steps on the t.) 4 50 THE EARTH Servant. Lunch is served, madam. Miss Janion. Thank you, Tupper. Lady Susan. Thank goodness. I am so hungry. (Lady Susan and Miss Janion begin to go up the steps.) Lady Killone. Mr. Trevena ! (Trevena comes down to her, below the table on the left.) Janion. {Taking Killone's arm.) You're ready for lunch, I know. Didn't turn up for breakfast. (They follow the others up the steps.) Lady Killone. {In low, hurried tones.) I must see you alone, Den. Manage it after lunch — I want to speak to you. Trevena. {Anxiously.) Kitty — what is it? Something hap- pened ? Lady Killone. No, no — hush ! {They go towards the steps. Janion turns at the top of the steps.) THE EARTH 51 Janion. You shall have an old-fashioned horse to take you to the station, Lady Killone. Lady Killone. Thanks ; it's a comfort to be able to do something now-a-days without a machine. (They go up the steps and out. As Janion is about to follow the telephone bell rings. He rushes back and picks up the receiver.) Janion. Yes — yes — it's L (Pause.) Well, I don't care a damn — it's advertisement. End of the First Act. THE SECOND ACT THE SECOND ACT Scene : — The Library, Arrowleigk Court. A room in dark oak, surrounded with well-filled bookshelves. On the right a door. At the back two French windows opening on the gardens. On the left a large fireplace with a club fender high enough to sit on. Near it a large desk, covered with papers, &c. ; on it a tele- phone. On the right a large red leather settee. Other chairs, &c. (Trevena is examining the bookshelves on the right. Janion has opened a cabinet on the left contain- ing a number of cigar-boxes.) Janion. Strong or mild cigar, Trevena ? Trevena. Medium, if you have them. I like the middle way in everything. Janion. Ah ! {Takes a fresh box from the top shelf, brings it to the table and opens it with a formidable-looking dagger.) Try one of these " Caballeros." I believe they're in good condition. 56 THE EARTH Trevena. Thanks. (Coming to the desk.) Janion. I like a mild cigar myself. (Helps himself from another box. Trevena takes a cigar-cutter^ cuts his cigar, strikes a match, lights Janion's and then his own cigar.) Janion. (Holding out the dagger.) Like my paper-knife ? Trevena. (Taking it.) It hardly suggests cutting books. Janion. No. It's a reformed character. That's the knife Curley killed those three old maids with at Colchester — you remember the case. Trevena. Horrible ! (Lays the knife on the desk with a suggestion of disgust.) Hum! (Goes over to the settee.) Janion. (Sitting at his desk.) Come now, Trevena. You accuse me of treating your Bill unfairly. Trevena. I do. (Sits.) Janion. I resent that accusation. As the mouthpiece of public opinion, I pride myself on my impartiality. It THE EARTH 57 is our invariable custom to give both sides of every question. Trevena. {Smiling.) Yes, I rarely take up one of your papers without finding that benevolent catchword in con- spicuous type. Janion. Very well, then ! I shall be delighted to hear your side. Trevena. My dear Janion, I really mustn't defend the Wages Bill in your Press before I introduce the measure in the House. Even " intelligent anticipation " has its limits. Janion. No, no, no ; of course I don't suggest anything so absurd. You complain of unfair treatment — I want to know in what way. Trevena. You condemn day after day, in your columns, a measure the details of which you don't know. You have already created an enormous amount of prejudice against the Bill before it has had a hearing — unfair is scarcely the word. Janion. I took the Bill as outlined in the debate on the Address. {He refers to a paper on Ms desk.) It proposes to create a Wages Board — dealing with wages and 58 THE EARTH nothing else— primarily a board of conciliation : with power to inquire into all trade disputes. If conciliation cannot be effected, the cases to be referred to a court of arbitration, whose decisions shall have the force of law. Also with powers to inquire into the conditions of home work, &c. Trevena. Don't throw away that last clause. I remarked you never referred to that in your papers. That clause will put an end to the sweating of women and children. You could hardly expect to get up an agitation against that part of the Bill. Janion. I haven't a word to say against that. I sympathise with it — sympathise with it heartily. It's the principle underlying the whole measure . . . this Bill attacks one of the greatest principles of English politics — Government non-interference. You destroy free com- petition between Trade Unions and employers. Trevena. We don't destroy — we regulate. The struggle be- tween capital and labour, at present, is a muddle. It's war, with its strikes, its lock-outs, its appalling waste. It is z. fight where the long purse wins. For that muddle we offer you State arbitration. Janion. Yes ; meddle instead of muddle. Trevena. Law instead of anarchy, Janion. We're only moving THE EARTH 59 with the times. It's a Bill to protect minorities-— minorities of men and money Janion. Pamper the idle and thriftless at the expense of workers who have wealth. Trevena. (Laughing.) You rich men amuse me. The com- placent way in which you assume that you have all the virtues, and that because a man, or a corporation of men, isn't strong enough to stand up to you, they are therefore idle and thriftless ! My dear Janion, can't you see that legislation of this kind is bound to come ? No State can continue to tolerate the existence of great uncontrolled powers within itself. Janion. That sounds almost like a threat — from Hyde Park. Trevena. It is a threat — but happens to come from West- minster. It's merely history repeating itself. It's the destruction of feudalism — moneyed feudalism. Instead of the king curbing the power of the barons, you have the sovereign Parliament preparing to clip the wings of the big corporations, the big trusts, the big million- aires, the big Trade Unions. Janion. {After a slight pause.) I do you the credit of believing that you conceive your Bill as a sincere attempt at social reform. But mark my word, Trevena: if that Bill 60 THE EARTH becomes law, you destroy the power of industrial ex- pansion in this country. Trevena. {Earnestly.) I don't believe it. I don't believe it. But this it will do. It will limit the power of personal expansion. Janion. It's socialism — rank socialism. Trevena. (Smiling.) Make a serious attempt at social reform, and at once you shriek " Socialism." I was waiting for that. Janion. You've had it already. I wrote in a leading article last week that you were tinged with socialism. I was wrong. You're steeped in it, Trevena, drunk with it. I don't know how you've succeeded in imposing this measure on a Cabinet of presumably sane men. I know some of them object to it. I know that, Trevena — I know it. {He pauses.) Trevena. (Smiling.) If you know it, you need no confirmation. Janion. I can only put it down to your personal magnetism, popularity in the country, and — shall we say ? — a talent for diabolically ingenious diplomacy. (A pause.) THE EARTH 61 Trevena. You're an uncompromising individualist, Janion. Janion. I am. I've no use for sentiment in politics. Trevena. Quite so. The State for you is merely a machine for the protection of private property. Janion. After the protection of life and liberty, that is the most important function of the State. (Trevena rises, goes to desk, knocks ash from cigar, and then returns to settee.) Trevena. Well, I suppose you consider me a sentimentalist. For I have a different theory of government. For me, the function of the State is to counterpoise egoism. Janion. Humph ! That's your theory, is it ? Trevena. Mine ! It's as old as the social instinct in man — it's the basis of it. But it's been lost sight of — utterly — under modern conditions. The theory that the State exists for the protection of private property has been pushed to an iniquitous extreme. The more a man has, the more protection he gets. That's fundamentally wrong, Janion. The more a man has, the less pro- tection he needs. 62 THE EARTH Janion. I see : you're one of those lunatics who want to do away with the struggle for existence. Trevena. No ; I want to see it made possible for all. I want to see a levelling up, and a levelling down. Have you ever asked yourself why the vitality of nations always lies in the middle classes ? Because they alone are neither vitiated by too much nor brutalised by too little. Look at our slums : what kind of humanity will go out into the future from those social cesspools ? And the bulk of our wealthy classes — what are they giving us ? A legacy of childless women and brainless men. Don't think I'm a preacher of "The Sins of Society " type. I don't blame them — I blame the false social standards which make idle independence for ourselves and our children the goal of our ambition. You call me a socialist. I am an individualist — a better individualist than you. I want to see every one have a chance, and no one have a chance without working for it. Janion. Hyde Park bunkum, Trevena. Do you mean to tell me that there can be any progress under a system that prevents a man using his own powers to their fullest extent for his own advancement ? Trevena. You drive a motor, Janion ? (Janion nods.) How fast do you go ? THE EARTH 63 Janion. {Smiling.) The legal speed limit, twenty miles an hour. Trevena. {Laughing.) We all know that. But when you're in a hurry, with a clear road and no police traps about, you go thirty — forty — miles an hour? Janion. I do. Trevena. Of course you do. So do I. We know that a careful driver can go thirty — forty, without risk. But the State refuses to permit me to use my own powers to their fullest extent for my own advancement along the road. And the State is right. Janion. Certainly. Trevena. And when the State says to the great capitalist : " I refuse to permit you to use your own powers to their fullest extent for your own commercial advancement," the State will be right again. The road of commerce belongs to all — we all have rights on that road — we have the right to control the financial road-hog. Believe me, Janion, a legal speed limit in money-making is a question of practical politics, and my Bill is the first decisive step in that direction. Janion. Analogy isn't logic. You twist your arguments 6i THE EARTH cleverly. But a little while ago, you were all for the protection of minorities. The poor motorist should come in for State protection under that head. Trevena. And doesn't he ? My dear fellow, if the State didn't protect motorists there are half a dozen friends of mine who would be lynched at sight in certain districts — and I don't know that it wouldn't serve them right. You can't get out of it that way. Janion. I don't want to get out of it. To a certain extent, I am with you — to a certain extent. The State must have some control of the great financial Trusts. It's inevitable — I have always foreseen it. I am against the Trusts in principle; I've always been an enemy . . . Trevena. You pose as the enemy of Trusts, Janion ! Why, what are you but a Trust ? Janion. Pshaw ! Trevena. You're the worst kind of Trust. You're a Trust of ideas. You — The Earth, The Searchlight, The Eagle, with their fabulous circulations, and the whole pack of other papers that's barking at your heels — what chance has an independent purveyor of public opinion of standing up against _j'om ? THE BAKTH 65 Janion. My circulation is the proof that I represent public opinion. Trevena. Do you ? I wonder ! In the old days before you " Janionised " our Press, it recognised moral and educational responsibilities, it had dignity, restraint . . . Janion. And dullness, Trevena ; I've done away with that. Trevena. (Smiling.) No, you are never dull — neither is the public-house. They say we are becoming an hysterical nation. I wonder how much of the blame can be laid at your door. Janion. You've missed your vocation, Trevena ; you should have been a parson. I am a merchant, and they come to my shop in millions — because I give them what they want. Trevena. Missing words, limericks, and the whole trust bag of catchpenny tricks. (Rises, comes to the desk.) Yes, you have cornered the voice of public opinion, and now you are in a position to call the tune. But I warn you, Janion ; you — you are one of the great uncontrolled powers that the State will have to reckon with. 5 66 THE EARTH Janion. You warn me ! Why, man, the Government that dared to raise a finger against the freedom of the Press would be hounded out of office in six months. Trevena. The freedom of the Press is the freedom of public opinion — that's the beginning and the end of it. Can you pretend that public opinion is free, when more than half the leading journals are the voice of one man ? There is a danger to the freedom of the Press, Janion, and that danger is you. You are simply a Trust, crushing out or buying up all opposition, till you control the market — till you can sit in your office and say, " What I think to-day, England will think to-morrow." Janion. That to-morrow will be a bad day for you, Trevena ; for I think to-day that you and the whole breed of tender-hearted sentimentalising statesmen like you are a national danger, and I'd smash you if I got the chance. You may hope, for the sake of your Bill, that you exaggerate my power. Have another cigar ? Trevena. No, thanks. {The door on the right opens and Stronge appears.) Make your mind easy about my Bill. You won't succeed in smashing that. (Janion looks at him quickly) Janion. {After a moment's pause.) Ah ! THE EARTH 67 Stronge, You said I was to let you know, sir, when Mr. Dick- son and Mr. Morrish were going. Janion. (Rising.) Yes, yes — I want to see Diclison before he goes. (Going to the door.) Forgive my running away, Trevena. 1 shan't be very long. Trevena. Oh, I shall be all right. (Stronge and Janion go out. Trevena then goes to the window, where he stands looking out. A moment] later his attention is attracted from out- side.) Kitty ! (He makes a movement as if to go out. Then stops and nods his head, evidently in response to a sign from someone outside. He turns and comes back into the room. A little later Lady KiLLONE appears at the window and comes quickly into the room.) Lady Killone. Where is he ? Trevena. Gone to see those newspaper people of his. (Taking her hands.) I haven't seen you for a fortnight, and it seems months. Lady Killone. Months and months, but oh ! I'd have come, if I could. (He takes her in his arms and kisses her.) Den, dear, I've bad news. 68 THE EARTH Trevena. Kitty ! My God !— not Lady Killone. No, no — it isn't that. It's news from Ireland. George had a letter this morning. {Moves to settee, followed by Trevena.) There's no chance of making any money out of the sale of the property. It seems we're practically stony broke. I had no idea things had gone so far. {Sitting.) Trevena. Kitty ! Lady Killone. Oh, I shouldn't mind being a pauper, if only I could be near you. But he says it means living in Ireland, " Killone Park twelve months in the bally year," as he puts it. (Trevena sits on the arm of the settee.) I couldn't bear it, Den — I couldn't bear it. Trevena. If it's only money — Good Heavens! I can let you have money. Lady Killone. Yes, dear ; if you had five shillings, you'd offer me four — five, if I wanted it, wouldn't you. Den ? No, dear ; that's no good. I know you can only make ends meet as it is ; and anyway, I couldn't take money from you. Our love has enough on its conscience. Trevena. {Sitting on the settee beside her.) Kitty, everything THE EARTH 69 I have — everything I am, is yours. You must let me help you — I can't live without you. To think of you buried in Ireland ! You're more than anything to me — more to me, even, than my work. I couldn't go on with it, if I lost you. Lady Killone. (Laying her hand on his arm.) I'm glad — glad if that's true, Den. It seems — it's like a justification of it all. Oh, it needs none to us — but to others. But say no more about money, dear — that's out of the question. Trevena. How on earth has Killone managed to get into such low water ? Lady Killone. (With a little shrug.) He's been mortgaging the property for years. And the money's mostly gone in the pursuit of his profession. Trevena. His profession ? Lady Killone. {Slowly nodding her head.) Finding winners. The gratification of his artistic tastes has also run into a pretty good figure. You didn't credit him with artistic tastes, did you ? Trevena. I did not. 70 THE EARTH Lady Killone. One of them has the imost beautiful eyes, and the other . . . {She laughs rather bitterly, then breaks off suddenly.) Poor women ! — I suppose they will presently be confronted by the same domestic dilemma that troubles me. Think of it ! The three dependants of George Derrick, third Earl of Killone, all sitting wondering where the next sovereign is going to come from. (Laughing almost hysterically.) Really, it's comic — isn't it. Den ? Trevena. Hush! Kitty, Kitty, you'll make yourself hysterical. {Rises and goes to the desk.) What's to be done ? — think ! You must stay on in London. Lady Killone. I suppose I shall manage somehow. I've got eight hundred of my own — not this year though. Why can't I make money? Susan Sturrage does . . . society scavenging for the papers . . . rag and bone picker to the Upper Ten. You can always make money, if you are not too nice about the means. Why, I might write a society novel — can't you see it, Den ? . . . a string of palpitating chapters in a purple cover — Ugh I It's a hideous world. Trevena. Can't I make it less hideous for you, Kitty ? {Coming to her.) Lady Killone. You — you've made a new world for me. I can't THE EARTH 71 think, now, how I lived through those years without you. Marriage — almost before I could realise . . I remember best, a wild rush trying on frocks, and mother saying how splendid it was. He was in love then . . . desperately . . . and my head was turned. In six months . . . less, I knew . . . life began to look different . . . full of ugly things . . . that came through with the years . . . horrible . . . crushing me . . . crushing even my horror of them, till I was numbed . . . dead. And then you . . . just like waking up . . . like spring, and everything seemed good and green again. Trevena. (After a pause) Kitty, let me motor you back to town. We'll go to St. Alban's Mansions and talk things over. I'll wire old Mrs. Meadows to have dinner for us. Lady Killone. No, Den. I mustn't go back with you. I told my husband I was too nervy to motor back with him — my excuse to stay with you, dear. Sir Felix heard me. There's no good running risks. Trevena. No, no — of course. {Goes to the desk and then turns.) But when can you come to the flat, Kitty? Not to- morrow, and — Wednesday I have to speak at Man- chester — ^but Tuesday — can you come Tuesday ? Lady Killone. Yes, Den. 72 THE EARTH Trevena. I'll get there by eight, and we can dine there, and have a long, long evening to ourselves. Lady Killone. I shan't fail. My heart will beat Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday, till it's time to go. I wouldn't miss one minute of our little stolen hours together for anything else in the world. Trevena. Stolen ! Yes, that's the curse of it. {Going up to the window.) Every time I want to see you I must steal — stoop to petty deceptions — I am a thief. Though I believe with all my heart and soul our love is right and good, always behind is the feeling of guilt — I can't get away from it. You feel that, Kitty, don't you ? Lady Killone. A little — perhaps. When a woman's in love, there's no room for trouble about other things. And what does it matter. Den ? — it's the price we pay for our happiness. Trevena. No, it's the tribute we pay for keeping up appear- ances ; and many a time I ask myself, is it worth it ? I would like to make an end of all the lies and hypocrisy, and let them think what they liked of the truth. If you are taken away to Ireland, do you know what will happen ? [Comes to her.) I shall arrive one THE EARTH 73 morning and say, " Kitty, come away with me ; let's throw up everything and make a bolt." Lady Killone. And then ? Teevena. Oh, we'd go abroad . . . and afterwards, we should be married. Lady Killone. And after — ^what would you do with your life ? Trevena. We should have to live abroad for some years. But scandals are soon forgotten. I could come back then Lady Killone. Alone, yes — a man can come back alone. But not with a woman round his neck. Better many mill- stones than a woman with a history. Trevena. I'd give it all up, rather than lose you, Kitty. Lady Killone. I love you for saying it, dear, but I wouldn't let you. Love makes men foolish and wonien wise. I know quite well that if I let you give up your career for me — in the end I should lose your love, Den. Trevena. How can you say that ? — don't you trust me ? 74 THE EARTH Lady Killone. I love you. But just think, Den — just think what our Hves would be. For a time — years perhaps — the world would be a wonderful place. And then — slowly, slowly, month by month, the wonder would die — I should watch you, and see you beginning to feel the want — the something missing. (He makes a movement of protest.) Oh no, you'd never say it, but I should know. I should feel the want myself. Dear, half my love is pride — pride in the great work you are doing, ambition for all that you can still do. Do you think / could give up that ? Trevena. I shouldn't give up all my work — I should write Lady Killone. That's not life. You're a fighter, a doer ; you must be right in the front of actual things. Den, Den, think of us two, wandering abroad from place to place — out of the real world — drifting ghosts, waifs, looking on at life through the windows ; useless, aimless, growing old, and bored, and tired — tired, not with work, with purposeless existence. Oh ! we couldn't — we couldn't ! Anything but that ! Trevena. No, you're right, Kitty ; you always are right. Lady Killone. Yes, dear, I am not one of those women who think the world well lost for love. And if I find you thinking it, I shall just whisper — "Temporary insanity." THE EARTH 75 Trevena. If you want to keep me sane, Kitty, let's have no more about living in Ireland. You see how much I need you. {He bends over and kisses her forehead. Janion appears outside the French window on the right. He puts his hand to it as though to push it open, then stops, stares at them for an instant, and quickly retreats.) Lady Killone. {Rising.) Don't be afraid; Ireland won't see much of me, though I love it. I'm an absentee patriot. Trevena. {Looking at his watch.) Good Heavens ! I'd no idea it was so late. Where's Janion, I wonder ! (Janion's voice heard outside.) Lady Killone. Talk of the devil ! Trevena. {Laughing.) The printer's devil — but you never see the end of his tale. {He goes to the desk. Enter Lady Susan, Janion, and Miss Janion by the left window.) Janion. {As he comes in.) Yes, yes, I've set myself to reform our English Sunday. Church in the morning, of course— but after that, anything they like. We're a 76 THE EARTH conservative nation, but I'm educating 'em out of it — slowly. (Lady Susan goes to chair at the desk, J anion remains standing, Miss Janion sits on the settee.) Janion. {Shaking his finger playfully.) Ah, Lady Killone, buttonholing our Cabinet Minister, I see ! Lady Killone. I didn't succeed in getting anything out of him. Did you ? Janion, If you failed, how should I succeed? As long as Ministers are men, the petticoat will have more power than the Press. Lady Susan. There'll be no standing us when we have votes as well as petticoats. {Sitting at the desk.) Trevena. Sir Felix is growing pessimistic about the power of the Press. He's been trying to frighten me into abandoning the Wages Bill. Miss Janion. To frighten you ! (Stronge enters, leaving the door open, and goes to Trevena.) Oh, Mr. Trevena, surely not! Janion. Yes, and he threatens to put an end to me. So it is I who am frightened now. THE EARTH 77 Stronge. (To Trevena.) Your car is at the door. Trevena. Oh, thanks. (To Janion.) You may claim a technical victory, Janion — I have to run away. Good - bye, Miss Janion. (Shaking hands.) It's been a delightful afternoon. Miss Janion. I hope you'll come again. Trevena. (Coming to settee.) How very kind of you. (Shaking hands with Lady Killone.) Good-bye. Lady Killone. I shall be in the House on Monday night. Trevena. Then I shall be sure of one sympathiser. Janion. It won't count in the division, Trevena. Trevena. It will count in other ways. (Crossing to the desk, he shakes hands with Lady Susan.) Good-bye. No, no, Janion, don't bother to come out with me. Think over what I said. Janion. Don't be afraid. I've begun that already. (Shakes hands with him.) Good-bye. 78 THE EARTH Trevena. Good-bye. {He goes out. Stronge is following.) Janion. Stronge, if Mr. Dickson hasn't gone yet, I want to see him. Stronge. Yes, Sir Felix. (He goes out, closing the door. Janion remains staring at the door.) Miss Janion. Mr. Trevena has a good face. I think he must be a good man. Lady Susan. I wonder ! Do you know, Lady Killone ? Lady Killone. I — I feel sure Miss Janion's instinct must be right. Miss Janion. {To Lady Killone.) Felix and he were fellow journalists years ago, and great friends. And my brother has never forgotten him. Indeed, I may say it was my brother who made him. (Janion comes down to them.) Janion. I'm afraid my sister exaggerates, Lady Killone. Miss Janion. Felix ! THE EARTH 79 Janion. Of course, in a sense, I can say he owes his present position to me. . Lady Killone. Really ! I never knew that. Janion. Four years ago I canvassed the readers of The Earth. We offered a prize for the best forecast of the coming Cabinet. Trevena got more votes than any one. Well, I agreed with my readers. I pushed him, I paragraphed him. I gave him leaders to himself. Three weeks later the Cabinet was formed — and Trevena had got there. Lady Killone. {Laughing.) Like a patent pill, swept to success on a flood of advertisement. Lady Susan. Nowadays the man who isn't advertised is lost. Janion. Oh, much worse — he's never even found. Lady Susan. Is it true, Sir Felix, that you own a hundred papers ? Janion. No — only eighty. Lady Susan. {Laughing.) Only ! 80 THE EARTH Janion. Sixty, perhaps, don't count much. But the rest — well, it's a pretty effective handle on the national thinking apparatus. If I take up an idea I can stick it like a nail into some millions of heads, and hammer it home every day, as long as I like, Lady Killone. Sort of wholesale Jael, in fact. (Laughing.) How very unpleasant! I wonder if it's good for the national thinking apparatus. Janion. Of course it is. We want ideas in England — want them badly. Lady Killone. {Rising.) I think I should like to see if my maid has packed. Miss Janion. {Rising.) Let me see to it. Lady Killone. No, no, thanks. (To Janion.) Six fifteen my train goes? Janion. Six fifteen. {Opening the door.) Lady Killone. {To Miss Janion) Brisbourne's rather a trial. I fancy it must be this thirst for ideas — she wastes THE EARTH 81 all her time reading the papers. (To Janion, with a laugh.) Why, it may be one of your papers. Janion. It probably is. (Lady Killone and Miss Janion go out. Janion closes the door and stands smiling to himself for some moments, then comes down.) Quite a pleasant surprise for Lady Killone — meeting Trevena down here. Lady Susan. Very. (A pause.) Janion. Interesting, such a close political friendship between a man and a woman — most interesting. Lady Susan. H'm ! Is the closeness merely political, do you think ? Janion. Why — you don't mean to suggest Lady Susan. Oh no — n-no Janion. No, of course. Lady Susan. But people have suggested {She pauses.) Janion. Have they ? That's too bad— too bad ! That's really 6 82 THE EARTH too bad of them. {Coming to the desk.) What have they suggested ? Lady Susan. 1 was thinking of Mrs. Lightwood's story. She was motoring in Norfolk last month. They stopped to breakfast at a little inn at . . . Lynnthorpe, I think. There was a motor waiting there, and, as they drove up, who should come out but Mr. Trevena and — a lady. The lady wore a '' safety " veil, but Mrs. Light- wood swears it was Kitty Killone. Janion. Mrs. Lightwood — pooh ! A woman with a motor and a nasty mind is sure to see things. Lady Susan. (Smiling.) Perhaps. Still, there's no doubt that motor cars are making a lot of difference to the ten command- ments. Janion. I don't believe a word of it. Do you, now ? You've never noticed anything yourself. Lady Susan. Um — no, nothing really. A look — a chance expres- sion on her face, when I've seen them together, of — well, call it honeymoonishness. Janion. (Laughing.) All your romantic imagination. Depend on it, there's not a word to be said against Trevena — or Lady Killone. THE EARTH 83 Lady Susan. Oh, I admit she's discretion itself. Discretion is the better part of virtue — so we must be charitable. (Michael Dickson appears at the door. Lady Susan rises) There now, you've got to talk business, and though I know you'd much rather talk scandal, I won't let you. {Going to the door.) Oh, Mr. Dickson — they forgot my little cheque last week . . . Dickson. D'you tell me that, now ? Leave it to me. (Janion laughs. Lady Susan goes out, Dickson holding the door open and closing it after her. Janion takes up the telephone and sits at desk.) Janion. (To the telephone.) Is that the office? I want Mr. Burrows — yes. Dickson. Ye want me, Sir Felix? Janion. Yes, Michael. Shut that window. (Dickson does so with exaggerated precautions against noise, then comes down. Janion speaking to the telephone.) Is that Burrows ? I want the first three columns of page five kept open for to-morrow. . . . Eh ? Never mind that. I'm going to make the agitation against the Wages Bill the feature of the paper every day this week. Send for Mr. Murphy. I want an article for the leader page. Tell him to ring me up, I'll give him the points. I'll write to-morrow's leader myself ... yes, yes, you shall have it in time. Pick out half 84 THE EARTH a dozen of the strongest letters you've got against the Wages Bill. (Pause.) You've nothing very strong — I see ; then get Murphy to write you two or three scorchers. Mr. Morrish will be up in a couple of hours. Right. (Replaces receiver.) Dickson. (Coming to the settee.) Still hammering at the Wages Bill? Janion. Yes. But I don't want you for that. Sit down. (Dickson sits on the settee.) Michael, have you ever heard Trevena's name connected with that of a woman ? Any gossip — any scandal ? — you know what I mean. Dickson. (Shaking his head, after a pause.) No. Janion. With Lady Killone's, for instance? Dickson. (With awakened interest.) Oh ! {Then shaking his head) I have not ; but I'm no society man, as you know. If it's society gossip ye want, you just ask Lady Susan. That woman can smell a scandal quicker than a terrier can smell a rat. Janion. I won't ask Lady Susan. I never use a woman, if I can do without her. And in this case it isn't a terrier I want, Michael, it's a ferret. I'm on the scent already. THE EARTH 85 Dickson. D'ye tell me that, now ! Man dear, if there's a woman in the case, ut's like an onion in the salad — ye can't get away from it. Janion. Michael, certain things have just come to my know- ledge, my own observation partly — well, the truth is I've got an idea that relations between Trevena and Lady Killone are — um Dickson. They've been carryin' on ! Janion. That is the idea. I want to find out if it is correct. I want you to take this business in hand — at once. I want you to have them watched. (Dickson gives a low whistle.) You must work discreetly, mind. Neither you nor I must appear in the matter. Dickson. I know, I know. Trust me to go one better than Sherlock Holmes. Janion. And remember, Michael, I don't want gossip — I don't want suspicions. I want facts — facts. If you find there's anything in this — I want evidence — reliable, damning evidence. Evidence such that, if it were placed in Lord Killone's hands to-morrow, it would enable him to institute immediate proceedings for divorce. {He looks at his watch.) You've just twenty 86 THE EARTH minutes to catch the five train. You get to work on this to-night. Dickson. {Rising.) I've done a few things for ye ; but this bangs Banagher. I suppose ye want the results . . . {Coming to the desk.) Janion. Within a week, if they're to be had. Dickson. If there's anything in ut. Janion. If there isn't — there isn't. Money doesn't matter — spend what you hke. No bribery, of course — only the truth's any good to us. Dickson. {Going to the door.) That's right, that's right. If ye get what ye want, ut's worth payin' for. {Turning) And now — in confidence — what do you want it for ? Janion. {A pause.) Never you mind. (Dickson hurries out.) End of tiIe Second Act. THE THIRD ACT THE THIRD ACT. Scene. — Trevena's Study, Queen Anne's Gate, West- minster. Thursday night. The scene shows five walls of an octagonal room decorated in the style of Adam.. The wall nearest the audience on the left contains a fireplace. That beyond it, a door leading to the drawing-room. In the wall facing the audience are double mahogany doors leading to the landing. The wall nearest the audience on the right is covered with bookcases, that beyond it is occupied by a wide window. At right angles to the bookcases is a desk, with a seat facing the audience. In front of the fireplace is a Chesterfield settee. Several well-filled Chippendale bookcases against the walls. A few Chippendale chairs and two or three lounge chairs covered in chintz. There are no pictures on the walls, but a number of small, handsome bronzes in different parts of the room. In the corner between the doors is a table on which a number of newspapers and periodicals are arranged. (James Bent, a preternaturally grave young man, with a pale, thin face, and rather lank, dark hair, is seated on the back of the settee, with his back to the fire, reading an evening paper. 90 THE EARTH He is in evening dress and dinner jacket. After a few moments Trevena enters from the centre. He is in evening dress. Bent throws away the paper.) Trevena. (Coming down to the desk.) Well, Bent, an ocean of work, I suppose ? Bent. {Going to the side of the desk.) Not quite that. (Trevena sits.) There are a few matters may require your attention. You'll take the correspondence first ? Trevena. Yes, yes. By the way, there are a lot of letters in my bag that were forwarded to Manchester. See to them. Bent. (Handing him a bundle of letters.) I've answered all these — nothing important. (Trevena glances at a few of the top ones, then throws bundle into wastepaper basket.) Trevena . Good. (Bent takes up a small bundle of letters.) Bent. These, I thought you'd better see. (Hands Trevena the first one.) Trevena. (Looking at sheet.) Humph ! (A pause.) Oh, I can't answer that to-night. (Handing him back the letter.) THE EARTH 91 Remind me to make inquiries. (Bent hands him the second letter. A pause, during which he reads the letter.) " Tooting Wanderers, Tooting, South-West.— We suggest that you might like to subscribe to the Tooting Wanderers' Cricket Club, remembering your speech made at the opening of the Tooting Free Library, and the interest you have always taken in Toot " {Throwing down the letter.) I don't take the faintest interest in Tooting. Bent. There's a by-election probable in the autumn. Trevena. So there is. {With a sigh.) Oh well, send them the usual. Do any more of these want subscriptions ? Bent. All except one, I'm afraid. Trevena. I'll take that one. The beggars can wait till to- morrow. (Bent selects one of the letters from the bundle, hands it to Trevena, and puts the others on the desk.) This universal belief in the benevolence of members of Parliament is touching, Bent — painfully touching {Looking at letter.) "The Vicarage, Sudley, Bucks." A clergyman — what a hand ! I'm too tired for hiero- glyphics. {Throwing the letter to Bent.) What does he say? {He leans back in his chair.) Bent. {Reading.) " My dear Sir, although, possibly, my name may be unknown to you " 92 THE EARTH Trevena. What is his name ? Bent. (Looking over the page.) Cyril Pertwee. Trevena. We live and learn. Bent. " I think I may, not unfairly, claim to represent the average citizen ; had I not been a dweller in the country, I should have written ' the man in the street.' It is as such I make bold to address you. Are you aware, sir, that your Wages Bill is already condemned by the bulk of the British Press ; that the voice of public opinion " — underlined Trevena. Tell the reverend gentleman the voice is the voice of Janion. " Bulk of the Press" — "voice of public opinion" — what confounded nonsense ! I haven't seen to-day's papers ; I suppose it's the same old game ? Bent. (Nodding.) The whole Janion Press. Trevena. Ha ! Let me see The Earth. (Bent takes a paper, from the table at the back and brings it to him. Trevena opens it.) Three columns — and a leader ! I suppose the others are the same ? THE EARTH 93 Bent. More or less. Trevena. We're fighting the most skilfully organised engine of misrepresentation in the world. Pretty big odds — eh ? (A man-servant enters, and comes down to the desk.) Parker. If you please, sir, a lady has just driven up in a taxi- cab . . . {He hesitates.) Trevena. {Looking at him puzzled.) A lady ! Parker. Er — she wouldn't give her name, sir. She asked if you were alone — I said you were, sir, and she told me to ask if you would be good enough to come and see her. Bent. Shall I go? Trevena. No, no, I'll come. {He rises quickly and goes out, followed by the ser- vant. The door is left open. Bent picks up some papers from the desk, glances through them, then goes to table at the back. A moment later Trevena returns with Lady Killone. She is in evening dress and cloak. She goes to the window.) 94 THE EARTH Trevena. (Closing the door.) Oh, Bent, I shall want you to hear me my speech later on. I'm still shaky in it. (Bent goes into the drawing-room.) Lady Killone. (Turning.) I suppose you think me quite mad ? Trevena. For coming here ? {She comes towards him, smiling and nodding her head.) Quite — delightfully mad. Why did you come ? Lady Killone. The reason's very serious, Den. Trevena. (Taking her hands.) What ? Lady Killone. I haven't seen you — for forty-eight hours. Trevena. (Laughing.) Kitty, you're incorrigible. (He kisses her.) Lady Killone. Don't you remember, I said the night before last, when I was leaving the flat, that if it had to be another three weeks before we met again I'd do something foolish ? Well, here I am. I've done it. Trevena. But it isn't three weeks. THE EARTH 95 Lady Killone. No, I took care of that. Don't scold me, Den : I've been very wise in my folly. I sent away my brougham, popped into a taxi, carefully pumped your man — by the way, was that gloomy young anchorite your secretary ? Trevena. Yes. Oh, Bent's quite safe. Lady Killone. That's fortunate. He didn't look at me ; but his back was eloquent of disapproval. Trevena. He may have guessed the risk you're running. {Taking her cloak, which he throws over a chair.) Lady Killone. Risk ! It's true — I feel absolutely reckless to-night. I was so bored — it drove me to drink. Three glasses of champagne. Den. {Going to the fireplace.) Trevena. Kitty ! Lady Killone. Only three — I think. I've been dining with Sir Julius and Lady Grunebaum. Such a dinner — gor- geousness and gorging. {Throws herself on to the settee.) Sir J. at one end of the table, and his pound of flesh, blazing with diamonds, at the other. 96 THE EARTH Trevena. {Laughing.) Yes, Sir Julius and his tribe haven't left much in the bowels of South Africa. Lady Killone. My arithmetic wasn't equal to the courses. And at least three of them served on gold. I did so want to say to the servant, " Please, I can't eat any more, but may I keep the plate ? " Trevena. You might have asked Sir Julius ; he's generous enough when people are looking on. Lady Killone. Pouf ! I haven't got the smell of money out of my nostrils yet. Trevena. Well, dear, if you will dine with people who are merely disgustingly rich Lady Killone. Oh, I know — money is no recommendation ; but it's a very handsome apology. Trevena. And they need it. (Laughing.) Lady Killone. If I'd only had someone to laugh with ; but I sat beside " Tubby " Wilkinson, who's just had an operation for appendicitis ; he talked about it till I really thought THE EARTH 97 I felt a pain in my side. Give me a cigarette, dear ; I need soothing. (He gives her a cigarette.) Trevena. (Lighting her cigarette.) Who were the women there ? Lady Killone. The cream of the aristocracy of finance, mostly — except JuUa Cardew. Trevena. She there ? Lady Killone. Yes. What a contrast ! — that dear, placid, bovine beauty, who has asked no questions of life, but done her duty Trevena. Eh! Lady Killone. Three boys and a girl. (Trevena laughs.) Oh, don't laugh, Den ; I envy her, I envy her. She has a home that is — home. (Trevena lights his own cigarette.) Trevena. (Gravely.) Yes. (After a pause.) Our home is in the air, Kitty. Lady Killone. In the air ? (With a little bitter laugh.) A castle in the air. (She rises and looks round the room.) Do you 7 98 THE EARTH realise, Den, that this is the first time I've ever been in your house ? Trevena. {Coming to her.) Do I ?— Kitty !— Well ? Lady Killone. What a nice room ! {Pause.) You work here ? Trevena. Yes. Lady Killone. I should like this room. {Turning to the fire.) I'm glad you've a fire — our summer wind is painfully east, as usual. {A pause.) Just think, Den, this ought to be my fireside. I ought to be — at home. {He looks at her tenderly and a shadow of pain crosses his face. She gives a little laugh.) I suppose the world would say that too — in another sense. {She throws away her cigarette and stretches hersel comfortably on the settee, with her feet up. Trevena sits on the back of the settee.^ leaning over her.) Trevena. Kitty, Kitty, don't ! When you say things like that, everything we've missed comes over me, till. . . . {Throws his cigarette in the fire ; then, touching her hair gently.) Oh, dear, why didn't I meet you ten years ago? Lady Killone. {Leaning back against him.) That's life, dear. If THE EARTH 99 it won't make the best of us, why, we must make the best of it. Den, we might never have cared for each other — if we had been always together, we mightn't have got on. Who knows — who knows ? Trevena. I know. Lady Killone. Ah, we think so. We're Celts, you and I, Den — you're Cornish, I'm Irish — just two wandering Celts, with our home — in the air, and our love, a dream — a dream that we come to, out of the world, for rest — happiness. We'Jl go on dreaming. Den ; we'll drift in the crowd, and when the crowd brings us together, I shall whisper, " How is my lover ? " and you'll say, " Well, when he is near you." Don't — don't spoil the dream, dear, by thinking of reality that's out of our reach. Trevena. I won't. If only it will last — last. Lady Killone. It will — it will last. It's going on, and on, and on. Trevena. I came across a sentence the other day — I can't get it out of my head : "All infractions of love and duty in our social system are speedily punished. They are punished by Fear." Lady Killone. Fear— I've only one fear— the fear of losing you.- 100 THE EARTH Trevena. Not while I live, Kitty. (He leans over back of settee and kisses her.) Lady Killone. (Rises and kneels on the settee, putting her hands on his shoulders) Den, you're growing morbid. It's absurd. We haven't much of our lives together, and here we are making that miserable by pitying ourselves. When I'm here, Vll make you forget. When I'm not, your work must do it. What were you doing when I came ? (Trevena looks up, then turns and looks across at the desk.) Trevena. {With a short laugh.) I was reading The Earth. Lady Killone. That rag ! Trevena. (Rises, goes to the desk, picks up The Earth.) Rag — ha ! — that rag is on every bush in England — almost. We can't get away from it, Kitty : in Janion we're up against a mighty big proposition, as they say in America. This stuff that he pours forth every day — all these meetings of protest — petitions he's engineered — they've all had their effect. (Comes to the back of the settee.) Anyone who believes all he sees here, must think the country's dead against the Bill. (With a little laugh.) It's made the wobblers in the Cabinet even wobblier than God made them — Carstairs, and Wither- THE EARTH 101 ington, and three or four others. (With a sigh.) Shall we ever get a Government of statesmen ? They're mere politicians, more than half of them — all watching the weathercock. Lady Killone. (Rises.) But it will go through, Den — the Bill will go through ? Trevena. Yes, it will get through. I'll see to that. We haven't quite reached the era of government by news- paper. Lady Killone. {Coming to him.) Den, let me hear your speech. I heard you say you wanted Trevena. You'll hear it Monday, Kitty — it would only bore you . . . Lady Killone. Bore me ? — how dare you say . . . Trevena. Would you really like . . . Lady Killone. I'd love to. (Trevena ^oes to the drawer of the desk and takes out a bundle of MSS. The servant enters by the centre doors) 102 THE EARTH Trevena. What is it, Parker i? (Parker comes down to him.) Parker. Er — Sir Felix Janion, sir. Trevena. Eh? Parker. I said you were engaged, sir. He would like to know at what hour you will be free. He said it was important he should see you to-night, sir. Trevena. Oh, he can't ! (Parker goes towards the door.) Lady Killone. {To Trevena.) Don't you think you ought to see him? (Trevena looks at her, hesitating) Whom we cannot destroy, we conciliate. Let me wait in there. I shall have Mr. Bent to talk to. (Trevena looks at her a moment in silence, then bends his head.) Trevena. {Turning.) Bring Sir Felix here, Parker. (Parker goes out, closing the doors. Trevena goes up to Lady Killone.) You're right — I'd better see him. THE EARTH 103 Lady Killone. I wonder what . . . Trevena. (Shrugging his shoulders.) More bluif, I expect. I'll get rid of him quickly. (He opens the drawing-room door for her. As she is going out, he catches sight of her cloak on the chair.) Kitty ! (He springs forward, snatches it up, and brings it to her.) Think of my reputation. (With a laugh, she takes it and goes out. He closes the door, then crosses to his desk, where he picks up the paper and stands looking at it. Parker shows in Janion, who is in evening dress, wearing a light overcoat open.) How are you, Janion ? (Shaking hands.) Janion. First class, thanks. I suppose you're Trevena. Oh, busy, busy — reading The Earth. (Smiling.) Janion. (Looking at the paper.) Are you ? I'm glad to see that. Trevena. Well — what can I do for you ? Janion. What can you do for me, Trevena ? H'm ! I don't know yet. Trevena. Sit down. Won't you take off your coat ? 104 THE EARTH Janion. No — no, thanks. {He puts his hat on a small table near him and sits in an armchair near the desk. Trevena drops The Earth on the desk, and sits in the desk chair.) You've been reading The Earth, have you ? Well, what do you think of it ? Trevena. (Smiling.) You ought to know by this time — I was unnecessarily frank on Sunday, perhaps Janion. Don't apologise. Things have happened since Sunday. Trevena. For instance. (Reading from the paper on the desk.) " Great Mass Meeting of the Unemployed in Trafalgar Square. Protest against the Wages Bill." (Turning to Janion.) Your meeting, of course ? Janion. That's what you think — is it ? The stereotyped attitude of official scepticism, eh ? I should have thought you had intelligence enough to see the true significance of what's going on. Trevena. Janion, give me a week, and I undertake to get up a meeting in Trafalgar Square to protest against any- thing you like to mention. True significance of these meetings — pshaw ! They begin in a public place, and end in a pubUc-house. THE EARTH 105 Janion. That is a flippancy better suited to the House of Commons at question time. I've come to you on a serious mission — the sooner you understand that, the better for you, Trevena. Trevena. A serious mission ! What is that ? Janion. (With deliberate emphasis.) To tell you that the Government must abandon the Wages Bill. (Trevena looks at him in puzzled silence for a minute.) Trevena. I have every wish to treat you seriously, my dear Janion ; but it seems to me that this is merely what you have been telling everyone, in every kind of print, for the past month. Janion. Precisely. And I meant it. The country doesn't want your Bill — I mean to see they don't get it. I understand the discussion is down for Monday next — there isn't much time for the Government to de- cide. Trevena. They have decided. On next Monday I shall intro- duce the Bill. Janion. I think not, Trevena, I think not. My object in 106 THE EARTH coming here to night is to — persuade you to with- draw it. Trevena. (Drily, after an instant's pause.) Indeed. Janion. When I say persuade you, Trevena, I know what I'm talking about. I know that you are the Wages Bill. I know that without you the Government would never have embarked on it; many of them — most of them — would thank their stars if they could be rid of it. They're afraid of it — afraid of it. It has needed all your influence and enthusiasm to keep them up to the scratch. You can't deny that. Trevena. Who am I, my dear Janion, that I should deny the ipse dixit of an all-wise, all-seeing — Press ? Janion. Come, Trevena, that pose is worn out. Some of our judges and statesmen still seem to think it the hall-mark of exalted wisdom to speak contemptuously of the Press. It won't work. Take it from me, it won't work. We've got the whip-hand of you — the last word on every question is always with us. I am here now to give you my last word on the Wages Bill. The country is up in arms against it — I have proved that clearly, day after day. Are you going to insist on forcing your measure on them, in spite of it? THE EARTH 107 Trevena. Certainly. I don't recognise your right to speak for them. Janion. When you first went into poHtics, we used to be rather good friends. I beUeved in you. I was willing to help you — I did help you more than you admit. If you were to show a disposition to listen to me — to trust me — I could help you more. There's very little I couldn't do for you — I might even make you Prime Minister one of these days. (Trevena smiles.) You smile at that — h'm ! Do you quite realise the power I have behind me ? Trevena. Fully, Janion. Janion. My position is one of complete independence. I have no party axe to grind, remember. I am neither Conservative, Liberal, nor Radical. My motive is public interest. I answer to one constituency alone — I am member for England, Trevena. Trevena. You are member for newspapers, Janion. Whatever your other motives, your first is circulation. I must be honest with you : I distrust you — I distrust your motives and I dislike your methods ; and while I'm always glad to meet you personally — politically, I will have nothing to do with you. (A slight pause.) 108 THE EARTH Janion. If you do not withdraw the Wages Bill, Trevena, politically — you will cease to exist. Trevena. {Rising slowly.) The last word on the Wages Bill is with me, Janion, and I've given it. I don't see that either of us has anything to gain by pursuing the subject. Janion. On the contrary, you have a good deal to gain — or lose. You had better sit down. (Trevena looks at him in surprise, then quietly resumes his seat.) This Bill of yours has got to go — make up your mind to that. I've told you from the first what I thought of it ; I've gone to enormous trouble to show you what the country thinks of it. I've given you every opportunity to reconsider your position. You won't listen to us. Very well, then, we've got to find means to make you listen. If I can't persuade you to withdraw the Wages Bill, I can force you to do it. Trevena. You? Janion. {Quietly.) Unless you are prepared to face a scandal that will drive you from public life. (Trevena stares at him in grave silence for some moments.) THE EARTH 109 Trevena. Janion — have you taken leave of your senses ? Janion. I am quite sane, thank you. It doesn't take a cartload of sense to know that you could not remain a member of the Government, or of the House even, after figuring as the co-respondent in a notorious divorce case. Trevena. What do you mean ? What are you hinting at ? Janion. You know what I mean. {Brusquely.) I refer to your relations with Lady Killone. Trevena. You ! (Rising.) That's enough, Janion. Your insinuations against me I can afford to treat with contempt — but when you slander a lady who — how dare you come to me with this wretched gossip ? Janion. Gossip ! Do you think I've come here to gossip f Trevena. I refuse to discuss it ! I won't hear another word. (Going towards the bell on the right wall.) You can go — at once. Janion. (As Trevena is about to press the bell.) Trevena, 110 THE EARTH ring that bell, and I walk straight out of this house to Lord Killone. Trevena. {Turning to him.) Go to him — go to him ! What- ever his faults, Killone is enough of a gentleman to turn you out of his house, as I do out of mine. Janion. {Very quietly.) No, you don't, Trevena — you have too much to lose. And Killone wouldn't either — I know him better than you do. If you are fool enough not to listen to me, what will happen ? I shall go to Killone to-night ; I shall put him in possession, of certain definite information I have obtained ; to-morrow he will send for his solicitor, and instruct him to file a petition for divorce. That is as certain as that the sun will rise. (Trevena has remained standing on the right of his desk, staring in front of him.) Trevena. Information ! What infamous lies have you got hold of? Janion. A number of carefully attested facts ; you will deny them, of course — that is the code of honour in these matters. But no jury in the country will have any hesitation in finding for the petitioner. {A pause) Do you still wish me to go, or do you prefer to know how much it may be necessary to deny ? THE EARTH 111 Trevena. {Coming to the chair above his desk.) Your facts — I'll hear them. What are they ? (Janion takes a sheet of paper from his letter-case.) Janion. There is a certain flat in Maida Vale — (looking at the paper) No. 33, St. Alban's Mansions — do you know it ? Trevena. Yes. Janion. {Still looking at the paper.) It has been occupied, for the past four years, by an old la — woman, a Mrs. Meadows. Trevena. Yes — she was my housekeeper many years ago — she is an old family pensioner. Janion. So I understand. The rent of the flat is a hundred and forty per annum. It is paid quarterly, by cheque ^by you. Your family pensioners appear to be in clover. Trevena. That is our concern. Janion. Quite so. {Consulting the paper.) The porter at St. 112 THE EARTH Alban's Mansions has identified you, and Lady Kil- lone, from photographs. He will swear that, during the year he has been at the Mansions, he has re- peatedly seen you, and Lady Killone, arrive singly, within half an hour of each other, and leave separ- ately, some hours later. The occupant of No. 32 will give evidence of a similar nature. The evidence of this witness covers a period of more than two years, and, on three occasions in the past year, con- firms that of the porter as to date. {He pauses.) Trevena. It's preposterous ! — identification from photographs ! They're mistaken, or else they are lying. The thing's preposterous ! Janion. The night before last, two persons acting for me saw you arrive at the Mansions at five minutes to eight. Lady Killone arrived at two minutes past. You were both known by sight to both of them. Lady Killone left at half past eleven — a quarter of an hour later you left. Shall I go on ? Trevena. There are over forty flats in St. Alban's Mansions. The evidence of two paid spies will hardly convince any sane person that she was with me. (Janion /oWs up the first paper and takes a larger blue paper from his letter-case while speaking.) Janion. Late this afternoon, Mrs. Meadows was interviewed THE EARTH 113 iby these same two persons. At first she denied every- thing ; but becoming, possibly, nervous of consequences, she was eventually induced to sign this statement. (He rises, comes to Trevena, and holds out the paper, gripping it firmly.) Do you wish to see it ? (Trevena turns his head and stares at the paper, reading it.) Trevena. {Suddenly facing Janion.) You — you ought to be horsewhipped ! But I suppose you'd turn even that into an advertisement. Janion. (Putting the paper in his letter-case.) No — I prefer to do my advertising on someone else's back. (He goes to the back of the settee, and stands looking at the fire.) Trevena. (After a pause.) Janion, if this matter had touched me only — if it had meant nothing more than the finish- ing of my career, I'd defy you. I'd throw you out of the house. But you've struck at me through a woman's good name — and you know I can't let her run the risk of losing it. My hands are tied. You've got me — what do you want? Janion. (Turning to Trevena.) 1 want the Wages Bill. Trevena. (Staring at him.) You — you can't mean that ! 8 114 THE EARTH Janion. I have never meant anything so emphatically in my life. Trevena. (Dazed.) It doesn't seem — possible. {He goes slowly up to the window.) I {Excitedly.) You must give me time — I must have time — to think — to know what I'm doing. Janion. Either you withdraw the Wages Bill or I go to Lord Killone. (Trevena comes back unsteadily to his chair at the desk, where he sits with his arms stretched out on the desk, staring before him in silence. At last he speaks — brokenly.) Trevena. Yes — you've got me. Very well. I shall see the Premier to-morrow. There will have to be a Cabinet meeting — some of them are in town. I suppose I shall be able to concoct some explanation that'll seem — plausible . . . Ha ! . . . The announcement will be made as soon as possible. Janion. {Taking a slip of paper from his letter-case.) The announcement will be made in to-morrow's issue of The Earth as follows : — {Reading :) " The Earth is enabled to inform its readers, on the highest authority, that the Wages Bill will not be brought forward THE EARTH 115 this session, and will, in all probability, ultimately be allowed to drop." I have got to see that my readers get important news before the readers of other papers. Trevena. Good God ! The whole thing to you is nothing but a journalistic scoop ! Janion. (Smiling.) The usual type of cheap sneer at the Press. I am inured to such attacks — they generally come from people who have something to conceal — they can't hurt me. J have no private spite to gratify, I have no personal advantage to gain. My action is dictated by public expediency, and I don't give a tinker's curse for what you may think of it. Trevena. {Rising quickly.) Janion, no more of that ! — or I won't undertake to keep my hands off you. {He rings the bell ; Janion closes and pockets his letter-case) There's nothing more to be said. {The two men stand silent., looking before them. After some moments' pause, the servant opens the door and stands waiting.) Trevena. {Without turning.) Show Sir Felix Janion out (Janion turns, picks up his hat and walks out briskly ; the servant closes the door. Trevena sits at his desk and 116 THE EARTH leans his head on his hands. After a few moments^ he goes to the table in the centre, takes a cigarette, then drops it on the floor, turns and crosses to the door on the left, and holds it wide open. A moment later Lady Killone comes into the room. Trevena speaks into the outer room.) Bent, tell Parker to call a taximeter at once. {He closes the door) Lady Killone. {Turning.) Well ? Trevena. {Trying to speak lightly.) Well — I got rid of him — at last. Lady Killone. What did he come for? {She throws her cloak on a chair, and then sits on the end of the settee.) Trevena. The Wages Bill, of course. Lady Killone. What a time he kept you ! Trevena. He talked leading articles at me — h'm ! He imagines he's running the Government, the country, and every- thing else. {A cab whistle is heard outside.) Lady Killone. He's running The Earth and it's turning his head. THE EAETH 117 (Big Ben begins to strike the four quarters.) The conceit of the man ! Trevena. H'm ! {Turning.) Twelve o'clock, Kitty — you mustn't stay any longer, dear. Lady Killone. Oh, but I must hear your speech first. Trevena. Speech — my speech ! {Slowly shaking his head) No — not to-night. I couldn't say it now — dear — it's too late. {He picks up her cloak, and holds it out for her.) Lady Killone. Very well, Den. {Getting into her cloak.) I shall insist on hearing it to-morrow. Trevena. Yes. I — I shall be busy — in the morning. Lady Killone. When? Trevena. I'll send you word. {Big Ben is booming twelve.) Lady Killone. {Going to the window and opening it.) How solemn Big Ben sounds at night. It's funny— it always makes 118 THE EARTH me think of death . . . destiny . . . the end. The sound is so — so final. The last word on time. {Turning brightly.) This time Monday night — the great speech will be over, Den. Trevena. (Staring in front of him.) Over Lady Killone. {Looking at him., puzzled.) Den — you're not nervous about it ? {Coming to him.) Trevena. No, dear, no. Lady Killone. I shall be, though. Trevena. {Taking her in his arms.) Good-night, dear — good- night. {He kisses her.) Oh, you are the best thing I have in the world. Lady Killone. Why, what's the matter, Den ? Trevena. Nothing, dear — nothing. (Parker opens the centre doors.) Parker. The cab is at the door, sir. {He disappears in the hall.) THE EARTH 119 Trevena. I'm tired — couldn't sleep last night — travelling all day. {Taking her up to the doors.) Time means money when your taxi's waiting. (Laughing.) Come, dear, come. {They go out.) End of the Third Act. THE FOURTH ACT THE FOURTH ACT Scene : — The Chiefs Office, Janion Buildings, E.C. A luxuriously furnished room. On the right a wide rectangular bay window, with a window seat. On the right back a door, now wide open, showing a smaller office beyond. On the left another door. Below this, near the centre of the stage and parallel to the footlights, a large Empire desk. At the back bookshelves let into the wall, filled principally with Encyclopcedias. Against the wall at back a table on which are news- papers, &'c. On the left a large fireplace. Three or four Empire armchairs complete the furnishing of the room. In the right corner of the room a bust on a pedestal. Hung from the bookcase at back is a contents bill of The Earth, containing a single announcement in huge letters : THE WAGES BILL ABANDONED, (When the curtain rises Robinson, a rather weedy looking, pale young man, with spectacles and an occasional asthmatical cough, is engaged in making notes from a volume of one of the Encyclopcedias, which he rests partially on the shelf. Through the open door Stronge can be 123 124 THE EARTH seen writing at his desk, on which stands a telephone. Michael Dickson is seated on the edge of the large desk facing the audience. In his hands is a copy of The Earth, from which he is reading aloud in exultant tones.) Dickson. (Reading.) " The Earth is enabled to inform its readers, on the highest authority, that the Wages Bell wull not be brought forward this sassion, and wuU, in all probability, eventually be allowed to drop." {He almost shouts the last word.) Stronge. (In office at back.) That makes the seventh time you've read that out. Dickson. Man dear, I've had me breakfast on ut, and I'm goin' to lunch, dine, and sup off ut before I'm done. [Gets up.) It's great — ut — ut bangs Banagher ! Stronge. Yes, but give it a rest. (Coming down to the desk with papers) Robinson. (Looking across with a smile.) We ought to make a record circulation to-day. Dickson. You bat ! An' the way ut's done, man ! {Coming over, with his finger on the paragraph) Just one wee paragraph in big black type — not another word in the THE EARTH 125 whole paper ! By Gad ! it'll turn London upside down ! " The Earth is enabled " Stronge. Oh, chuck it ! (He goes back to his office.) Dickson. " to inform uts readers, on the highest autho- rity ijhe door on the left is opened by an office boy in buttons. Janion enters briskly. He is wearing his hat and motor coat, for which the Boy stands waiting. Janion stops^ watching Dickson, who, not hearing, goes on.) " that the Wages Bell wuU not be introduced this sassion, and wu " Janion. That'll do, Michael. {Smiling grimly) Dickson. {Jumping round.) Didn't expect you so early. Sir Felix. Janion. {Giving his hat and coat to the Boy.) Send Mr. Morrish here. (The Boy touches his forelock and goes out. Robinson hurriedly gathers his notes together, and returns the book to the shelf.) Dickson. This is a great day for England ! {Holding up the paper.) A thunderbolt from the Janion Jove ! 126 THE EARTH Janion. (Sitting in the chair at his desk.) That's done with now. Let's get on — let's get on. Michael, I've got a great idea — came to me when I was shaving. Dickson. Aye. That's the time. {He throws the paper, open, on the seat of chair on the right.) Janion. I'm going to bring out a new Encyclopaedia. Dickson. What — another ! Janion. {Nodding.) The Infant's Encyclopaedia. Dickson. {Stares at him for a second, then chuckles.) Man dear, but that's a rare good joke ! {Laughs.) Janion. Joke ! I'm perfectly serious. An Encyclopaedia of pictures — a picture of every conceivable thing on the earth — printed in colours, with the names underneath in the five principal languages — English, French, German, Japanese, and Esperanto. (Robinson, who is crossing behind him to the door on the left, gets a slight fit of coughing. Janion turns to him) THE EARTH 127 Dickson. i^ {Nodding his head.) Aye — aye ! Janion. What do you think of it, Robinson ? (Stronge comes from the further room to Janion.) Robinson. {Coming down.) I — I think it's just big, sir. Janion. {Turning to Dickson.) There now ! {To Stronge.) Yes? Stronge. The Reverend Mr. McKenzie would like to see you, sir. Janion. Oh. Stronge. About the new serial for Soft Words, I think. Janion. Right, I'll see him. (Stronge goes out. Janion turns to Robinson.) Why, no nursery in Europe, Asia, or America can be. without it. Robinson. It certainly gets down to the bed-rock of education — the baby. 128 THE EARTH Janion. That's good — " Bed-rock of education " — {he makes a note), "the baby." You're looking seedy, Robinson. (Stronge brings on the Reverend Malcolm McKenzie, a dour-looking sectarian minister, in frock coat and white tie.) Robinson. It's only this cough, sir. Janion. Been working too hard ? Robinson. Oh, it's not that Janion. Yes, you have. Tell you what we'll do. I'll get Jones to take over the editing of The Arrow. You take a hundred pounds, and get away and have a month in Switzerland. That'll set you up again. Robinson. (Stammering, overwhelmed) Oh ! Sir Felix — you're Janion. That's all right. Don't talk— don't talk. Get along. (Janion turns to McKenzie. Robinson, with a look of stupefied gratitude, goes out.) Well, Mr. McKenzie. McKenzie. Good-morning to you, sir. {He speaks Lowland Scottish.) THE EARTH 129 Janion. The " Daughter of Babylon's " pretty strong stuff, eh ? Ought to buck up your circulation again. McKenzie. Sir Felix, when you appointed me manager of your Releegious Publications Department, you said I should take my orders from my conscience and my salary from you. Well, my conscience doesn't approve of "The Daughter of Babylon." (TAe buzzer rings in the office at the back.) Stronge. Yes, I'll ask him. {Comes down to Janion.) Janion. Oh, doesn't it ? Dickson. Why, man, it's the finest thing of the kind ever written. The world, the flesh, and the devil served up for Sunday readin' with religious sauce. {He goes to the fireplace.) Janion. {Turning to Stronge.) Well ? Stronge. {In low tones.) Mr. Trevena on the telephone, sir. Wants to know where he can see you. Very important, 9 130 THE EARTH Janion. Oh, does he ! Tell him I'm here — here all the morning. (Stronge returns to his office^ closing the door. To McKenzie.) What's the matter with it ? — it's a Biblical story. McKenzie. I venture to suggest, sir, that the morality of the tale is too literally scriptural for our Sunday readers. Janion. {Frowning.) Nonsense ! We've bought the story. Dickson. (To Janion.) We can stick ut into Happy Homes. That's dyin', needs a bit o' strong meat. It'll make its fortune. McKenzie. The traditions of Soft Words would be better suited by something more soberly religious in character. Janion. Oh, very well ; slap your blessed religion into every damned paragraph, if you like . . . (McKenzie is hurrying to the door; Janion calls after him) But remember, my papers have got to sell — I'm not giving away tracts. Good-morning. THE EARTH 131 McKenzie. Good-morning, Sir Felix. {He goes into the office, closing the door.) Janion. Yes, Michael, that's the idea — everything on earth, in coloured pictures. Dickson. The cost'U be enormous. Janion. We'll get it back by advertisement — there's nothing we can't advertise into a success. Dickson. Everything on the earth — ut'U keep The Earth before them. (MoRRiSH enters by the door on the left.) Janion. I've thought of that. Dickson. {With a grin.) England's infants suckled on The Earth. Janion. Don't be coarse, Michael. {Seeing Morrish.) Oh, 132 THE EARTH Morrish, what did I want, now ? {Tapping his forehead.) Yes, I know. There's a new soprano coming out at the Opera to-morrow night — a young German. Write her up — give her a regular boom. Morrish. Yes, sir. Is she — at all — remarkable ? Janion. I believe so. And I'm tired of the hardy annuals — the earth belongs to the young. Discover her, boom her every time she appears — make her. It's time we discovered something new. Besides, I want to improve our relations with Germany. That's all. (Morrish goes out. Janion rises and walks about.) It's a big idea, Michael — the more I think of it. The educational value of pictures is established ; — and then the simul- taneous acquisition of several languages — that's the idea, that'll bite — that'll catch the public. Dickson. Aye, the kids'U learn three or four languages before they can talk. (Stronge, who has come from the office, closing the door after him, hands Janion a card, who looks at it in amazement, looks at Stronge, then again at the card.) Janion. Is she — here ? THE EARTH 133 Stronge. She's waiting. Janion. (Staring at the card, then nodding.) When I ring. (Stronge goes out. Janion hands the card to Dickson, who looks at it, then stares at Janion.) Dickson. What's the meanin' of ut ? Janion. Trevena sent her, of course — to get round me. Dickson. Get round you ! (With a chuckle.) She'll have a damned long walk. {Throws the card on the desk.) Janion. (Turning and catching sight of contents bill.) Who put that there, Michael ? Dickson. All my bloomin' enthusiasm. Janion. Put it away — put it away. (Going up to bookcase.) 134 THE EARTH Dickson. [Folding the bill up.) I will that — next me heart. {He puts it in his breast pocket.^ and goes out by the door on the left. Janion stands for a moment^ thinking and smiling to himself. Then he sits down. He presses the bell on his desk, then, taking up a pen, begins making notes on slips of paper, &c. Stronge shows in Lady Killone and then retires.) Janion. (Rising.) Good-morning, Lady Killone — good- morning. I know you'll excuse me — you've caught me just up to my neck in work. But anything I can do for you — delighted — delighted ! {Pointing to arm- chair.) Won't you sit down ? {He goes on writing. Lady Killone stands looking at him for a moment.) Lady Killone. Thank you. {She goes to the chair. As she is about to sit, she sees the copy of The Earth on the seat, picks it up with her finger tips and drops it on the floor. Then she sits down.) I suppose, Sir Felix, you can guess what I have come about. Janion. Afraid I've no time for guessing, Lady Killone ; you'd better tell me. {Goes on writing.) THE EARTH 135 Lady Killone. It's about — this. (Pointing to the paper on the floor.) Janion. {Looking up.) Eh ?— that !— What ?— what's that ? Lady Killone. Your announcement that the Wages Bill is abandoned. Janion. Yes . . . yes ... to be sure. {Leaning back.) Of course ... of course. So you've seen that, have you ? Lady Killone. Yes. When I read it I couldn't believe it. I thought it must be an invention ... a well-timed reclame. It seemed to me too wildly impossible, even for a newspaper. But I couldn't stand the uncertainty. I went to see Mr. Trevena. At first he tried to hide the truth — he wanted to spare me — but I had guessed ; and in the end he told me . . . everything that passed between you. Janion. Did he ? — humph ! Lady Killone. Everything. (A slight pause.) 136 THE EARTH Janion. Lady Killone, if Mr. Trevena sent you here to try to induce me to alter my determination, I may tell you at once he is wasting both your time and mine. I can't say what your time's worth . . . mine means more than money. Lady Killone. Mr. Trevena didn't send me; understand that, please ... he doesn't know I am here ... he wouldn't have let me come. Janion. Then what have you come for ? Lady Killone. I have come to ask you to contradict this announce- ment. Janion. Really — ha! I should be delighted to oblige you, Lady Killone, but I never contradict a fact — if I can help it. The Wages Bill is abandoned — that is a fact. Lady Killone. On the contrary — ^it is not a fact. Janion. The official announcement has to come yet, I know — but I have Trevena's word. THE EARTH 137 Lady Killone. You have a promise extorted by a threat. Is that usually considered binding? Janion. It is binding — invariably — as long as the threat remains to keep the promise up to the scratch. Lady Killone. I don't know what precise pledge — if any — Mr. Trevena gave you. It hardly matters, I think. The shock of learning what you had — discovered ... a man may be excused for not seeing clearly at such a moment . . . the first impulse is to promise anything and everything . . . Janion. I thrashed this matter out fully with Trevena last night. I am not going to reopen it with you. He realised quite clearly what he was promising, and the consequences of refusing. He agreed to withdraw the Wages Bill. The withdrawal is announced in to- day's issue of The Earth. The matter is settled. And now, if you have any more to say — I'm extremely busy — be good enough to let me have it quick. {He resumes writing. A pause.) Lady Killone. I am to understand, then, that if Mr. Trevena refuses to withdraw this Bill, you will take the result of your 138 THE EARTH private investigations to my husband, and suggest that he should divorce me ? Janion. {Looking al her.) I do not think the suggestion will be necessary. Have you any doubt that he would do so ? Lady Killone. None. Janion. Quite so — and you may be equally certain that I should go to him. (He goes on writing. A slight pause.) Lady Killone. {Nodding her head slowly.) It is just as well to know the worst ; for I can assure, Sir Felix, Mr. Trevena will refuse to withdraw the Wages Bill. Janion. {Without looking up.) Right ! That's a matter that rests with you and him. You must settle it between you. Lady Killone. It rests with me — only with me. I know just as well as you do why Mr. Trevena gave way at your threat. You know it wasn't to save himself from THE EARTH 139 political exile ; he isn't one of your place-hunting politicians clinging to office like a barnacle — he is a man who came into public life with a great ideal, and it is in the Wages Bill that he hoped to see it fulfilled. {She rises and goes to the desk.) Do you think such a man would give up his life's work — give it up at the very moment when attainment is in his grasp — just because of your threat to ruin his future career ? He wouldn't listen to you — he wouldn't listen to you. It's for me . . . for me he is doing it . . . the Wages Bill is to be sacrificed to shield me. Well, that can't be — it simply can't be. I won't accept the sacrifice. I couldn't ... I couldn't . . . the very thought of it ... I couldn't live ... I'd face anything rather than save myself at such a price. {She goes to the fireplace, turning away to hide her emotion. A pause) Janion. Lady Killone, I have nothing to do with all this. You'd better try those arguments on Trevena, if you think it's worth while. They are no concern of mine. Lady Killone. {Facing Janion.) They concern you just this much — you will not succeed in smashing the Bill. Come what may, the Wages Bill will go through. Make up your mind to that — it is the one thing certain. In the face of that, do you still intend to inform my husband ? Janion. Yes, Lady Killone. 140 THE EARTH Lady Killone. What have you to gain by it ? I can't believe it — it isn't possible. I have enough faith in the common decency of humanity to believe you couldn't do this, if you realised what you were doing. Janion. I am a business man. I take pretty good care to realise what I am doing, and all the possible conse- quences of doing it. Lady Killone. What has this to do with business ? And you're more than a business man — infinitely more. You have in your hands the biggest social and political power in the country. Have you no sense of your responsibilities? I simply can't believe that a man in your position could be so destitute of principle as to carry out the threat you made last night. Janion. Can't you ? — then you don't know me. I've said I will smash either Trevena or his Bill — quite frankly, I prefer the latter alternative. You talk of Trevena as a man with an ideal — you seem to think it's a knock-out argument. I grant it — he is an idealist — that's just what's wrong with him. There never yet was an idealist who was able to carry out a tenth part of what he promised. They tell you they're going to give you the moon, and they start to turn the earth upside down. Well, the moon is still there, but we're THE EARTH 141 not any nearer it because we're standing on our heads. They're all the same. I know them : all programme — tall talk — hot air — high falutin' bunkum, and they know as much of business as a busman does of botany. PoUtics is business — the business of governing the country. If this Wages Bill passes, I tell you, as a business man, the result will be industrial chaos. An ideahst in politics, to me, is a mad dog, and I'd destroy him, as I'd destroy a mad dog, with the first effective weapon I could lay my hands on. There's my principle for you — self-preservation — and it's a pretty general one. Lady Killone. You 'don't aim very high. Janion. No, I prefer to aim at the bull's eye — and get there. Lady Killone. Do you think any honourable man would be willing to " get there " by the means you use against the Wages Bill — a threat to ruin a woman's reputation? Janion. As regards your reputation. Lady Killone, you seem to forget— I am giving you a chance of saving it. Lady Killone. Giving ! 142 THE EARTH Janion. I am not so sure that I am even justified in doing it. I am not at all sure that, as an honourable man, I ought not to go at once to Lord Killone and lay the facts before him. You are not exactly anxious for that, are you ? Lady Killone. Do you really believe you have any right to pry into our private lives — any right to go to Lord Killone ? I suppose there is nothing you don't know or can't know, if you want to, with your interviewers and reporters, your little army of Paul Prys and Peeping Toms. But is nothing in our whole lives to be left to our consciences ? What is it to you whether I am innocent or guilty ? What right have you to judge me ? Janion. I have no desire to judge you — your husband can do that. In the case of Trevena I have every right — a duty even. Trevena is a public man — a public servant Lady Killone. And at a hint that his private life isn't modelled on their wooden pattern of propriety, the public will forget his service. If it would profit you to save him, you would compromise — lie — do anything to hush it up. But it doesn't, and the British hypocrite is virtuously indignant — " It's our duty — let us be moral — there's money in it." THE EARTH 143 Janion. H'm ! Your views on that question are hardly disinterested. The purity of public life is one of the greatest of our national treasures. I don't want to have to discuss your relations with Trevena — the subject is a very painful one Lady Killone. (Going over to the window, where she stands looking out.) It is not very pleasant for me. Janion. You should have considered that before you came here. I should be very sorry — very sorry indeed — if you should suffer in this business. But the matter is one of grave public moment ; in such cases the indi- vidual doesn't count — cannot be allowed to count ; and though I sympathise with you personally Lady Killone. (Turning to him.) If you had a grain of sympathy for me, you couldn't act as you are doing. (A slight pause. She crosses the room and sits near the desk.) Sir Felix, you are a man of the world, you must take a wider view of right and wrong than the common conventional one. You don't think I am altogether to blame — you can't. You say you sympathise with me. If you knew what my married life has been — almost from the first — oh, but you know enough ! Nothing could describe it — nothing— until I met Mr. Trevena. My friendship with him has been the one good thing in my life — yes, in 144 THE EARTH spite of all, the only thing that made me feel I was of any use in the world — a decent member of society. That sounds odd, but it's true — one of the strange per- verse truths that stupid people cannot see. But you can see it. You must see the cruelty — the unspeakable meanness of what you are doing. Janion. What I am doing is a political expedient — no worse than many another. I'm afraid I can't see it from your sentimental standpoint. You didn't come here to appeal to my chivalry — you don't believe I've got any. You didn't come to ask for my pity, or my sympathy — you don't give a button for them. You came to beg for the Wages Bill — well, you can't have it. The interests of the country are in my keeping. I simply won't have this iU-digested piece of legislative lunacy foisted on them. I take the only means I've got to rid them of it. Lady Killone. You refuse, then — you refuse to contradict that ? {Pointing to the paper.) Janion. Absolutely. Lady Killone. You will regret it. I tell you, before the day is out, this announcement will be publicly contradicted. If you will not, Mr. Trevena will do it. THE EARTH 145 Janion. Will he ? — ^ha ! You seem very sure of that. Try him — he knows what will happen. (Lady Killone rises and goes towards the door.) Go to him and ask him now. Wait a bit ! {Pressing the bell on his desk.) It's possible he may be here. He 'phoned just now he was coming to see me. One way or the other, I want the matter settled — and settled at once. (To Stronge, who has entered and come down to the desk) When Mr. Trevena comes — Stronge. He's waiting, sir. I told him Janion. Show him in. (Stronge goes out. Lady Killone goes to the table at the back. Then Stronge shows in Trevena and goes out. Trevena stands staring in astonishment at Lady Killone.) Trevena. You ? — why are you here ? Janion. Lady Killone imagined that a Uttle gentle persuasion would make me throw up my hand. What can I do for you ? (Trevena looks from one to the other, then comes to the desk, speaking very quietly.) 10 146 THE EARTH Trevena. I haven't seen the Premier yet. He left town last night. He returns at midday. Before I see him we must settle one thing. How did you get the informa- tion you publish this morning ? Janion. {Puzzled.) You know as well as I do — what do you ask for ? Trevena. I shall be asked. Can I tell them that I gave it to you? Janion. Of course you can't. If they ask you, you know nothing about it. Trevena. There is the Official Secrets Act, which you seem to have overlooked. (Janion looks at him quickly.) It is possible that you may be called on to give an explana- tion. They may not think it worth while to order an inquiry, but if they should — well, you had better be ready with your " story " — and evidence to prove it. Janion. {Thinking.) I see, yes — yes. I see. Well, we'll soon settle that. The information was sold to my editor by one of your servants. You choose your man — I'll see that he's squared. THE EARTH 147 Trevena. Put that out of the question, Janion. (J ANION looks at him, then shrugs his shoulders. A pause.) Janion. You let me have a letter — in your own hand — written to one of your friends — saying you propose to withdraw the Bill — it needn't be finished. That letter was stol — abstracted from your desk — by an interviewer, who offered it to me. Trevena. I have no doubt you can find a trusty professional scapegoat on the premises. Janion. You supply the letter — I'll supply the man. Trevena. Very well. This dirty business is bolstered with lies. I thought it wise to see that they were good ones. That is all I have to say to you. {Going towards the door.) Lady Killone. Are you sure ? Are you sure of that ? {He turns to her.) Do you think the dirty business will end here — that there won't be more lies needed to bolster it up ? {Coming to him.) Den, you're not going to let him blackmail you? 148 THE EARTH Trevena. My God ! how can I help it ? Lady Killone. You didn't think last night — you didn't realise — you didn't count the cost Trevena. (/« a low voice.) What's the good of saying that ? — I'm tied hand and foot. Lady Killone. You're tied hand and foot for the rest of your life if you give in now. This is only the beginning ; do you think he'll forget what he knows . . . Janion. {Sharply.) Look herie, Trevena. I understood this matter was settled. Lady Killone has seen fit to reopen it. I want to know where I stand. Do you propose to go back on your word ? Lady Killone. His word ! Janion. {Loudly.) I am speaking to you, Trevena. Trevena. You needn't ask. You know I can't — you've got me. THE EARTH 149 Lady Killone. Why? — Because we're afraid — because we're afraid — that's why he's got us. Den, you're doing it for me — ^for me. I'm not afraid — I'll face it — I'll face the scandal — anything rather . . . Janion. {Jumping up.) If Lady Killone imagines that I'm not capable of carrying out . . . Lady Killone. You're capable of anything — I know it, believe me. Trevena. It's no use, Kitty ! Janion. If either of you thinks I'm to be bounced out of my position, you've only got to say the word, Trevena, you've only got to refuse — I take my information to Lord Killone this minute. And you can send someone with me to see that I do it. {A slight pause) Lady Killone. You've heard his threat. That's the worst— the very worst he can do to us. We have to face the Divorce Court. If it weren't for me, you'd face it— I know you would. I'll not let you be made a coward to save me— I don't care— I ask you to face it. 150 THE EARTH Trevena. Drag you down to that . . . Lady Killone. You can drag me lower — there are worse depths. To know that for me you had betrayed your trust — betrayed it because we haven't the moral courage to defy a cowardly . . . Janion. (Loudly.) I've had enough of this ! I want no more arguments. I'm dealing with you, Trevena. If I don't get official confirmation that the Wages Bill is withdrawn by ten o'clock to-night, I go to Lord Killone. That's my last word. I've no time to listen to the ravings of hysterical women. {Flings his pencil on the desk, and goes to the fireplace.) Trevena. Damn your insolence — damn you ! Do you think it isn't true — what she said to me? It's the simple truth. I give in to you because I daren't let her face the horrible notoriety, because I won't drag her through the Divorce Court, to be pilloried and placarded in your infernal columns. Do you ever think what it means to a refined and sensitive woman, to have her name bandied about by you before millions of curious eyes ? You, the self-styled mouthpiece of a great country that professes the charity of Christ — you, who make your filthy profits by selling a woman's THE EARTH 151 shame at the street corners in your miserable rags ! You're ghouls — you're ghouls, I tell you ! — feeding on human misery, and human frailty and shame. (Trevena turns to Lady Killone.) Come away, Kitty — let's get out of this. (Going towards the door.) Lady Killone. No ! no ! — I'm not going. (Trevena stares at her. Janion stands watching them.) I swear to you, I don't leave this room till you tell him you refuse to with- draw the Wages Bill. Trevena. {In a low voice.) Kitty, it's impossible. Lady Killone. I came here to ask Sir Felix Janion to contradict the announcement that the Bill is withdrawn. He refuses. I told him that you would contradict it. I'm not afraid, I tell you — I'll face the worst. You must. Den. Trevena. I can't. Lady Killone. You must contradict it. Trevena. No, Kitty. 152 THE EARTH Lady Killone. Very well, then — I know what I have to do. (She goes to the end of the desk and speaks across at Janion.) I am going straight from here to the office of the Press Association. I shall dictate the entire story of this intrigue — this political expedient — this blackmail — this — call it what you will. This afternoon the truth — the whole truth — will be in every newspaper in the country — yours, perhaps, excepted. {She goes towards the door.) Janion. [Coming to the desk.) Do you know what that means ? Lady Killone. (Turning.) Ruin, yes — for me, ruin — ruin. But you'll share in it. When the world knows the part you've played in this, what will it mean for you ? {To Trevena.) Because you think it your duty to save me — because of what you owe me, you'd let him force you to this hideous bargain. I won't have it — I won't have it ! I'd choose any shame — any infamy — confess in public — I'd stand in a white sheet — anything — any- thing sooner than see you a party to it. Trevena. Kitty ! You don't mean . . . Lady Killone. As there's a God above us, I do mean it. Den, you have a higher duty than any man owes any woman. THE EARTH 153 Your work's not your own — no, nor your life. It be- longs to others, to the hundreds of thousands you work for. And you'd give it up. Why ? To save my good name — my reputation ; as if any woman's reputation was worth such a sacrifice ! Forty — fifty years hence, what will my name matter, so that your work was done ? What will it all matter, when history has put the wretched scandal that followed among the little petty things that don't count ? {Coming to him, and putting her hand on his arm.) Oh, Den — Den, it's your love that blinds you, or you couldn't — ^you couldn't — you couldn't think of it. {She almost breaks down, bending her head and crying. Trevena, looking straight at Janion, says quietly :) Trevena. Janion, on Monday I introduce the Wages Bill. You can do your worst. {He goes to the door and opens it. Janion. One moment, Trevena. (Trevena turns.) I want a word with you. Shut that door, please. (Trevena closes the door and comes down a little way. Janion goes over and stands facing Lady Killone, with a grim smile.) Lady Killone, I know when I'm beaten. You've beaten me— this time. You're a plucky woman. {He turns to Trevena.) For your own sakes, I can rely on you to keep this matter to yourselves. For my part, I under- take that the withdrawal of the Wages Bill shall be contradicted in the next editions of all my evening papers. {Then, as a humorous afterthought.) To- 154 THE EARTH morrow's issue of The Earth will, of course, inform its numerous readers of — er — a " regrettable inaccuracy on the part of our informant." {He takes out his letter-case and produces from it the blue paper with the signed confession of Mrs. Meadows.) As for this " political weapon," I have no further use for it. {He gives it to Trevena, then, looking from one to the other, says very quietly:) You're living on a precipice, you two. You'll fall over soon enough, without my pushing you. That's all. You can go. {He turns away and sits at his desk.) Trevena. Yes, we are going. But a day will come, Janion, when decent men and women will rebel against a tyranny that does not respect their private lives, that knows neither pity nor remorse, and then — you will go. (Janion smiles wisely, then shrugs his shoulders and picks up the receiver of the telephone. Trevena and Lady Killone go out.) The End. Plays of To-day and To-morrow Crown 8vo, cloth, 2/6 net per volume /^NE of the most interesting of recent developments has been the revival of the English Drama during the last few years. A new school of dramatists has arisen, whose work makes its appeal to an intelligent public, and has some claims to rank as literature. It is the object of the series of " Plays of To-day and To-morrow " to publish some of the most notable productions of this new movement. T. FISHER UNWIN, i, Adelphi Terrace, London, W.C. Plays of To-day & To-morrow Crown Sz'O, cloth, 2/6 net per volume DON By RUDOLF BESIER " Mr. Besier is a man who can see and think for himself, and construct as setting for the result of that activity a form of his own. The construc- tion of ' Don' is as daring as it is original." — Mr. Max Beerbohm in The Saturday Review. "It is a fresh and moving story . . . and full of good things." — Mr. A. B. Walkley in The Times. " ' Don ' is a genuine modern comedy, rich in observation and courage, and will add to the author's reputation as a sincere dramatist." — Mr. E. F. Spence in The Westminster Gazette. " If the essence of drama be conflict, the wrestle of will, then ' Don,' by Mr. Rudolf Besier, comes as near as any play I know to essential drama. It is a sparring match, in heaven knows how many rounds." — Mr. William Archer in The Nation. T. FISHER UN WIN, i, Adelphi Terrace, London, W.C THE MERMAID SERIES THE BEST PLAYS OF THE OLD DRAMATISTS Literal Reproductions of the Old Text With Photogravure Frontispieces The volumes may now be obtained bound in the following styles : I. Crown 8vo, uncut. Brown paper boards, with label, 3s. 6d. II. Crown 8vo, uncut. Green cloth, with gilt lettering on ink panel, 3s. 6d. III. Crown 8vo, uncut top. Brown cloth, with gilt lettering and decorative design in brown, 3s. 6d. IV. Crown Svo. Full vellum, with gilt lettering and gilt top, 6s. net. V. Thin Paper Edition. Cloth, gilt top, 2s. 6d. net. VI. „ „ „ Leather, gilt top, 3s. 6d. net. The Best Plays of Christopher Marlowe. Edited, with Critical Memoir and Notes by Havelock Ellis ; and containing a General Introduction to the Series by John Addington Symonds. The Best Plays of Thomas Otway. Introduction and Notes by the Hon. Roden Noel. The Complete Plays of William Congreve. Edited by Alex. C. Ewald. The Best Plays of John Ford; Edited by Havelock Ellis. The Best Plays of Philip Massinger. With Critical and Biographical Essay and Notes by Arthur Symons. 2 vols. The Best Plays of Thomas Heywood. Edited by A. W. Verity. With Introduction by J. A. Symonds. THE MERMAID SERIES— {Continued) The Complete Plays of William Wycherley. Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by W. C. Ward. Nero and Other Plays. Edited by H. P. Horne, Arthur Symons, a. W. Verity, and H. Ellis. The Best Plays of Beaumont and Fletcher. Introduc- tion and Notes by J. St. Loe Strachey. 2 vols. The Best Plays of Webster and Tourneur. With an Introduction and Notes by John Addington Symonds. The Best Plays of Thomas Middleton. With an Intro- duction by Algernon Charles Swinburne. 2 vols. The Best Plays of James Shirley. With Introduction by Edmund Gosse. The Best Plays of Thomas Dekker. Notes by Ernest Rhys. The Best Plays of Ben Jonson. Edited, with Introduc- tion and Notes, by Brinsley Nicholson and C. H. Herford. 3 vols. The Complete Plays of Richard Steele. Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by G. A. Aitken. The Best Plays of George Chapman. Edited by William Lyon Phelps, Instructor of English Literature at Yale College. The Select Plays of Sir John Vanbrugh. Edited, with an Introduction and Notes, by A. E. H. Swain. The Best Plays of John Dryden. Edited, with an Introduction and Notes, by George Saintsbury. 2 vols. The Best Plays of Thomas Shadwell. Edited, with an Introduction and Notes, by George Saintsbury. The Best Plays of George Farquhar. Edited, with an Introduction, by William Archer. The Complete Plays of Robert Greene. Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by Thomas H. Dickinson. T. FISHER UNWIN, I, Adelphi Terrace, London, W.C. Ube Sresbam ipcess, UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED. WOKING AND LONDON.