lie House of Sand 
 
 Ignatius Walsh 
 
 Vy"±'.: 
 
 Loyola University Press 
 Ten Seventy-six West Twelfth Street, Chicago 
 
 1 i» 1 6 
 
The House of Sand 
 
 A MEDIATED TRAGEDY 
 IN FOUR ACTS 
 
 BY 
 
 Ignatius Walsh 
 
 LOYOLA UNIVERSITY PRESS 
 
 CHICAGO, ILL. 
 
 1916 
 

 Copyright, 1916 
 L0YOL.A Univbrsity 
 
 NOV 18 1916 
 
 ©CI.D 45578 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Mr. John Gormley, a philanthropic millionaire. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley, his wife. 
 
 Patricia Gormley, their daughter. 
 
 Francis Clinton, a former friend and associate of 
 
 Gormley. 
 Mr. McAuliffe^ a friend of Gormley. 
 Mrs. Fortin, wife of a former acquaintance of Gormley. 
 Geraldine Fortin, her daughter. 
 Grahame Talbot, husband of Geraldine Fortin. 
 Terence O'Donovan, a privileged servant. 
 Andrew, a servant. 
 Jordan, Gormley's private secretary. 
 Marston, Gormley's stenographer. 
 Mr. Stanley, a friend of Talbot. 
 Office boy. 
 
 Morgan | j^^ ^^^^^^^ 
 Howard ) 
 Reporters (five). 
 Club members (six). 
 
ACT I. 
 THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 Scene 1. Wealthy home. 
 
 (Back parlor of the Gormley home. Patricia Gormley 
 discovered at the piano. Begins to play cls curtain 
 rises. Song: Sweet and Low. John Gormley enters 
 with daily paper, about to read; glances affectionately 
 at daughter, lays paper on table; puts his arm around 
 her shoulder and turns music.) 
 Patricia (after song is over, as Gormley moves to 
 
 his easy chair): Oh, daddy, you look so tired. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley (entering): Yes, John, you do look 
 
 tired. Are you sick, dear? 
 
 Gormley (wearily): O, I'm all right, only — 
 Patricia (rising hastily and dropping down near her 
 
 father's feet): Only what, daddy? 
 
 Mrs. Gormley (anxiously) : Did you — did you lose 
 
 more today, John? 
 
 Gormley (throwing aside paper in despair): Yes, yes, 
 
 Lucille, I did lose more today. (Loud peal of door bell. 
 
 Gormley starts nervously up half out of the chair.) What 
 
 was that? (Daughter and wife regard him anxiously; 
 
 servant enters.) 
 
 Servant : Mr. McAuliff, sor, and another gintleman 
 
 to sae you about the parochial charity organization. They 
 
 said, if you were in, to tell you that it was very important, 
 
 and that they had to make some arrangemints for those 
 
 families tonight. 
 
 Gormley (half rising from chair): Well, I suppose 
 
I must — (Wearily, upon second thought.) O, tell them 
 Tm not in, Terence. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley: But, John, you're chairman of the 
 committee, and they depend upon you principally for the 
 financial support. 
 
 Gormley : I'm too tired, Lucille. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley: Very well, John. (To Terence): 
 Tell the gentlemen that Mr. Gormley is indisposed. 
 
 Terence: All right, mum. I'll tell thim that the 
 masther is indishposed to sae thim. 
 
 Patricia and Mrs. Gormley (in chorus, horrified, 
 hands raised in protest) : Mercy, no ! Don't do that. 
 
 Gormley (wearily): Say that I'm away from home. 
 
 Terence: All right, sor, I'll tell thim that you said 
 you're away from home. (Exit Terence.) 
 
 Mrs. Gormley (putting her arm around his neck): 
 Come, cheer up, dear, tomorrow you'll recover all you 
 have lost. 
 
 Patricia: Yes, do cheer up, daddy. I'll sing your 
 favorite song for you. (Song—Selected.) (Meantime 
 Gormley sits with his forehead on his hand; Mrs. Gormley 
 looks worried. Suddenly at the window a tramp's face 
 appears; he scrutinizes the room intently for three or 
 four minutes and also the occupants, whose backs are 
 towards him, all except Patricia who is turned two-thirds 
 away from, him. Gradually the music reacts on Gormley 
 and he turns around toward the piano. At sight of Gorm- 
 ley's profile the tramp at the window gives a start of 
 surprise; then, glueing his eyes to the pane, he stares in- 
 tently for half a minute at Gormley, then disappears.) 
 
 Patricia (turning around after finishing the song and 
 catching a glimpse of the face at the window) : O, father, 
 look at that man! 
 
 Gormley (jumping up): Where, where? 
 
 Patricia : The window. (Sinks into a chair. Mrs. 
 Gormley greatly perturbed. Gormley opens window and 
 looks out.) 
 
 Gormley : I can't see anyone. You must have im- 
 
 6 
 
agined it. But, no, here are tracks in the snow ! Terence ! 
 Terence ! 
 
 (Mrs. Gormley rings servant's hell. Enter Terence 
 with telegram; also two other servants. Great hub- 
 bub. Patricia and Mrs. Gormley go over and lean 
 out of window examining tracks.) 
 
 Gormley: Here, Andrew and Thomas, get some 
 more of the servants together and search the whole 
 grounds to see if you can find a tramp around here. But 
 be careful not to destroy these footprints in any way. 
 I'll be out there in a moment myself to examine them and 
 see where they lead to. Now, Terence, I want you — 
 What's that in your hand? 
 
 Terence: A telegram that just came for you, sor. 
 
 (Gormley opens and reads.) 
 
 Gormley (jubilantly) : Lucile, Lucile ! I didn't lose. 
 I won ! won ! 
 
 (Patricia and Mrs. Gormley hurry over eagerly and 
 gaze at the telegram over his shoulder.) 
 
 Patricia : Oh, daddy, I'm so glad ; now you won't 
 be unhappy any more. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley: I knew that the tide would turn 
 soon, dear. Everything was for the best. 
 
 Gormley : Yes, dears ; now I can — (Cries without; 
 lights visible through the window.) But I must go and 
 trace those footsteps. You go to bed ; don't wait up 
 for me. 
 
 Patricia : Good night, daddy. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley: Good night, John. (Exeunt.) 
 
 Gormley: Well, come along, Terence; we shall try 
 to find that tramp, if he's around here. (Exeunt.) 
 
 Scene 2. Library — Gormley Home. 
 About one week later. 
 
 (Gormley discovered reading. Enter Terence.) 
 Terence: There's a gintleman waiting at the front 
 7 
 
door, who wants to sae you, sor. He's rather shabbily 
 dressed, so Oi did not know whether you would want to 
 sae him or not. 
 
 GoRMLEY : O, admit him. (Exit Terence.) (Wear- 
 ily): I suppose it's more charity. 
 
 (Enter Francis Clinton, neatly, but shabbily, dressed.) 
 
 GoRMLEY (laying aside paper): Well, my friend, 
 what can I do for you ? (Reaching down into his pocket 
 for money.) You know there are regular, definite chan- 
 nels of charity for the needy; you should apply there. 
 I hope that this will be sufficient for your present wants. 
 (Tenders him a bill.) 
 
 Clinton: John Gormley, do you recognize me? 
 
 GoRMLEY : Sir, how dare you take the liberty of thus 
 addressing me? And yet — That voice is familiar. 
 Who are you, sir? 
 
 Clinton (removing his hat and lowering his coat 
 collar): Thirty years have made some difference, then? 
 I have altered somewhat since we left college together to 
 seek our fortunes in the Klondike district. 
 
 Gormley: Frank Clinton! (Rising and peering in 
 Clinton's face.) What do you want here? When we 
 parted each agreed to go his own way and let the other 
 alone. I have observed my part of the contract. 
 
 Clinton (coughs violently) : Yes, that was when we 
 parted. But since then I have learned many things; I 
 have studied in the school of experience; I have been 
 taught by that hard taskmaster, Adversity. I have come 
 to regard life, the world and everything in it in a very 
 different light. 
 
 Gormley: O, you have, have you? Well, what do 
 you want ? I am very busy. 
 
 Clinton : Let me tell you a little story, Gormley — 
 it won't take long and it will be worth your while to hear 
 it. Early in 1886 two young men, just graduated from 
 college, emigrated to the newly-discovered goldfields of 
 Alaska. Those two young men, Gormley, were you and 
 I — roaming college pals. For five months we toiled in- 
 
 8 
 
dustriously only to find ourselves at the end of that time 
 freezing, starving, penniless, completely disheartened. 
 Then, in utter despair, I one night stole into Fortin's 
 shack, murdered the man as he lay there sleeping, and 
 (racking cough) I took his money — took the money of 
 the man who had made the largest pile of all in the Yukon 
 region. But as I was leaving the cabin another man saw 
 me, saw what I had done, and caught me. (Here Gorm- 
 iey, who has been fidgeting, leaps up and begins to pace 
 the room.) He was stronger that I, and so he subdued 
 me. But, instead of turning me over to the tender 
 mercies of the camp, he offered me my freedom at the 
 price of half my stolen wealth — and I accepted the oflfer. 
 That man was — (Coughs.) 
 
 GoRMLEY (excitedly): It's false, it's false. You 
 have no evidence against me. 
 
 Clinton (coughing) : John Gormley, do you remem- 
 ber that paper we signed, each professing his share in 
 the crime, and of which each took a copy, so that one 
 could not betray the other without also involving him- 
 self? Take care! 
 
 Gromley (feverishly; Gormley leans across table 
 and stares, like a man at bay, into Clinton's eyes. Clinton 
 is seated L. C.) : Well, what do you want with me ? You 
 had your share. Why are you haunting me? Why do 
 you dog my steps? Think of my wife and daughter. 
 Would you expose me to them? Think of my social 
 position. Would you ruin me before the world ? I once 
 spared you. That is the only crime I ever committed ; 
 and must I still suffer for that? 
 
 Clinton : That is the only crime you ever com- 
 mitted? With that half million, stolen from the widow 
 and orphan of a murdered man, you got your start. On 
 that crime your whole fortune is built. You have never 
 made restitution for that act! (Coughs.) I am a sick 
 man, Gormley, and I dare not face my Maker with this 
 guilt upon my soul. All my money is gone — squandered 
 after I left you. Would to Heaven I had seen my crime 
 in its true light while I still had means to make amends. 
 
For twelve years I have searched for you. You were my 
 associate in crime; it lies in your power to make resti- 
 tution, and make it you must. (Rises and continues 
 passionately): John Gormley, such men as you are the 
 ruin of society; you resort to any means to get your 
 start in life, and then you become holy and saintly. Is 
 not the name of John Gormley famous from coast to 
 coast as a charity worker, a philanthropist, a pillar of 
 the Church? And, meantime, the wife and child of the 
 man you helped to rob are dying in want. Your life is 
 like a house of sand that children build on the seashore — 
 only it's weaker, pitifully weaker; instead of being made 
 even of sand, it's made only of lies, lies, and it's built 
 upon a crime. It was preordained that some day a wave 
 of truth should wash those falsehoods and that hypocrisy 
 away, just as the waters sport with the sand. Believe 
 me, Gormley, if I had the money I would not hesitate. 
 (Drops into a chair utterly exhausted and coughs vi- 
 olently.) 
 
 Gormley (who, all during this talk, has been pacing 
 up and down, chewing a cigar and nervously clenching 
 and unclenching his hands behind his back): Oh, I see 
 you've gotten religion. (Snarlingly) : It's a nice time 
 you got it, but you can't intimidate me. (Drawing a 
 revolver from the drawer of the library table.) Frank 
 Clinton, either you give me that paper, or — 
 
 Clinton (wearily): Don't; it's no use. I'm not 
 afraid to die, because I'm not long for this world, any- 
 how. Besides, I haven't the paper with me. I have put 
 it in the hands of a man who will know how to use it if 
 I don't return within a certain time. Yes, I got religion — 
 I wish I had gotten it sooner. (Sadly.) 
 
 Gormley (letting arm fall slowly to table and his 
 head dropping on his chest. Silence for a minute. Clin- 
 ton coughs horribly): It's true; it's true. O why is it 
 true? But what can I do? Think of my wife, my 
 daughter. A loss of half a million at this time will ruin 
 me, utterly ruin me; and they have been brought up in 
 luxury. I can't deprive them of these things they have 
 
 10 
 
always been used to. Name your own sum and leave 
 me — leave me alone. (Reaches for check hook.) 
 
 Clinton : Gormley (Coughs), I have made mistakes 
 in my life — many mistakes ; but I never have and (Raises 
 voice), with the help of God, I never will stoop to black- 
 mail. (Drops voice.) There is only one way. You 
 must restore the money to Fortin's wife and daughter. 
 I'll give you two months to make restitution; then — 
 
 Gormley (with head on arms, despondent — moan- 
 ing) : My wife, my daughter ; Patricia, Lucile ! 
 
 Clinton (arising and preparing to leave): Two 
 months to decide, and then I shall return. Two months. 
 Goodbye. (Exit.) 
 
 (Enter Terence. Finds Gormley gazing blankly into 
 space.) 
 
 Terence: Mr. Gormley — 
 
 Gormley (reviving) : Help me to bed, Terence. 
 (Gormley shuffles off, leaning upon Terence.) 
 
 Scene 3. Back parlor or sitting room of Gormley home. 
 One month later. 
 
 (Mrs. Gormley and Patricia discovered in earnest 
 
 conversation.) 
 Mrs. Gormley: I wonder, child, what is it makes 
 your father so sad and gloomy and morose for this past 
 month. It is not like him. (Slight pause. Mrs. Gormley 
 continues): It can't be money matters, because I know 
 that business has picked up wonderfully. (Pause of two 
 or three minutes.) 
 
 Patricia (hesitatingly) : Could — could it be Alfred? 
 You know his birthday comes next month. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley (starts — then, sadly): Yes, his birth- 
 day comes next month. My poor little baby boy. He 
 must be a big boy now (Swallows hard) if — if he's living. 
 But. hush, here comes your father. 
 
 ji 
 
(Enter Gormley, slightly grayer about temples, fur- 
 rows of care deeper.) 
 
 Patricia (running up and putting her arm around 
 his neck): What's the matter, daddy? 
 
 Gormley (wearily): Nothing; nothing. (Makes an 
 effort to arouse himself. Eyes his wife sharply.) You 
 have been crying, Lucile. (Mrs. Gorm^ley is silent.) 
 (Solicitously): What's the trouble, dear? (Looking at 
 Patricia.) You've been weeping, too. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley (convulsively): O, John, do you 
 know what month next month is? 
 
 Gormley (wonderingly) : Why, next month is — 
 (Pauses, horror-stricken.) Don't mind, Lucile; he's 
 happier now. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley (agonizedly): O, John, don't say 
 that ! I have always hoped to see Alfred again, ever 
 since he has been lost. Don't say that, John. 
 
 Gormley (sadly): I'm afraid there is no hope, dear. 
 Twenty-two years is a long, long time. 
 
 (Enter Terence.) 
 
 Terence : Gintleman to see you, sor, and he says to 
 tell you if you are out to be in. 
 
 Gtormley : What kind of a gentleman is he, Terence ? 
 
 Terence : O, he's much the same as iny ither human 
 beast — he has good clothes, bad looks and you can't tell 
 a thing about his heart from the outside. It's your friend, 
 Mr. McAuliffe, sor. Shall I show him in? 
 
 Gormley: Bring him in. 
 
 (Exit Terence.) 
 
 Mrs. Gormley : We'll leave you alone with your 
 caller, John. 
 
 (Exeunt Patricia and Mrs. Gormley. Enter Mr. 
 McAuliffe followed by Terence. Gormley rises and 
 welcomes McAuliffe. They shake hands.) 
 
 Gormley: How are you, McAuliffe? Terence, help 
 him off with his coat. 
 
 McAuliffe (to Terence, who had helped him off 
 
with his coat) : Yes, Terence, here is something to stop 
 that wagging tongue of yours for a while. (Gives Ter- 
 ence a cigar. Terence, behind Gormley's and McAuliffe's 
 backs, examines the cigar, smells it. Then he deftly 
 drops it into McAuliffe's overcoat pocket.) 
 
 Terence (aside): You never can tell by the looks. 
 Axcuse me. (Makes mock bow to McAuliffe behind the 
 hitter's back.) (Exit.) 
 
 McAuliffe: That's a jewel of a servant you have, 
 Gormley. One evening I was here that bold Hibernian 
 informed me that you were out. But I said to him : 
 "That can't be; I had an appointment with Mr. Gorm- 
 ley." Whereupon up spoke Terence: "Now don't you 
 be after disputing with me," he said, "the master of the 
 house himself just said he was out, and he ought to 
 know." That was a clincher. (They laugh.) 
 
 Gormley: Yes, Terence is a fine servant — a favorite 
 with all the family, in fact; but he is impossible, utterly 
 impossible. 
 
 McAuliffe (pauses for a few moments, each smiling 
 at his own thoughts of Terence. Suddenly becoming 
 serious): We received a rather unusual request for 
 charity today, Gormley, and I called to see you about it. 
 A poor fellow who has seen a good many of the ups and 
 downs of life, I guess, asked for assistance. He said to 
 mention the initials "F. C." to you and you would recom- 
 mend him. (Gormley, who has been fidgeting, here gets 
 up and begins to pace the room, hands working nervously 
 behind his back.) 
 
 Gormley (muttering) : One month, one month more. 
 My wife; my daughter. (Collecting his wits, but rather 
 dazed) : Certainly, help him. It's our duty to help him — 
 to help every one in straitened circumstances. 
 
 McAuliffe : He's very religious, but he's somewhat 
 deranged on the subject of society. He says it's mostly 
 rotten; that men embrace any crime in the calendar to 
 obtain wealth, and then, rising to affluence on their ill- 
 gotten gains, become pious hypocrites and philanthrop- 
 ists. O, he's bitter. Still a great deal of it's true, no 
 
 13 
 
doubt. I must admit that to you, even though we are 
 wealthy ourselves. 
 
 GoRMLEY (coming to a halt and speaking passion- 
 ately): Must a man be punished all his life for one 
 crime? Must he be punished thirty years after he has 
 obtained his wealth by a crime? Cannot his crime be 
 forgotten and forgiven in that time? How can he make 
 restitution? Think of his wife and his children. Would 
 these fellows have him deprive his vvife and children of 
 the luxury they have been accustomed to and give it to 
 people who have never known luxury? Oh, these re- 
 formers make me tired. I think I will go away for a 
 short vacation. (Rings bell.) You please take my 
 position as chairman of the Charity Committee while I'm 
 away, will you? Good-night, McAuliffe. 
 
 McAuliffe: Good-night, Gormley. (Exit.) (Enter 
 Terence.) 
 
 Gormley: Please tell Mrs. Gormley that I would 
 like to see her, Terence. You may say to her that I am 
 going away tonight for a short vacation. (Exeunt — 
 Gormley one side, Terence other.) 
 
 H 
 
ACT 11. 
 THE ATTEMPT AND THE FAILURE. 
 
 Scene 1. Gormley's office — two weeks later. 
 
 (Gormley discovered hard at work; a private secre- 
 tary and a stenographer also busy at work. Working 
 for a few minutes. Enter office boy.) 
 
 Office Boy : Gentleman to see you. 
 
 Gormley: Em out. (Querulously.) (Gormley, 
 more wrinkled and grayer, pauses in his work several 
 times; rubs his forehead with his hand; goes over and 
 takes drink; his hand trembles very noticeably. Returns 
 to desk. Private Secretary interviews him about some 
 business matters. Stenographer answers telephone — 
 leaves office with papers.) 
 
 Gormley (wearily): Jordan, you finish this matter. 
 I'm not feeling well. You can take these papers over to 
 Taylor now. And on your way out tell the boy to brin^;- 
 me in this afternoon's paper. 
 
 (Exit Jordan.) 
 
 (Gormley arises and moves restlessly about. Enter 
 office boy.) 
 
 Office Boy : Here's the paper, sir. 
 
 (Gormley turns pages of paper for about three min- 
 utes . Suddenly he bends forward intently, his eyes 
 glisten; he jumps up.) 
 
 Gormley: Is it possible? Is it true? Can it be? 
 (Reads newspaper item): *Tn a ward of the County 
 Hospital there died yesterday morning another human 
 
 15 
 
derelict. Francis Clinton was just another floater, just 
 another outcast gone and never missed." Gone! No 
 need for restitution now. Why impoverish Lucile and 
 Patricia now ? Never. And I had only two weeks more. 
 What a narrow escape! 
 
 Office Boy (sticking head in door): Did you ring, 
 sir? 
 
 GoRMLEY (starts): You red-headed, freckled face — 
 (Checks himself and regains his composure.) Come 
 here, young man. 
 
 (Enter office boy. Gormley turns his back to him. 
 Office boy cranes his neck and looks him over thor- 
 oughly. Gormley adjusts glasses, turns and regards 
 office boy, sternly.) 
 
 Gormley: Young man, I ought to dismiss you for 
 your insolence. (Office boy makes a wry face.) But I 
 won't. I want you to take a message to my wife ; I have 
 no time to write it. Tell her and my daughter to meet 
 me in an hour and to be dressed for the opera. If she 
 wants to know why, tell her it's a little celebration. Now 
 hurry. (Office boy starts to move away.) Here (tenders 
 office boy a dollar bill), have a celebration yourself, only 
 hurry (Gormley turns back to office boy. Office boy, 
 amazed, takes bill, feels it, examines it by holding it up to 
 light; walks around on tip-toes behind Gormley and nods 
 his head.) 
 
 Gormley (turning): Aren't you gone yet, you 
 sloth— 
 
 Office Boy: Ye-es, yes; that is, I'm going directly, 
 sir. (Exit.) 
 
 (Gormley begins to smoke. Noise without. Office 
 boy says, "Yes, right in there." Enter Reporters.) 
 
 Spokesman of Reporters: Mr. John Gormley, I 
 believe. We are reporters representing the Sun, the 
 Herald, the Post, the Blade and the Clarion. 
 
 Gormley (genially): Well, what can I do for you, 
 gentlemen? Here, have a cigar. 
 
 Reporter: Thank you. Are you not a member of 
 
 i6 
 
the Charity organization of St. Lawrence parish — the 
 chairman of the Ways and Means Committee, in fact? 
 
 GoRMLEY : I have that honor. 
 
 Reporter : Just what do you hope to achieve by 
 erecting that new home for the worthy poor? 
 
 GoRMLEY (piously): Why, the comfort of the desti- 
 tute, first and last. I beHeve it is our duty to our fellows 
 to restore them to the better conditions, which they were 
 accustomed to, until poverty blighted their lives. I be- 
 lieve that God looks for this from us — expects us to make 
 restitution to the poor people for what the world has 
 deprived them of. I try to do my duty as a Christian. 
 I think the cause a very worthy one. 
 
 Reporter: You have endowed the new institution, 
 have you not, Mr. Gormley; and is it not to be known 
 by your name? 
 
 Gormley: Yes, I have endowed it and, I believe, 
 it is to bear my name. 
 
 (Enter Jordan.) 
 
 Reporters : Thank you, Mr. Gormley. 
 
 Gormley: That's all right, gentlemen; call any time 
 you wish. I'm always at your service. (Bows; exeunt 
 reporters.) Well, Jordan? 
 
 Jordan : A letter for you. I did not open it — it's 
 marked "Private" very emphatically. (Hands Gormley 
 letter. Gormley takes letter, examines exterior specu- 
 latively; finally opens it and reads it. It flutters from his 
 fingers to the floor. He falls forward, supporting himself 
 by his hands on his desk. Jordan notices him after about 
 a minute and rushes over to him.) 
 
 Jordan : Are you sick, Mr. Gormley ? Shall I call 
 in Dr. Forbes? (Gormley recovers by great effort after 
 about half a minute.) 
 
 Gormley: I'm going home, Jordan; call the car. 
 ril wait till I get home to see the doctor. (Jordan helps 
 Gormley on with his coat, then leads him out. Stenog- 
 rapher returns, sees note; picks it up and peruses it. 
 Jordan re-enters.) 
 
 17 
 
Jordan : Did you see anything of a letter, Marston? 
 
 Marston : Is this it ? 
 
 Jordan (crossing to him): Yes; Mr. Gormley be- 
 came so sick after reading it he had to go home. 
 
 Marston : vSick ? There is nothing here to make 
 him sick. Why listen: "Dear Sir — Mr. Francis Clinton 
 died this morning. He has entrusted to me a certain 
 paper, which is of great interest and concern to you, with 
 instructions to deliver it to you as soon as you fulfill 
 certain conditions. Yours, Grahame Talbot." Nothing 
 in that to make him sick. 
 
 Jordan : Well, he became sick very suddenly, any- 
 way. File it away. I'm going over to Mr. Taylor's 
 office. (Exeunt.) 
 
 Scene 2. Library of Gormley home. 
 Time — about 11 :30 o'clock at night. 
 
 (Gormley, alone, smoking cigar. Paces around room, 
 glances nervously out of window; is startled by a 
 noise from left. Drops into a chair, picks up a book 
 and makes a vain attempt to read it. Finally he is 
 rewarded by noise at window; goes to window and 
 whispers with some one. Admits them himself by 
 front door. The whole house is asleep. Enter 
 Gormley, leading two men, well dressed.) 
 Gormley: Now, speak low whatever you do. We 
 don't want to wake anyone. (Goes to doors L. and C. R. 
 and listens carefully. Returns. Tries to conceal his dis- 
 gust for them and his shame at the whole affair.) Well, 
 did you get the paper ? 
 
 Howard : We ransacked his room at the hotel thor- 
 oughly, and we could not find it. We are convinced that 
 he has it on his person. We have another plan, though, 
 but it will cost you more, because we run a greater risk. 
 Gormley (apprehensively) : Don't use violence. I 
 don't want to become involved in a murder trial. We 
 
 i8 
 
must not kill him, except as a last resort. No — don't use 
 violence. 
 
 Howard : No violence at all, sir ; no commotion ; no 
 clue. Everything done without the police getting wind 
 of it at all. And we get that paper. 
 
 GoRMLEY (unconsciously raising his voice and half 
 rising from his chair): But how, man? How are you 
 going to do it? (Glancing around fearfully and instinc- 
 tively lowering his voice): Do it and I'll make it worth 
 your while. 
 
 Howard: We'll shadow him until we get an oppor- 
 tunity ; and then — the poisoned needle. It's the work of an 
 instant — a quick jab in the back through overcoat and 
 all ; he is drugged immediately and we carry him off and 
 secure the paper at our leisure. It's very simple. 
 
 GoRM LEY (anxiously) : Yes ; but isn't there any fear, 
 any danger, that is, any possibility of killing him. Think 
 of the disgrace ; and I don't want to ha-hang. 
 
 Howard : Not the least danger. We'll see to that — 
 never fear. 
 
 Gormley : Well, go ahead — do it. I must have that 
 paper. I can't deprive my wife and daughter of the com- 
 fort they have always been used to. Restitution? Bosh ! 
 I have already made restitution by all my charities. I 
 don't owe Fortin's wife and child anything. (The two 
 thieves have been exchanging meaning looks during this 
 talk. Gormley suddenly remembers their presence — 
 realises that he has been talking too freely.) You are, of 
 course, to bring me the paper sealed and then I will pay 
 you the rest; and (Fixing them sternly with his eyes) it 
 goes without saying that you are not to mention to any- 
 one what has passed between us, or — anything I may 
 have said tonight. That is part of our agreement, and it 
 is only on these terms I hire you. (Thieves gravely nod 
 acquiescence while Gormley is looking at them, but ex- 
 change meaning glances and nods as soon as he turns 
 his back.) All right ; let me know when you have a good 
 chance. (Noise as of window rattling.) Hurry, gentle- 
 
 19 
 
men; let us break up the meeting. But wait here until 
 I see if any of the servants are stirring. (Exit.) 
 
 Morgan (when Gormley has gone): Give him the 
 paper sealed, indeed! (Laughs unpleasantly.) 
 
 Howard: Forget what he said tonight! Yes. Cer- 
 tainly we have a fine hold on the old Croesus. We*ll 
 bleed him nicely. Give him the paper ! Just think of all 
 the money it is worth to us. The old fellow dreads dis- 
 grace, you know, and if we had it — well, we might expose 
 it to some people if he did not yield to our demands. 
 (Chuckles softly.) 
 
 Morgan : Great idea ! But here he comes. (Gorm- 
 ley appears in doorway.) 
 
 Gormley: Come on, gentlemen. Not a word now. 
 (Exeunt on tiptoes amid profound silence.) 
 
 Scene 3. Night. Dimly lighted street. 
 
 (A few people hurry along street. Enter thieves.) 
 
 Howard : He passed this way not a good hour ago, 
 and back this way he'll sure return. 
 
 Morgan : Where shall we wait ? 
 
 Howard : I have found a hiding place. As he comes 
 along we'll walk down the street in advance of him, but 
 more slowly than he. Then you accidently jostle him 
 and I'll use the needle. 
 
 Morgan : We'll carry him off to your place of con- 
 cealment then and the rest will be easy. But what about 
 the paper ? Are you going to give it to Gormley ? 
 
 Howard: Give it to him? I should say not. With 
 that paper in our possession Mr. John Gormley will be- 
 come our banker. I rather inferred from the remarks he 
 let slip that he would not want the contents of that docu- 
 ment exposed. 
 
 Morgan : Yes, yes ; I know. But we won't get the 
 rest of our money until we give him the paper, and — 
 
 Howard: We'll give him a paper, all right, but it 
 
 20 
 
won't be the paper, and if I know— Hush, here comes 
 some one. (Exeunt stealthily.) 
 
 Stanley: Do I know Mr. John Gormley, you ask? 
 Why, certainly, any one that's anybody at all in this city 
 knows him, and let me assure you that he's a man worth 
 knowing. Never have I met a more perfect gentleman, 
 nor a more generally respectable man. It's impossible 
 to tell all the good that man has done by his philanthropic 
 work. He is universally esteemed. 
 
 Talbot: So I hear everywhere. I have never met 
 him myself, but I hope to have that pleasure in the near 
 future. I assure you I am not a little curious about 
 meeting a man so generally lauded. 
 
 Stanley: Your curiosity will be amply satisfied. 
 You can trust him implicitly in any business enterprise 
 or dealing you may have with him. Would that more of 
 our wealthy people had his honesty and then so much 
 of our society would not be built upon a rotten foun- 
 dation. (Talbot makes as if to remonstrate, but Stanley 
 stops him.) O, some of them become honest enough and 
 outwardly respectable after they have accumulated 
 wealth, but the hitch is with the start — they build on a 
 smouldering volcano which is liable to explode any time. 
 Crime will out, you know. You'll meet a rare man when 
 you encounter Gormley — "a man far less for wealth than 
 probity renowned." 
 
 Talbot : I hope so. 
 
 Stanley : Well, I really must be getting on home. 
 Are you coming in my direction ? 
 
 Talbot: No; the other way is shorter for me. 
 (Shakes hands. Part.) 
 
 (Exit Stanley right, Talbot left. Sounds of scuffling 
 on left exit. Re-enter Talbot running; pauses, looks 
 about in confusion; feels breast pocket. Hastens off 
 stage. Enter two thieves.) 
 
 Howard : Where is he ? Where did he go ? 
 
 Morgan : He's gone. We can't catch him. W^hat 
 was the matter? 
 
 21 
 
Howard : The needle broke. 
 
 Morgan : Well, we'll have to try again, 
 
 Howard: O, he'll be on his guard after this. But 
 we'll see what we can get out of Gormley anyway. That 
 respectable man — did you hear them say that ? ha, ha ! — 
 won't want us to expose him. 
 
 Morgan : Well, come on ; we have no time to lose 
 here. That fellow is liable to return with help. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 Scene 4. Club. 
 
 (Five or six members discovered at rise sitting about 
 talking.) 
 
 First Club Member: Well, how are stocks and 
 bonds today, Thompson? 
 
 Second Club Member : Very bad, very bad. Not 
 a stir in them at all. 
 
 Third Club Member : Did you attend that musical 
 at the Adonis last night? 
 
 First Club Member: Yes; the music was very fine. 
 I had a delightful sleep. 
 
 Second Club Member (stretching): Heigh-ho. This 
 is a dull world. (Silence for two or three minutes.) 
 
 Fourth Club Member: Say, who is that oldish man 
 that comes in here every night and gees over there by 
 the window and reads his paper without talking to any- 
 one? 
 
 Fifth Club Member : Do you mean that man that 
 just nods at us and never speaks? 
 
 Fourth Club Member : Yes ; that's the one. 
 
 First Club Member (sitting up and beginning to 
 take notice): Why, good gracious, you don't mean to 
 say that you have been in this city two months and that 
 you don't know him. That's John Gormley, the million- 
 aire — "Honest John" his friends call him. It's his proud 
 
 22 
 
record that he never wronged anyone. He surely is 
 looked up to as the perfect model of honesty and up- 
 rightness. In fact, his friends say that when the modem 
 Diogenes came upon Gormley he gave up his search, 
 satisfied at last. He's famous from the Atlantic seaboard 
 to the Pacific as the greatest charity worker in this con- 
 tinent. Institutions in all the large cities of the union 
 stand as monuments to his philanthropy. He's the great 
 man of the Church to which he belongs. And you never 
 heard of him? That's queer. 
 
 Sixth Club Member: Speaking of Gormley, I 
 wonder what has come over him. He used to be the 
 j oiliest sort of a fellow. 
 
 Fifth Club Member: I think it's business that's 
 worrying him. I understand that he has lost heavily of 
 late in the pit. Then, too, that latest institution he en- 
 dowed must have cost him a pretty penny. 
 
 Second Club Member : Do you know% I think he 
 never recovered from the loss of his boy, Alfred. When 
 the three other children died he bore the loss well 
 enough, but he knew their fate. It's the uncertainty that 
 wore him down in this other instance. Just think ; not to 
 know whether his son is dead or alive ! 
 
 Third Club Member: O, the boy's dead — that's 
 certain. If he were not Gormley would have heard about 
 it in these twenty-two years. I don't believe it's the boy 
 he's worrying about, though he did take the boy's loss 
 hard. But have you noticed how gray and haggard he 
 has become in the last month and a half or two months ? 
 Why, Gormley is a young man ; yet, look at him — there 
 he is now. (Enter Gormley, nods to them.) 
 
 First Club Member: Well, I have an engagement. 
 
 Third Club Member: So have we. Come on, 
 Thompson, and the rest of you, or we'll be too late. 
 Sorry to leave you, Howard, with only Gormley for com- 
 pany ; but I hope you have a pleasant time. 
 
 Fourth Club Member: Don't worry; I'll manage 
 
 somehow\ (Exeunt.) 
 
 23 
 
(Howard reads for a few minutes, then strolls over 
 and engages Gormley in conversation.) 
 
 Howard, Fourth Club Member: Mr. Gormley? 
 
 Gormley (looks up): I am Gormley. (Terrified, 
 glancing about.) Sir, why do you approach me here? 
 
 Howard: To tell you that we failed. The needle 
 broke against a button. He recognized us and we must 
 leave the city. Where is our money? 
 
 Gormley: Your money, sir? You have not fulfilled 
 your part of the contract. Such knavery! You'll not 
 get a cent from me. 
 
 Howard: See here, Mr. Honest John Gormley, I 
 have no time to waste. Either you pay us or we'll expose 
 you to the entire community. How would you like that, 
 Mr. Paragon of Honesty, Mr. Pillar of the Church? 
 
 Gormley: Hush, hush! Here. (Turns over money.) 
 Now go away, for goodness sake, and never let me see 
 you again. I wish I had never met you at all. (Exit 
 Gormley.) 
 
 Howard : Good-bye, Mr. Honest John Gormley. 
 Good-bye, Mr. Honesty. (Laughs. Exit.) 
 
 24 
 
ACT III, 
 
 THE CONFESSION. 
 
 Scene 1. Library of Gormley's Home. 
 
 (Enter Gormley and a stranger.) 
 
 Gormley: Please be seated, Mr. Talbot. I received 
 your note this morning. Do you smoke ? (Offers cigars.) 
 
 Talbot: Thank you. (Selects cigar and puts it in 
 his pocket.) I have made several ineffectual attempts to 
 see you, but somehow I always failed. Now that I have 
 succeeded in finding you I'm at a loss to know just how 
 to begin. You understand this is a very peculiar com- 
 munication Mr. Clinton asked me to make. You see he 
 was wasting away slowly and he sent for me, said he 
 knew me, in fact, although I did not know him. He 
 made me promise to see you, and if you deposited one- 
 half million dollars to the credit of a certain Mrs. Helen 
 Fortin in the First National Bank within one month I 
 was to turn over to you a certain paper which he has 
 entrusted to me; but if you did not comply with his 
 behest I was to surrender the document to a competent 
 lawyer and accept his advice on how to proceed in the 
 matter. I guess that's about all. It is not such an easy 
 thing to coolly ask a man to part with half a million. 
 
 Gormley: O, that's all right — no offense at all, I 
 assure you. The paper has to do with a patent which 
 we worked on together. He wants to protect his sister, 
 so that's why he sent you here with it. (Glances at Tal- 
 bot to see how he receives these lies.) Poor Frank was 
 slightly insane, you know. (Aside): I wish he had been. 
 
 25 
 
Talbot: O, is that so? I did not know. 
 
 GoRMLEY (gathering courage from Talbot's igno- 
 rance): Yes, it was too bad, too bad. I suppose, of 
 course, you have the paper with you so that we could 
 finish the business this evening. (Eyes Talbot narrowly,) 
 
 Talbot (frankly) : Yes, sir, I have ; and I should be 
 very glad to get through with this strange affair. 
 
 Gormley: Well, I don't know about tonight. How- 
 ever — (Enter Terence.) Well, Terence? 
 
 Terence: A gintleman is waiting in the hall to sae 
 you, sor. I tould him you were busy, but he insists he 
 must sae you. He said his name is Mr. Howard. 
 
 Gormley (in confusion, aside: I cannot let Talbot 
 see him.) All right, Terence, you may show Mr. Talbot 
 into the sitting room and bring in Mr. Howard. (To 
 Talbot): You will excuse me, please, Mr. Talbot; the 
 interruption is unavoidable, but it won't be long. (Exit 
 Terence and Talbot.) 
 
 (Pause. Enter Terence and Howard, right. Exit 
 Terence.) 
 
 Gormley (angrily, yet in a low voice): Well, sir, 
 what are you doing here? The last time I saw you — 
 which was only yesterday, by the way — you were think- 
 ing of going west — for your health. 
 
 Howard (impudently) : Was I, now? Well, isn't 
 that nice ? The fact is I am still thinking of going west ; 
 but Morgan and I discussed the matter and we have 
 decided that we needed more money, which you shall 
 supply. 
 
 Gormley: Never! Never! You have blackmailed 
 me enough. I'll never pay you another cent. 
 
 Howard (smiling, but threatening) : We knew that 
 you would never miss the money, especially as you have 
 such an excellent reputation to take its place, Mr. Hon- 
 esty. (Laughs.) Mr. Honesty. 
 
 Gormley : Keep quiet. 
 
 Howard (very loudly) : Why should I keep quiet ? 
 26 
 
GoRMLEY (terrified at first, then attempting to bluff): 
 Because, sir — do you know who is in there? 
 
 Howard (very loudly and insolently) : Who? An- 
 other honest man? 
 
 GoRMLEY : The man you tried to kill. Shall I call 
 him out here? He'll be very glad to see you. 
 
 Howard (perceptibly terrified; arises and moves to- 
 ward door. Tries to assume a nonchalant air. Speaks 
 low): I don't care if you do. He'll also be very glad 
 to learn the part you had in the attacks upon him. 
 
 GoRMLEY : Very well. (Steps into sitting room and 
 coils): Mr. Talbot, I'm very sorry to have kept you 
 waiting. (Howard flees.) 
 
 Talbot : Such things will happen. I appreciate your 
 position. But let us get through with that affair of 
 Clinton. 
 
 GoRMLEY (looking at his watch): Whew! I never 
 realized that it was so late. It's impossible to sign all 
 the papers and make all the necessary arrangements to- 
 night. We'll have to defer it until tomorrow. 
 
 Talbot: Well, I suppose, if there's no alternative — 
 
 (Thunder. Gormley strides over, opens window and 
 looks out.) 
 
 Gormley : Gracious, man, it's teeming. It's raining 
 oceans. You can never reach your hotel in such a storm 
 as this. It's fortunate our guest chamber is unoccupied. 
 Stay here tonight. (Talbot walks over to window.) 
 
 Talbot: Say, it is storming, isn't it? Well, thank 
 you for your hospitality, Mr. Gormley; I'll be only too 
 glad to accept your offer. 
 
 Gormley: I'll show you to your room myself. Right 
 this way, Talbot. (Exeunt.) 
 
 Scene 2. About two o'clock the next morning. 
 
 Gormley (muttering): Now I can do it. He's sleep- 
 ing now. I'll have that paper. Opportunity knocks only 
 
 27 
 
once and this is my opportunity. (Moves to Talbot's 
 bedroom door and listens. Returns to library table, opens 
 drawer, takes out revolver, "breaks" it, examines car- 
 tridges and snaps it shut. Moves toward Talbot's room 
 with revolver in hand. Just as he reaches bedroom door 
 enter Mrs. Gormley.) 
 
 Mrs. Gormley: John! John! What are you doing? 
 (Gormley starts nervously and attempts to conceal re- 
 volver.) 
 
 Gormley : Nothing, nothing at all, Lucile. How is 
 it you are not in bed ? 
 
 Mrs. Gormley (coming over and taking his hands) : 
 O, dear, I cannot sleep. I have had such terrible dreams. 
 (Her hand comes in contact with revolver; she draws 
 it back quickly.) John, what have you there? (Horri- 
 fied.) What are you going to do? 
 
 Gormley : See here, Lucile, be sensible. Go to bed. 
 The man in that room has a paper — a business paper 
 which is vitally important to me. I'm going to get it. 
 Unless I get it I am ruined. Now go to bed, dear, and 
 don't worry. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley: But, John, you wouldn't steal it, 
 would you? Even though it is important, you wouldn't 
 take it like (Gulps), like a common thief ! 
 
 Gormley (reassuringly): Steal? Why, certainly 
 not. It belongs to me rightfully, dear. This man did not 
 come by it honestly. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley: But why don't you get possession 
 of it legally then, John? O, I don't like this, John. 
 Even if the paper is yours, it seems so dishonorable to 
 take it like this. 
 
 Gormley: You don't understand, Lucile. I can't 
 call upon the law to help me. If I do, my enemies will 
 slander me. And my business affairs are in such a 
 critical condition just now that, if they injure my repu- 
 tation, I'm ruined. Come, dear, you go to bed now. It 
 won't take me long. (Takes her by arm and leads her 
 towards door, right.) 
 
 3^ 
 
Mrs. Gormley: But, John, when the gentleman 
 awakes and discovers the loss of the paper he will brand 
 you a thief and you will be ruined anyhow. Come, John, 
 don't do it. (Catches hold of him.) 
 
 Gormley (impatiently; jerks away): See here, 
 Lucile, you are worrying yourself unnecessarily. Trust 
 me to attend to that. An open window with a broken 
 lock, a few articles thrown around in confusion, a hue 
 and cry in the morning about burglary, and everything 
 is explained. (Pause.) If he awakes — 
 
 Mrs. Gormley: What if he awakes? (In a scarcely 
 audible whisper.) 
 
 Gormley : Come, come, Lucile^ — 
 
 Mrs. Gormley: O, John, could you be so dishonor- 
 able? Please leave the matter to the law and trust to 
 God. 
 
 Gormley (turning away): O, you women don't 
 understand these business matters. You don't realize 
 the tactics we are forced to use in business. I know you 
 mean well, but you should confine yourself to the home 
 and leave me to look after these business details. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley (passionately): That may be, John, 
 but we do know the difference between right and wrong, 
 between what is base and what is noble. Besides, if he 
 awakes you will be disgraced. 
 
 Gormley: Yes, it's all right to talk of honor and 
 justice, but do you think that I can stand calmly by and 
 see you and Patricia pauperized? See you freeze and 
 starve like common beggars ? For all my fabled millions, 
 I haven't a half million dollars tonight. I tell you this 
 charity work has cost me dear. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley : Honor, indeed ! Yes, honor, John. 
 Don't think of us, or, rather don't always leave us with 
 the thought that we have been the cause of your sin. O, 
 rather a thousand times cold and hunger than dishonor 
 and sin. Besides, John, if he wakes — 
 
 Gormley (his jaws set and his eyes glittering): If 
 he wakes — (picking up gun and fondling it) — well, it 
 would be better for him if he had not. 
 
 29 
 
Mrs. Gormley (utters a piercing shriek and falls on 
 her knees before him. Gormley draws back): O, John, 
 John, don't say that! You a murderer? O, John, you 
 didn't mean that. You wouldn't do that, John. Think 
 of your mother and of Patricia. And think of Ally, 
 John — golden-haired little Ally up in Heaven praying 
 for you, John. This is Ally's birthday, John, our sweet 
 little Ally — Ally our first-bom, our best loved. O, John, 
 you didn't mean that ! (Gormley stoops over and picks 
 her up; his frame heaves with unuttered sobs.) 
 
 Gormley: Ally? Where's Ally, Lucile? 
 
 Mrs. Gormley (comfortingly): In heaven, John — 
 praying for us. Come, John, you're sick. 
 
 Gormley (sadly): You're right, Lucile. I'm sick 
 with a sickness of the soul. May God forgive me. (She 
 put arms around him and comforts him.) Pray for me, 
 Ally, I'll tell you in the morning, Lucile. I can't do it 
 now. (Exit Gormley with his head resting on his wife's 
 shoulder.) 
 
 Scene 3. Next morning. Back parlor of Gormley home. 
 
 (Enter Patricia Gormley, sits down at piano, plays 
 and sings. Enter Talbot unobserved, from left, 
 when she has finished the song.) 
 
 Talbot : Good morning, miss. I beg pardon for the 
 intrusion. (Patricia is startled at strange voice.) 
 
 Talbot : I did not mean to frighten you. I am your 
 father's guest. Is Mr. Gormley up yet? 
 
 Patricia : My father is ill this morning and will 
 not be able to see you. However, if my mother — 
 
 Talbot: No, never mind, do not bother. I'm very 
 sorry to learn that your father is ill. We can defer the 
 matter, though. We can attend to this business when- 
 ever your father's health improves. And now I will be 
 very much your debtor if you will kindly convey my 
 expression of regret at his illness to Mr. Gormley. 
 
 30 
 
Patricia (rings servant's bell J : I shall do as you 
 request. 
 
 (Enter Andrew.) Good morning. 
 (Both bow. Exeunt Talbot and Andrew.) 
 (Patricia walks over to table; picks up picture and 
 examines it for a few minutes.) 
 
 Patricia (putting photograph down at last): O, it 
 can't be. It's impossible. It's a mere resemblance. What 
 makes me think so ? Only this is his birthday. (Returns 
 to piano and plays aimlessly for a few seconds. Enter 
 Terence.) 
 
 Patricia : Terence. 
 
 Terence : Yes, miss. 
 
 Patricia : Do you remember what Alfred looked 
 like? You know I was very small when he — when he 
 went away. 
 
 Terence : Small ! I should say you were, Miss 
 Patricia — just a wee little toddler, hardly able to play 
 with Ally, as you called him. Do I remember what he 
 looked like? I should say I do. 
 
 Patricia : Does that picture (pointing to photo) 
 look like him, Terence? 
 
 Terence (surprised, taking picture): Yis; why? 
 
 Patricia : You know today is his birthday, Terence? 
 
 Terence : So it is ; so it is. 
 
 Patricia : Do you think you would know Alfred 
 now if you were to see him grown up? 
 
 Terence (startled) : Yis, I think I would ; but why ? 
 
 Patricia (choking with sobs): O, Terence, what 
 do you think has become of Ally? 
 
 Terence (anxiously): Here now, Miss Patricia, 
 don't be afhter throubling your poor little heart nadelessly. 
 Masther Alfred is all right. 
 
 Andrew : Please, miss, your mother would like to 
 see you in the parlor. (Exit Patricia.) 
 
 Andrew : This is a queer house — Mr. Gormley sick, 
 the missis sobbing till her heart's fit to break, and now 
 
 3' 
 
Miss Patricia on the verge of tears. This is a strange 
 house. (Pause.) Well, if that isn't the queerest — here 
 this is the young master's birthday and I never thought 
 of it. No wonder they are all feeling badly. 
 
 Terence (sharply. Sniffs suspiciously and draws 
 hand surreptitiously across his eyes): Hould your 
 tongue, you ould gossip. 
 
 Andrew : Well, isn't our Irish royalty very high and 
 mighty for himself this morning? (Pause; looks at 
 Terence unbelieving.) Terence O'Donovan, it is pos- 
 sible — crying like a woman? 
 
 Terence (wroth at being caught displaying emotion) : 
 If you don't get out of here, you good for nothing bog- 
 trotter, I'll throw you out bodily. How dare you pry 
 into the business of your betters? 
 
 Andrew : Betters, indeed ! Just the same I saw 
 Master Alfred today — that is, either him or his ghost 
 grown up. (Moves to door; head just sticking in room.) 
 
 Terence: Saw Masther Alfred? Where? Where? 
 
 Andrew : That's just what I'm not going to tell you, 
 King Brian. You threatened to throw me out so I had 
 better be going. (Exit Andrevf.) 
 
 Terence: Come here, Andrew. Come back here. 
 (Starts to go after him, but stops.) But it can't be. 
 Masther Alfred's been gone twenty-two years. It can't 
 be. (Exit.) 
 
 Scene 4. Back parlor of Gormley home. 
 
 (Gormley and Mrs. Gormley discovered at rise.) 
 
 Gormley: It was a lie I told you about that paper, 
 Lucile. My whole life has been a lie to you, dear — a lie, 
 a terrible lie. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley (holding up her hands): Don't, John. 
 
 Gormley: I must tell you — in justice to you and 
 Patricia. (Pause.) I shall start at the beginning. Be- 
 fore I met you, dear — just after I had left college, in 
 
 3^ 
 
fact — Frank Clinton and I struck out for the Klondike, 
 determined to get wealth and get it quickly, too. Five 
 months we dug, and mined, and washed the gravel, and 
 labored — five months such as I have never experienced 
 since, and such as, please God, I shall never know again. 
 Starvation, cold and death threatened us every minute. 
 Then, one evening when we were particularly down- 
 hearted, I was on guard. I heard a noise in Fortin's 
 cabin. Fortin was one of the men with whom that 
 country had dealt kindly. I hastened there just as a 
 man stole out with two heavy sacks. We grappled; I 
 conquered and in the moonlight on the frozen earth I 
 saw the face of my own friend, Frank Clinton. Friend- 
 ship and Temptation conspired against me — I oflfered 
 him his freedom for half of his loot. He accepted and we 
 left the camp that night. But as we were going I heard 
 a baby cry — Fortin's little baby girl. O, Lucile, that cry 
 has haunted me all my life ; and Fortin's wife awoke and 
 saw her murdered husband and fainted. We each signed 
 a paper admitting our part in the crime and each took 
 a copy. This was the paper Talbot had. We separated. 
 (Pause.) Then I met you, and I have lived a lie to you 
 all my life. I have deceived the whole world, pretending 
 to be what I was not. I have spent fortunes in charity 
 and have advertised myself from coast to coast as a con- 
 tributor to charity. I have been known as a representa- 
 tive member of the Church. My friends have named me 
 "Honest." You have thought me the soul of honor. But 
 it's all a sham, a miserable sham. What a hypocrite I 
 am ! I have deceived priest, wife, family, friends, world, 
 all — O, how I loathe myself ! My life is wasted, gone in 
 deception, and my pride would never let me repay my 
 stolen wealth and acknowledge my guilt. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley (putting her arm about his neck) : No, 
 John, your life is not wasted. We can begin again, dear, 
 — ^you and I and Patricia. We'll help you, dear. It's 
 not too late. But you must return the money, dear. 
 
 Gormley: Can you forgive me, Lucile, after I have 
 wronged you so deeply? I tried to deceive myself into 
 believing that I was sparing you and Patricia ; but now 
 
 33 
 
I realize it was my own self I was saving — my own repu- 
 tation and pride. Can you forgive me, Lucile? 
 
 Mrs. Gormley : It is not for me to forgive you, John. 
 You must look to Another, but He will surely forgive. 
 And now we must prepare to start again. Today's a 
 good day. It's little Ally's birthday, John. 
 
 Gormley: Yes, I know. I could have borne his loss 
 better, Lucile, only I always thought that God took him 
 from me in punishment for my sin. Yes, it's a good 
 day to start over. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley : But first you must return the money. 
 Then we can plan for the future. We will leave this 
 city, and Patricia and I can work, if need be, to help 
 you retrieve the past. 
 
 Gormley (kissing her and standing up): You're 
 right, Lucile. I'll wash my hands of all this hypocrisy; 
 and, if it's not too late yet, with the help of God I'll 
 retrieve the past. Though I lose the title "Honest" before 
 the world, yet I become more honest than I was while 
 I possessed it. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley: Go now, John, I'll pray for God to 
 give you strength. Good-bye, dear. (Exeunt.) 
 
 34 
 
ACT IV. 
 
 Scene 1. Gormley's office. 
 
 (Gormley discovered at desk working. Enter Mr. 
 Mar St on.) 
 
 Marston : Good-morning Mr. Gormley. 
 
 Gormley: Good-morning (Pause.) By the way, 
 
 Marston, I won't need you this morning. If Taylor or 
 
 Harding can't use you, you can take a vacation today. 
 
 Marston (surprised) : Thank you, Mr. Gormley. 
 
 Thank you very much. (Exit R.) 
 
 (Gormley works. Enter Jordan C. D. Bows. Gorm- 
 ley nods in return.) 
 Gormley: After you have finished with my mail, 
 Jordan, you can go over to Taylor's office. There is a 
 gentleman coming to see me on business this morning, 
 and under no circumstances must I be disturbed. Tell 
 the boy that if anyone calls for me, he is to send them 
 to Mr. Taylor. You can give Taylor whatever informa- 
 tion he will need. 
 
 (Exit Jordan R. Gormley arises and begins to walk 
 up and down, looks at watch, goes over and shuffles 
 papers on desk, takes a drink, glances at watch. En- 
 ter office boy R.) 
 Office Boy: The gentleman is here, sir. (Gives 
 Gormley a card.) There's a lady with him. 
 
 Gormley (agitatedly) : A lady ? What did he bring a 
 lady along for? 
 
 Office Boy : I don't know, sir. 
 Gormley: I will see the gentleman. (Exit office 
 boy.) 
 
 33 
 
(Gormley goes to his desk and sits down. His fore- 
 head is wrinkled in perplexity. ' Enter Talbot and 
 woman. Gormley frowns.) 
 
 Talbot : Good morning, Mr. Gormley. 
 
 GoRM LEY : Good morning, sir. 
 
 Talbot: I have taken the liberty of bringing my 
 wife along. Mr. Gormley, my wife. 
 
 Gormley: Good morning, Mrs. Talbot. 
 
 Talbot: Formerly Miss Geraldine Fortin — one time 
 of Alaska. 
 
 Gormley: Miss? Miss? Did you say Fortin? 
 
 Talbot: I did, sir; but you need not be alarmed. 
 Everything has been forgiven. I know the history of 
 this paper. (Produces large sealed envelope.) Clinton 
 told me all that night, he was almost dying when he sent 
 for me. 
 
 Gormley (pays no attention to Talbot. Looks dumb- 
 founded at his wife. Arises, comes around to where she 
 is. She arises. Gormley stares into her face intently): 
 It is she. It is she — (Pause) Girl, is your mother still 
 alive? 
 
 Mrs. Talbot : Alive, sir, and well. (Pause.) 
 
 Talbot : Come, Mr. Gormley, don't take it so hard. 
 Anyone would have been liable to commit such a crime — 
 just think of the temptation, and then you were young. 
 Besides, as I understand from Clinton, you were stray- 
 ing and freezing. You were only human. No one can 
 blame you. 
 
 Gormley : Stop, young man. It's false — false as any 
 falsehood the Prince of Falsehoods ever invented. Don't 
 try to make it easier for me. I have fed myself for the 
 last thirty years on such sugary lies. I have downed 
 my conscience, pleading extenuating circumstances — my 
 youth, my condition. But I tell you it's all false. I can- 
 died over the sour truth with sweet, pleasant lies and I 
 tried to think that the taste was good, but I tell you 
 it tastes bitter, bitter, bitter. I argued with myself that, 
 if our positions had been reversed, Fortin might have 
 
 36 
 
done the same to me. I tried to lull my inner feelings 
 with the sop that after all I had not actually committed 
 the crime, but had only saved a friend in need and had 
 only taken some of the money which he would have 
 squandered anyway. But it's false (Voice rises). I tell 
 you, it's false. I blamed my surroundings; I blamed 
 anything and everything but the right thing. I even 
 reasoned how much more good the money could do a 
 young man, such as I, than one who had seen the best 
 part of his life already. O, I'm weary of it. (Silence 
 for a minute or two.) 
 
 Mrs. Talbot: Don't be so hard on yourself, Mr. 
 Gormley. Father has forgiven you by now, I know. 
 You have shown a proper disposition. I know mother 
 and I forgave you Ibng ago. 
 
 Gormley: Hard on myself? Don't fear. I've spared 
 myself long enough. I've pampered my vanity and my 
 selfishness long enough. I've served my pride too long- 
 When I could have made restitution, I didn't do it on 
 account of my accursed pride. I was afraid the news 
 might leak out, and that I might lose my reputation for 
 honesty. O what hypocrites we are. Clinton was right : 
 men such as I are the ruin of society. (Pause.) Well 
 let us to business. Here, Talbot, is the receipt showing 
 the deposit. (Gormley receives envelope, after he hands 
 over receipt. Pause. Turns to Mrs. Talbot.) And now, 
 goodbye, and if you can in so far forgive one who has 
 worked so much harm to your family I ask you to some- 
 times remember in your prayers the man who sinned and 
 is going to try to amend. Goodbye. (Turns away.) 
 
 Mrs. Talbot : Goodbye, sir. I will remember. I 
 wish you well. 
 
 Gormley (to Talbot): You, sir, I can only thank 
 for your kindness and consideration in dealing with me. 
 I had a son once — he would have been about your age, 
 if he had lived — and so I would have wished him to 
 deal with others in my place; but I thank God that he 
 is not left to bear his father's shame and disgrace. And 
 now, goodbye; and forget that you ever knew John 
 Gormley. 
 
 .?7 
 
Scene 2. Back parlor Gormley home. 
 
 (Patricia Gormley discovered at piano. Song: "O Say 
 does not a meeting like this make amends/' Moore. 
 Enter Terence during song. Tidies things up. Pat- 
 ricia turns to him after song.) 
 
 Patricia: Good morning, Terence. 
 
 Terence: The top o' the mornin' to you, Miss. 
 That's a beautiful song you played, Miss. Shure, it's you 
 that has a fine taste when it comes to music. 
 
 Patricia (playfully): O, I think you're giving me 
 some of your Irish blarney. 
 
 Terence: Nothing of the kind, Miss. The Irish 
 never do that. (Makes a grimace.) 
 
 Patricia (becoming grave) : Do you know why I was 
 playing that air, Terence? I was thinking of Alfred 
 (Very short pause.) You know I thought I saw him 
 yesterday. 
 
 Terence: Thought you saw him yesterday? 
 
 Patricia : Yes ; yesterday was his birthday, you 
 know. 
 
 Terence: Yes; but here he's never been heard from 
 these twenty-two years. Miss — dead, most likely. But 
 now that you mintion it, I remimber Andrew said the 
 same thing to me yesterday. Of course no one pays 
 any attintion to Andrew — at laste, no one with iny 
 sinse does. Is the whole house going crazy? 
 
 Patricia: What makes you think that he's dead, 
 Terence ? 
 
 Terence : Why, Miss, we have never gotten trace or 
 tiding of him all the time he's been gone, and, with all 
 the money your father spent and the detectives he hired 
 and the people he had interested in the affair, we surely 
 ought to have learned something about him if he were 
 alive. 
 
 Patricia: That's true. But I thought I saw him. 
 
 (Enter Mrs. Gormley.) 
 $9 
 
Mrs. Gormley : Good morning, Terence. 
 
 Terence : Top o' the morin' to you, ma'am. (Leav- 
 ing room. Exit L.) 
 
 Mrs. Gormley: I have some news for you, Patricia. 
 
 Patricia (evincing interest) : O, mama, what is it ? 
 Is it about ? Is it bad news? 
 
 Mrs. Gormley (gravely): It isn't good, dear. Your 
 father's financial condition has changed for the worse. 
 In short, we'll have to give up our home and all that 
 we've been accustomed to. In fact, we are going to 
 move to another city. 
 
 Patricia: We'll be all right, mama. There are 
 many other people who are in no better circumstances. 
 Poor daddy— how does he take it? Can I help him? 
 
 Mrs. Gormley : Yes, dear, we both can help him to 
 bear the shock by being brave. He must discontinue 
 all his charity work, too. O, how I wish your brother 
 was living now to help him stem the current. 
 
 Patricia : I can help and I will help. I can teach 
 music, give painting lessons, teach elocution. I can do 
 anything to help daddy. 
 
 (Re-enter Terence.) 
 
 Terence: A gintleman to see Mr. Gormley about 
 some charity work. I tould him Mr. Gormley is sick ; 
 and now he wants to see you, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley (sighing. To Patricia): Well, I sup- 
 pose it had to come sometime. I might as well begin now 
 to notify them that your father will have to give up his 
 charity work. (Exit R. Pause.) 
 
 Terence: Oi've been questioning Andrew, Miss; 
 but I can't lame anything from him. One minute he's 
 sure it was Masther Alfred, and the next instant he 
 don't know but it might have been only a resimblance. 
 
 Patricia: I would not bother about it, Terence. 
 I was mistaken. It's improbable— impossible. It was 
 only a great resemblance, as Andrew said. (Pause.) 
 Poor daddy. Is he in the library now, Terence? 
 
 Terence : Yes, Miss. (Exit C. D. Enter Gormley L.} 
 3P 
 
Gormley: Terence, I want you to pay off all the 
 old servants for me, and tell them that I can't keep them 
 any longer. Vm a ruined man. Thank them for their 
 long and faithful service to my family and bid them 
 farewell for me. I can't see them myself. 
 
 Terence : Begging your pardon, sor, I want to tell 
 you that Oi'll stay with your family as long as one of 
 you is alive, pay or no pay ; and I know the rest of them 
 fale the same way. So please, sor, don't talk about bid- 
 ding farewells, sor. 
 
 Gormley : Listen to me, Terence ; and don't make 
 this severing of old ties harder for me than necessary. I 
 must leave this home, go to another city and start life 
 anew. We'll be very poor, and won't be able to afford 
 even a single servant. 
 
 Terence: What if you can't, sor.^ Will you be any 
 the worse man if you are poor? We'll all go along and 
 help you to begin again. So don't say anything more 
 of parting. Miss Patricia is looking for you in the 
 library, sor. (Exeunt, C. D.) 
 
 Scene 3. Back parlor of Gormley home. 
 
 (Enter Terence with woman heavily veiled. A 
 
 younger woman, veiled, and a man with overcoat up 
 
 around his face and hat drawn down go to enter, hut 
 
 she tells them to wait outside.) 
 
 Terence: Plaze wait here. Mr. Gormley will be in 
 
 in a minute. (She seats heself R. C.) (Exit Terence.) 
 
 (Enter Gormley.) 
 
 •Gormley: Did you wish to see me? 
 Mrs. Fortin : Are you John Gormley ? 
 Gormley : I am. Whom have I the pleasure of ad- 
 dressing? (She raises her veil. He studies her face for 
 a few seconds; then steps back.) Tom Fortin's wife ! 
 Mrs. Fortin : The same ; and I came to thank you. 
 Gormley: To thank me? For what can you thank 
 40 
 
me? Is it possible that you can enter the house of the 
 man who liberated your husband's murderer and stole 
 the money which rightfully belonged to you and your 
 child? Thank me? You can only curse me. But now 
 that you are here, I will make a clean breast of it all. 
 I didn't kill your husband. That's the first thing. What- 
 ever rag of comfort I have in these times comes from 
 the knowledge that I am free from that crime, at least. 
 But there my innocence ends. I stole your money, I 
 kept you and your baby in want and suffering, and I have 
 lived a lie. I foisted myself off upon my wife, my chil- 
 dren, my friends, my Church, the world, as the perfect 
 type of honesty and Christian charity. I have deceived 
 everyone, but God; and I know now that I favled to 
 deceive myself, though I thought at the time I had suc- 
 ceeded. (Mrs. Fortin makes as if to interrupt him, but 
 he stops her.) Don't interrupt me now. Let me finish. 
 I must tell you to the end. There were many times I 
 could have returned the money, but I was afraid that 
 the world would learn of my guilt, and I would lose my 
 good reputation. So instead I turned to charity and 
 built homes for the poor and the infirm, but, Pharisee 
 that I was, I placarded it all over with my own name, 
 so that men would see, and approve and know how good 
 I was. And I rejoiced when all the papers hailed me as 
 the greatest friend of Humanity in the century. (She 
 goes to interrupt him again.) Don't be misled into im- 
 agining that I did this even now of my own free will. 
 I did my best to get possession of that document Clinton 
 confided to the care of your son-in-law, and I failed. 
 I paid the penalty of crime only because I had to. I con- 
 fided in my wife and she induced me to make restitu- 
 tion. I resisted paying you with all my might; and I 
 tried to convince myself that it was my wife and child 
 I was sparing, but it was myself — and my selfish pride. 
 I don't ask your forgiveness — that is impossible. (Enter 
 Mrs. Gormley.) Here is the woman — the best woman 
 that ever lived, not excepting my own mother — the 
 woman that rescued me from my crime — ^my wife. 
 (Mrs. Fortin and Mrs. Gormley how.) 
 
 41 
 
Mrs. Fortin: Forgive you, John Gormley? I have 
 forgiven you long ago ; but I also need forgiveness. You 
 are not the only one who has sinned. I also have some- 
 thing to confess. I knew that you had shared in my 
 husband's stolen wealth, and I followed you slowly from 
 state to state. (Enter Patricia.) I had lost track of 
 your accomplice. I wanted revenge, but I could not 
 appeal to the law, because I had no evidence against 
 you, so I struck at you through your family. I stole 
 your son. 
 
 Mr. Gormley i ah ^ wru • u 
 ,, ^ I Ally? Where is he. 
 
 Mrs. Gormley/ 
 
 Mrs. Fortin : Yes, your Alfred. I intended to hold 
 him for ransom, but was afraid of being apprehended if 
 I made overtures for ramsom. A relative took care 
 of him for me. He is here. Alfred! (Enter Alfred 
 Gormley, alias Grahame Talbot.) 
 
 Mrs. Gormley : Alfred. 
 
 Alfred: Mother. (They embrace.) Enter Ger- 
 aldine Fortin and Terence quietly.) 
 
 Alfred : Father ! 
 
 Mr. Gormley : Son, I am unworthy to be called your 
 father. (They shake hands.) And you are the son-in- 
 law of the woman I robbed? And to think I tried to 
 kill you with my own hand. What strange tricks Fate 
 plays upon us. 
 
 Terence: (moving around): Shure it's Masther 
 Alfred, shure enough, only grown up. Many's the time 
 Oi've carried you about on my back and played horsie 
 with you, lad. 
 
 (Mrs. Gormley crying for joy. Patricia trying to 
 comfort her. Alfred talking to her, arm around her.) 
 
 Mrs. Fortin: Can you forgive me? 
 
 Gormley: Forgive? I have nothing to forgive. God 
 has been good to me far beyond my deserts. He has 
 turned my life from false to true. He has changed my 
 house of sand to one of stone. 
 
 (Mrs. Fortin and Gormley in center shaking hands; 
 4» 
 
Mrs. Gormley sobbing quietly on sofa (i) with Pat- 
 ricia on far side of her and Alfred near back with an 
 arm about her. Geraldine Fortin and Terence on 
 right.) 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 43 
 
rw^'wmmm 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 CONGRESS