PR 6025 
 fll2 T5 
 1913 
 Copy 1 
 
13, SIMON STREET 
 
13, SIMON STREET 
 
 A PLAY IN ONE ACT 
 
 By 
 
 ANTHONY P. WHARTON /1/-<i^^^ 
 
 Copyright, 191 3, by Samuel French, Ltd 
 
 New York 
 SAMUEL FRENCH 
 
 Publisher 
 28-30 WEST 38TH STREET 
 
 London 
 SAMUEL FRENCH, LTD 
 
 26 Southampton Street 
 STRAND 
 
hi3 
 
 CLD 33707 
 
13, SIMON STREET 
 
 Produced at the Vaudeville Theatre, London, on 
 Thursday, May i, 1913, with the following cast : — 
 
 William Lassen . . 
 John Rutt , . 
 Cecil Henry Carter 
 Miss Raeburn. . . 
 
 Mr. George Desmond. 
 Mr. Douglas Munro. 
 Mr. Ronald Squires. 
 Miss Hilda Trevelyan, 
 
The fee for each and every representation of this play by 
 Amateurs is one guinea, payable in advance to the sole agents 
 of the Amateur rights of representation : — 
 
 Messrs. Samuel French, Ltd., 
 
 26, Southampton Street, 
 
 Strand, London. 
 
 or their authorized representatives. - 
 
 No performance may be given unless a written permission has 
 first been obtained. 
 
13, SIMON STREET 
 
 The scene represents a hack room on the second floor 
 of a tenement house in Simon Street, Whitechapel ; 
 a dingy, squalid apartment, without carpet, furnished 
 in the most meagre and primitive way — a deal 
 table, a disreputable bedstead, a wash-hand stand with 
 a dilapidated jug and basin, a chair, a stool,a packing- 
 case {which docs duty as larder and as 'seat), a small 
 cracked mirror suspended from a nail : some odd 
 culinary utensils. About the room are seedy frag- 
 ments of masculine attire : before the fire hangs a 
 pair of trousers, bedraggled and steaming ; towards 
 the front of the room are a formidable pair of boots, 
 caked with dry mud. 
 
 At the back is a small ii)indoiv. 
 
 At the left is a door leading to the staircase. At the 
 right is a door leading to a smaller adjoining room. 
 
 The room is illuminated by firelight and the light of 
 two candles, inserted in the necks of beer-bottles. 
 There is darkness outside. 
 
 The time is about five o'clock on the afternoon of a day 
 in the February of the present year. 
 
 At Uie table William Lassen is dining. He is a smal I 
 monkey-like man of about forty, unshaven, unclean 
 and generally unprepossessing. His clothes are 
 grimy and greasy ; his neck is encircled by a dirty 
 handkerchief. The muddy boots are evidently his 
 property : his feet are for the moment encased in thick, 
 7 
 
8 13, SIMON STREET 
 
 coarse stockings. At his elbow is a mutilated loaf : 
 in one of his hands is a large chunk of bread ; in 
 the other a clasp-knife. As he consumes each mouth- 
 ful he spreads another ^ portion of the chunk with 
 cheese. He eats noisily and voraciously, but with 
 distracted eyes : sometimes he glances at a news- 
 paper which has fallen to the ground at his feet, 
 sometimes at trhe steaming trousers, sometimes at 
 the muddy boots. As he looks at the boots an idea 
 strikes him. His jaws pause in their labour, he 
 places the unfinished chink and the knife on the 
 table, rises and goes over to the door leading to the 
 smaller room, and is about to knock at it : he checks 
 himself, however, and, crossing to the door leading to 
 the staircase, satisfies himself that it is locked [from 
 the inside)'. He then returns towards the other door, 
 turns aside to pick up the fallen newspaper, which 
 he first drops into the packijig-case, then secretes, 
 on manifest second thoughts, in his pocket ; finally 
 knocks at tJie door leading to the other room, at first 
 gently, then as he receives no response, a second time, 
 more loudly. 
 
 Carter (from the adjoining room, sleepily). Yes ? 
 What is it ? Half a moment ! 
 
 After a moment the door opens and Carter appears ; 
 a good-looking, tall, slight, still somewhat boyish 
 young man of about thirty, gently-bred, and with 
 considerable charm, of manner and,, appearance, 
 despite the obvious fact that his linen is several days 
 old.) 
 
 Carter. Yes ? 
 
 Lassen. Ow. 'Ope I ain't disturbed you. Was 
 you writin' ? 
 
 Carter [ivhose manner, despite an attempt to 
 appear at ease, is suggestive of considerable anxiety ; 
 he is a little muddled, a little indistinct of speech — 
 just sufficiently so to reveal the fact that he has been 
 
13, SIMON STREET 9 
 
 drinking rather more than is good for him). ' Yes. I 
 was— ah— writing. Can. I do anything for you ? 
 
 Lassen {who has been scrutinizing him closely), 
 Ow. I thought you was asleep. I 'ad to knock a 
 second time. (He pauses. As Carter makes no 
 reply.) It's hke this. I just thought as 'ow you 
 might hke your boots cleaned. I was just goin' to do 
 me own, so I says to meself, p'raps 'e'd hke 'is done too. 
 
 Carter (hesitatingly). Oh, thanks— well— I 
 — reaUy, I scarcely hke to impose upon your good- 
 nature. 
 
 Lassen (before Carter has finished). Qw, it's no 
 trouble. Wown't take me a minute. 'Ave you got 
 any shppers to put on while I'm doin' the boots ? 
 
 Carter. Well, no, I haven't. 
 
 Lassen. Never mind. Just you shp 'em off. 
 I shan't be 'arf a mo'. 
 
 Carter. Well— thank you very much. It's very 
 good of you. 
 
 Lassen (with a derisive grin, at Carter's hack). 
 Not at all. (As Carter seats himself and begins to 
 unlace his smart but somewhat besmirched footgear.) 
 S'pose you ain't never wore a pair o' boots as dirty 
 as that afore, did you ? 
 
 Carter (smiling slightly). Except at footer. 
 
 Lassen (interested). Ow ! you plays football, 
 does you ? 
 
 Carter (evasive). Yes. 
 
 Lassen. Where ? 
 
 Carter (evasive). Where ? Oh, several places. 
 
 Lassen. Ow. An' you write books, you say. 
 (A pause.) Books about the East End and the lower 
 clawsses, you write ? 
 
 Carter (evasive). That's it. (In a business-like 
 tone.) I say ! How do the posts go in this neigh- 
 bourhood ? 
 
 Lassen (attentive). Powsts ? (After a pause 
 stolidly.) Cawn't say. Same's other plaices, I 
 s'pose. W'y ? 
 
10 13, SIMON STREET 
 
 Carter (endeavouring not to betray over-anxiety) . 
 Well — I expect a letter — and it may possibly come 
 by this afternoon's post — if that hasn't gone already. 
 You don't know, you say ? 
 
 Lassen. Now. I never writes letters an' I never 
 gets 'em. (.4 pause.) Now I com.es to think of it, I 
 don't believe as 'ow I ever 'ave see a powstman in 
 Simon Street. (.4 pause.) Now. Don't believe 
 as 'ow I 'ave. 
 
 Carter (forcedly play fid). No such things as bills 
 around here ? 
 
 Lassen. Bills ? Now. There ain't no credit in 
 Simon Street (.4 pause.) W'y ? I thought as 'ow 
 you told me as 'ow you'd come 'ere to get away from 
 — from things o' that kind ? 
 
 Carter (rather sharply). Things of what kind ? 
 ^ Lassen. Letters — an' things like that. Thought 
 you v/anted to be quite to yourself — so's you could do 
 your book-writin'. 
 
 Carter (standing up). Oh, yes, yes — but you see, 
 I expect this one letter — and — well — I want you to 
 look out for it for me. It will be addressed to J. 
 Wynne — (spelling.) W^-Y-N-N-E — V/ynne. Do you 
 think you'll remember that ? 
 
 Lassen. Ow yes. Fll remember that all right. 
 Address of J. Wynne. I'll remember. 
 
 Carter. Perhaps you'd. be good enough to make 
 some inquiries about the "posts, would you ? By 
 the way — this is a tenement house, you told me. I'd 
 forgotten that. To whom would a postman deliver 
 letters addressed to this house ? 
 
 Lassen (stolidly). Down't know, I'm sure. I 
 never was a powstman. 
 
 Carter (visibly struck by the man's manner : after a 
 dubious glance at his inscrutable face). Well — 
 (hesitating.) — look here ! (He takes a half-sovereign 
 from, his pocket and holds it out to Lassen.) If a letter 
 is delivered at this house addressed to J. V/ynne — 
 you see that it's brought to me. 
 
13, SIMON STREET 11 
 
 Lassen (making no motion to accept the coin, looking 
 at Carter attentively, faintly insolently). W'y cawn't 
 you gow an' see abaht it yourself ? 
 
 Carter. I'm offering you half-a-sovereign to do 
 the job for me. 
 
 Lassen Ow. Are you ? Well, wot I says is this. 
 If that letter's worth 'arf a quid to you — an' you're — 
 say you're too busy writin' books abaht the lower 
 clawsses to look after it yourself — well 
 
 Carter (impatiently). ¥/ell — what then ? 
 
 Lassen. \Vell, w'y, then it's worth a 'ole quid, I 
 say. 
 
 Carter. Oh, I see ! (He substitutes a sovereign 
 for the half-sovereign.) There. See about it. 
 
 Lassen (grinning as he pockets the coin). I'll see 
 abaht it. 
 
 Carter (going towards the door leading to the other 
 room). Thank you. 
 
 Lassen (distorting his face in a grimace of derisive 
 contempt behind Carter's back). Down't mention it. 
 
 Carter (turning towards Lassen again, putting his 
 hand into his trousers pocket). Oh ! there's another 
 thing I want you to do for me. Do you think you 
 could buy me some collars ? 
 
 Lassen. Collars ? 
 
 Carter (handing him some more money). Yes. 
 Half a dozen. This kind. (Indicating his own.) 
 Sixteen by two-and-a-quarter. 
 
 (There is a knock at the door leading from the stairs.. 
 Carter starts and instinctively retreats towards 
 the smaller room.) 
 
 Carter. Who's that ? 
 
 Lassen (who has noted his nervousness attentively). 
 Wot you so scared abaht (Sloidy turning his head 
 towards the door, shouting.) 'Oo's that ? 
 
 RuTT (outside). Me. Jack. 
 
 Lassen. Ow. Arf a mo'. (To Carter.) It's 
 
12 13, SIMON STREET 
 
 ownly a friend o' mine. You needn't be afraid. 
 
 Carter (nervously snappish). Afraid 
 
 Lassen. That's wot I said — afraid. (A pause. 
 Significantly, as Carter gazes at him iincertainly). 
 'E's my friend. You can trust 'im same's you can 
 trust me. O' course, if you'd rather not 'ave any one 
 
 know as 'ow you're 'ere (He pauses, then, 
 
 rising, approaches Carter niih a menacing leer on his 
 face.) 
 
 Carter (hastily). Well, yes — I'd rather they 
 didn't. Don't forget about the letter — and the 
 collars 
 
 Lassen (grinning). Now. 
 
 RuTT (outside). W'y the 'ell down't you open the 
 door ? 
 
 Lassen (shouting). All right. 
 
 {He nods to Carter, zi'ho disappears h.urriedly into 
 the adjoining room, locking the door beJiind him. 
 Lassen i&atches his exit with an unpleasant grin, 
 then crosses the room, unlocks the other door and 
 admits John Rutt. Rutt is a power fully -built 
 and sinister-looking rivfflan of about thirty, dressed 
 like a navvy, decorated with a recently- acquired 
 black eye, and for the moment plainly in evil humour.) 
 
 Rutt. Wot the bloomin' 'eU's up ? W'y couldn't 
 you owpen the bloomin' door wen you 'eard me 
 knockin' ? 
 
 Lassen. Ow, shut your row. W'y didn't you 
 come long agow, that's wot I want to know. 'Ere 
 I've been waitin' for the lawst three hours for you. 
 'Oo give you that eye ? 
 
 Rutt (surlily, but plainly somewhat afraid of the 
 skialler but stronger spirit). Never you mind. Wot 
 d'you want ? 
 
 Lassen. Not you, if you cawn't keep a civil tongue 
 in your 'ed. D'y' 'ear ? 
 
 Rutt (sullenly). I 'ear. 
 
13, SIMON STREET 13 
 
 Lassen. Well, then — 'eed. {He leaves the door, 
 which he had closed, but, in his irritation, has forgotten 
 to lock, and comes towards the table, followed slowly 
 by RuTT. Turning to look at Rutt menacingly once 
 more.) If you down't — one o' these fine days I'll 
 lose my temper an' get talkin' abaht you — and 
 p'raps sayin' too much, see ? You mind wot I'm 
 tellin' you. (Angrily seating himself at the table, 
 and indicating the stool to Rutt, who has been about 
 to seat himself on the packing case.) 'Ere. Sit there, 
 I down't want o 'ave to shout at you. First of all, 
 did you gow to the 'Orse an 'Ounds ? 
 
 Rutt {surlily). Yes. 
 
 Lassen. Well ? 
 
 Rutt. I awsked 'em same's you said in your mes- 
 sage, if you'd been in there lawst night. They said 
 you 'ad. I said, 'Oo with ? They said, by yourself. 
 I awsked wot time did you go away. They didn't 
 know. Said they didn't nowtice you gowin' out. 
 
 Lassen. 'Oo'd y' awsk ? 
 
 Rutt. The boss an' the potboy an' the gal — all of 
 em. 
 
 Lassen [pleased). That's all right. {He glances 
 towards the door of the adjoining roc m, rises, approaches 
 it softly, listens for a moment, then returns to the table.) 
 Yes. I was in the 'Orse an 'Ounds lawst night. 
 Were were you ? Collectin' black eyes, I suppowse. 
 {Lowering his tone). Now, look 'ere. There was a 
 chap there lawst night as every one must 'ave now- 
 ticed. A toff. Any of 'em say anything abaht 'im ? 
 
 Rutt. Yes, I 'card abaht 'im from the gal. Young 
 chap in light clothes with a small handbag— spoke 
 to nowone ownly the gal. 
 
 Lassen. That's 'im. 
 
 Rutt [staring). W'y. Wot abaht 'im ? Did 
 you ? 
 
 Lassen [with a ferocious grin). Not yet. Now. 
 But I 'appened to be waitin' outside the 'Orse an^ 
 'Otmds w'en 'e came out, an' I passed 'im the time o' 
 
14 13, SIIION STREET 
 
 night — an' — well — we 'ad a mowst interestin' con- 
 versation. See ? 'E towld me as 'ow 'e was writin' 
 a book abaht the East End, an' wanted to find a 
 room in some nice, quiet, respectable 'ouse abaht 'ere, 
 w^ere 'e could stay an' write it — with a nice view o' the 
 lower clawsses out o' the window\ See ? 
 
 RuTT. Gow on. (interesied.) . , 
 
 Lassen. Well, of course. I knew the very room 
 'e wanted — quiet, respectable, chawming view. {He 
 jerks his head toiz^ards tJ:e door of the adjoining room.) 
 There it^^as, waitin' for 'im. An' there 'e is, at this 
 moment — writin' books as 'appy an as quiet as can 
 be. I clown 't think. 
 
 RuTT (after a pause, during zchich tJiey stare at one 
 another fi::edly). Any stuff on 'im ? 
 
 Lassen. That's just it, ole bloke. I know as 'ow 
 'e's got some on 'im. (A pause). If 'e's the man I 
 takes 'im for, 'e's got owver twelve 'undred on 'im — 
 stiff. 
 
 KvTT (staggered). Twelve — twelve. (In a ic his per 
 that is almost a squeal) — ycnderd ? On 'im ? 
 
 Lassen (taking the Tiewspaper from hris pocket). 
 'Ere. Look at this. (He holds the paper 171 his hand 
 for some moments, without unfolding it.) You see, I 
 got thinkin' abaht 'im.. I nowticed as 'ow the chap 
 was nervous an' excited like — lookin' abaht 'im — 
 very particular abaht the other people in the 'ouse — 
 wot kind were they — did they come into my room 
 — an' all that. So, lawst night, after 'e'd gone in 
 there (nodding towards the other room) I got thinkin' 
 abaht the thing, an' I made up my mind that it 
 might be worth while 'avin' a look at the pipers for 
 th lawst few da3/s. Sec ? 
 
 RuTT. Well ? 
 
 Lassen. V/ell — I did. Soon's as I could get any- 
 one to go an' bu}/ 'em for me. This is wot I finds. 
 'Ere, 'ave a look at this. (Opening the newspaper.) 
 See that photograph ? 
 
 RuTT. Yes. 
 
13, SIMON STREET • 15 
 
 Lassen. This is wot is wrote undernoath. 
 {Reading.) " Cecil 'Enery Carter, Messrs. E. and G. 
 Wright's crshier, 'oo 'as b:en missing since Friday 
 la\^st. A fAim of over twelve 'underd pounds, repre- 
 sentin' the week's wages of the firm's employes is 
 unaccounted for." (A pause.) An' the reason w'y 
 it's unaccounted for is 'cause it's in a 'andbag in the 
 two-pair back o' Thirteen Simon Street, Vv'liite- 
 chapel, along o' Mister 'Enery Cecil Carter. (Sig- 
 nificantly.) Wot now one, as I believes, knows ex- 
 cept 'im {laitJ: a jerl: towards the other room) — an' mc — 
 an' you^an' p'raps one other person. 
 
 RuTT (wlio has eyed him attentively, now nodding 
 from the plictogyaph to tJie door). It's like 'im ? 
 
 Lassen. It is 'im. 
 
 RuTT [ajic:' a pause). Waiges, it says. That'd be 
 cash ? 
 
 Lassen. Yes, 'underd to one. 
 
 RuTT [aftjy anotlie-^ pause) . 'Go's the other person ? 
 
 Lassen. That's just it. I down't know abaht 'er. 
 Lawst night oxter 'e came 'ere, 'e wrowte a letter as 'e 
 give me to powst. Miss Raeburn was the naimx on it. 
 
 RuTT. Miss v/ot ? 
 
 Lassen. Miss Raeburn. I didn't nowtice the 
 rest, because I 'adn't got tiiinkin' abaht things then. 
 
 RuTT. You powsted it, then, did you ? 
 
 Lassen. Yes, hke a juggins. You see, 'e kidded 
 me right at first with his yarn abaht 'im writin' books. 
 Writin' books! 'E's been fuddhn' 'isself with 
 w'iskey all clay, that's the book 'e's v/ritin'. I see 
 'im buyin' it in the 'Orse an 'Ottrds lawst night, an' 
 stickin' it in thj 'an'bag.. 
 
 RuTT. Tryin' to keep up 'is coura.ge, is 'e ? (Grin- 
 ning.) 
 
 Lassen. Yes. That's the sort 'e is. No use. 
 Soft. 'E Vs^own't be much trouble. (A pause. 
 Lowering his voice again.) 'E's expectin' a letter 
 this arternoon — under the naime o' Wynne. Sow 'e 
 tould mx just novv^ 
 
16 13, SIMON STREET • 
 
 RuTT. That'll be an awnser to the one wot you 
 powsted for 'im lawst night, eh ? 
 
 Lassen. Til take the hberty o' openin' it, any'ow, 
 to see. We've got to be certain abaht that letter, 
 Jack. 'Ooever is to write it knows as (with a nod 
 towards the other room) 'e's 'ere. You see ? 
 
 RuTT. That's right. Trust you for a 'ed, Bill. 
 
 Lassen (grinning). I down't think. Lve got 'is 
 boots. More 'ed. 
 
 RuTT. Took 'em — or awsked for 'em ? 
 
 Lassen (with a wink). Suggested as 'ow I might 
 clean 'em for 'im. 'E 'as nothing else for 'is poor feet, 
 neither. (Putting down the hoots, which he had taken 
 up for a moment as he spoke ; again significantly.) 
 Now, first thing we've got to get 'old o' this letter wot 
 'e's expectin'. We cawn't do anythin' until we've got 
 that — not safely. If it's from this Miss Raeburn, 
 
 w'y 
 
 (There is a knock at the door leading from the stairs. 
 
 Both men turn their heads.) 
 
 Lassen. P'raps that's the postman. Gow an' un- 
 lock the door. 
 
 (There is another knock.) 
 
 Lassen (shouting). All right. Down't be in such 
 a 'urry. 
 
 (As RuTT rises, the door opens and before either of the 
 astonished men can move, Miss Raeburn has entered 
 the room.. She advances a few steps, then stops,- a 
 charming apparition, arrayed in handsome furs, 
 young, healthy, and serene of manner, hut unmis- 
 takahly resolute and strong-willed ; without the 
 least affectation of dignity, formidahly dignified ; 
 the gracious woman that retaineth honour.) 
 
 Lassen. Wot the 
 
 (Both men rise ahruptly. Lassen advances a few 
 steps towards Miss Raeburn.) 
 
13, SIMON STREET 17 
 
 Miss Raeburn (glancing about her, then, with a 
 winning smile at the two men). Please forgive me for 
 disturbing you — but perhaps you may be able to 
 assist me. I am looking for a gentleman who is 
 staying here, in this house. A Mr. ¥/ynn€. Do you 
 happen to know which is his room ? 
 
 Lassen. Wot naime did you say, miss ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Mr. Wynne. 
 
 Lassen (meditatively). Mister Wynne ? Now. 
 
 Miss Raeburn (turning to Rutt). Perhaps you 
 may know 
 
 Rutt. Now. 
 
 Lassen. Down't believe as 'ow I ever 'eard the 
 naime o' Wynne afore. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Mr. Wynne is young and tdll 
 ^nd fair. That may help. Rather good-looking. 
 
 Lassen. Young and good-lookin'. Now. There's 
 tiow one young an' good-lookin' in this 'ouse. 
 
 Miss Raeburn (who has been watching his face 
 closely, as if suspecting reticence. Calmly, almost 
 thoughtfully). Except you — and — this othe^ gentle- 
 man. 
 
 Lassen . (grmwmg). Yes, that's it. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Who lives in the rooms above 
 these ? 
 
 Lassen. Now one. Two families wot did live 
 there wos took to the 'orsepital lawst week Diph- 
 theria they 'ad. There's now one Hvin' there now. 
 'Cept microwbes. 
 
 Miss Raeburn (whose eyes have fastened themselves 
 on Carter's boots, absently). Indeed ? (Advancing 
 towards the boots.) How funny ! Those are just the 
 kind of boots the gentleman I am looking for always 
 wears. 
 
 (She glances quickly from Lassen's stockinged feet to 
 Rutt's hobnails, then to Carter's boots again, then 
 to Lassen's mud-caked pair which stand near the 
 packing-case ; finally to Lassen's inscrutable face.) 
 
 B 
 
18 13. SIMON STREET 
 
 Miss Raeburn. How funny i 
 
 (Lassen glances across at Rutt, u^ko has at once rken 
 again and intercepted Miss Raeburn 's retreat to the 
 stairs. Lassen diverts him with a gesture, and he 
 returns slowly to the table.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn (^fter a pause). You're quite sure 
 you can't tell me where I shall find Mr. Wynne ? 
 
 Lassen (obviously making up his mind, approaching 
 her) . Might I taike the liberty o' inquirin' your naime, 
 Miss ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. I am Miss Raeburn. 
 Lassen [exchanging a look with Rutt). Ow. Miss 
 Raeburn. (A pause.) An' this Mr. Wynne is a great 
 friend o' yours, I dessay ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Oh, yes. Lm quite sure he would 
 be glad to see me. 
 
 Lassen. 'Course 'e would ; yes. Well, now, 'ere. 
 I cawn't say as 'ow I mightn't be able to find 'im, or I 
 cawn't say as 'ow I might. But, seein' as 'ow you're 
 sow anxious-like — Lll try wot I can do. 'Ow's 
 that ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. I shall be very grateful to you 
 indeed. 
 
 Lassen. Ow, don't- talk abaht it. Look 'ere, 
 miss — you just wite 'arf a mo' aht there on that 
 landin' — w'ile I 'ave a word with my mite 'ere, will 
 you ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Of course. Certainly. {She goes 
 towards the door.) 
 
 Lassen (accompanying her). Just 'arf a mo'. 
 You may leave the door owpen. (To Rutt.) Put 
 them boots against it, Jack, will you ? 
 
 Ri|TT. Which ? These ? (Picking up Lassen's 
 hoots, he uses them to prop, the door leading to the stairs 
 open.) 
 
 Lassen. That's it. (To Miss Raeburn, con- 
 fidentially.) If you 'ears any one comin' up them 
 stairs, miss — you just nip in 'ere — see — quick. 
 
13, SIMON STREET 1^ 
 
 (Still more confidentially.) We downt wantto'ave 
 'quisitive fowlk awskin' wot brings a laidy like yqii 
 to a 'owse like this, does we ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. I don't see that it matters — 
 However, I shall do as you ask. 
 
 {She goes out on to the landing, where she is invisible 
 to the audience, hut visible to any one in the further 
 portion of the room. Lassen comes forward' so 
 that he is invisible to any one standing on the landing^ 
 and intimates by a gesture that Rutt is to follow him, 
 RuTT, after a dubious glance at the landing, does. so, 
 
 Rutt {in an angry undertone). Wot's the gp-ime ? 
 Wot d'you let 'er aht o' the room for ? 
 
 Lassen. You shut your ugly faice. Lm lookin' 
 arter this. 
 
 Rutt (angrily). Ow, are you! An' Lm to do 
 wot you orders, am I ? I down't think. Now, 
 look 'ere — straight — this is 'arves or it's nothink,, 
 d'y' 'ear ? Mo more bloomin' monkey tricks. ' Arves 
 it is — or I go aht. 
 
 Lassen (angrily). Well, gow aht, you bleedin' 
 idiot. 
 
 Rutt. All right. But if I goes aht; I knows w'ere 
 the stright tip '11 find Inspector Yates. See ? I mean 
 it. You 'ad me for a mug lawst time. Not now more, 
 though — not now more, Bill. 
 
 Lassen. Ow, for Gawd's sake, quit ! You maike 
 me tired. Wot do you think as I'd 'ave to tal}c to 
 Inspector Yates abaht, eh ? Wot fabaht the Jew- 
 man ? Wot abaht Bessie PoUitt's fancy man ? 
 Wot abaht the chap as wos fahnd under the Canal 
 bridge on New Year's Eve ? Ow, chuck it ! 
 
 Rutt. I down't care. I've told you. (Fiercely.) 
 I'll swing for you, you httle twister — that '11 be the end 
 of it. Yes or no ? W'ich is it to be ? 
 
 Lassen [angrily, but giving way, plainly impressed 
 by the ferocity of the other). Shut it, will you ! (He 
 
20 13, SIMON STREET 
 
 strolls hack and, after a casual glance out to the landing 
 corned hack.) Yes. 'Course it's 'arves. 
 
 RuTT. All right, then- — but remember ! (Going 
 -close to him.) An' wot's more, you must do your own 
 share of it, Bill — Now shirkin' an' leavin' it to me, to 
 threaten me with it arterwards. See ? 
 
 Lassen. Ow, never you fear. I'll do my share. 
 Now, 'ere (with a nod towards the landing) is she 
 'is missus ? Wot do you think ? 
 
 RuTT. Either 'is missus, or gowin' to be, I'd say. 
 W'y? 
 
 Lassen. That's wot I thinks too. If sow, she's 
 pretty saife not to 'ave got gabbin' abaht w'ere she 
 wos gowin' to this arternoon, you see. But we've 
 got to be certain. She might 'ave some one waitin' 
 for 'er somew'ere abaht. We've got to 'ave a look 
 rahnd, see ? We'll get 'er back into the room, 'ave a 
 look rahnd, an' if it's all saife — w'y, the sooner it's 
 done 
 
 RuTT (looking towards ike smaller room). Wot's 'e 
 like ? Big ? 
 
 Lassen. Ow, big enough. No 'eart. Weshawn't 
 'ave any trouble with 'im, I tells you. 
 
 RuTT (looking towards the landing). She'll fight. 
 
 Lassen. I'll look arter 'er. It's got to be quick, 
 see. Soon's she comes back into the room, you get 
 to the door. Quiet, you know. Now fuss till we 
 makes certain. Then I'll interdooce Mr. W3mne — 
 and we'll leave 'em to bill and coo for a few minutes 
 w'ile we taike a stroll rahnd. You gow up towards 
 the canal. I'll gow dahn Heller' s Street and The 
 Lane. 
 
 RuTT (dubious). 'Ardly saife, is it ? 
 
 Lassen. Wot ? Leavin' 'em 'ere ? W'y not ? 
 The door will be locked. They may scream their 
 'earts aht afore any one '11 'eed 'em in this 'ouse. Ail' 
 I'll 'ave 'is boots. 'Sides, 'e doesn't want to gow aht. 
 'E's quite 'appy w'ere 'e is. 
 
 'RvTi -{unconvinced). I down't think it's saife. Bill. 
 
 Lassen. Yes, it is. 
 
13, SIMON STREET 21 
 
 RuTT. Wot abaht the winders ? 
 
 Lassen. Well, 'cept 'e wants 'is neck browke — 
 
 or 'as a aeroplane in 'is 'an' bag Ow, it's saife 
 
 a^ i'ouses. We're waistin' time. You'll want to 
 look abaht careful, mind. Any one as caime with 
 'er 'd wite in a shop or under a archway or some plaice 
 hke that. Down't be too long— but look careful. 
 I'll wite on the stairs if I'm back first. You clear 
 aht o' the room soon's I gives you the tip. Get 
 owver near the door now. ' 
 
 RuTT. It's not saife leavin' 'em, Bill. That's 
 \yot I says. 
 
 {■Unwillingly he moves a little towards the door. Lassen 
 picks up Ca'rter's boots and places them, with his 
 own, also near the door. He then goes towards the 
 door.) 
 Lassen (loudly). All right, miss. Come in. 
 
 (Miss Raeburn re-enters the room, looking steadily 
 at Lassen's face fron^ the moment of her entrance.) 
 
 Lassen (casually). Just shut that door, Jack. 
 
 (RuTT shuts and locks the door, then looks inquiringly 
 , at Lassen, who nods slightly. Rutt places himself 
 against the door and, producing a pipe, proceeds to 
 fill it by the aid of a clasp-knife and a lump of plug.) 
 
 • Lassen (to Miss Raeburn). We got to be careful, 
 you see, miss. Now, it's hke this. You says you re 
 Miss Raeburn, does you ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Yes. 
 
 Lassen. You down't 'appen to be Mrs. Wynne, 
 does you ? . 
 
 Miss Raeburn (smiling, but keeping her eyes always. ) 
 
 on his face). No. 
 
 Lassen. Ow. (Wheeling on her suddenly.) Not 
 Mrs. 'Enery Cecil Carter, by any chance, is you ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn (controlling herself) . No. (Smiling.) 
 
2'S 13, SIMON STREET 
 
 Not Mrs. anything, I am ashamed to say. Just plain 
 Miss Raeburn. 
 
 Lassen {who has watched her keenly, after a pause). 
 Ow. {To RuTT, significantly.) I say, Jack, down't 
 smoke that pipe 'ere w'ere the laidy is. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Oh, I don't mind in the least, I 
 assure you. 
 
 Lassen. Ow, a little fresh air '11 do 'im no 'arm. 
 
 Miss Raeburn {^with candour). Well, no — L 
 don't suppose it will. 
 
 (Lassen nods to Rutt, and crosses to the door. Run 
 goes out. Lassen relocks the door, slips the key 
 into his pocket and approaches Miss Raeburn 
 slowly.) 
 
 Lassen. If you wants to know w'ere your friend 
 Mr. Carter is — 'e's in there. In that room. {Indi- 
 catirig the adjoining room with a jerk of his head, watch- 
 ing her face closely.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Mr. Carter ? {Smiling.) But 
 I'm not looking for Mr. Carter. Lm looking for a 
 Mr. Wynne. 
 
 (Lassen stares at her for a moment in silence, with a 
 grin not devoid of admiration, then turns abruptly, 
 and crossing to the door of the adjoining room, knocks. 
 This time also lie is obliged to repeat the knock before 
 receiving a response. The door opens and Carter 
 appears in the aperture. He is now a Utile more 
 fuddled, a little thicker of speech.) 
 
 Carter {irritably). Well ? What is it ? Has 
 that letter come ? 
 
 (He does not at first perceive Miss Raeburn, who is in 
 the further portion of the room, near the window.) 
 
 Lassen. Now. But there's a Miss Raeburn 'ere 
 wot wants to see you. 
 
 Carter {incredulously). Here ? {Coming forward 
 
13, SIMON STREET 23 
 
 into the room and perceiving his visitor.) Good 
 heavens ! 
 
 Miss Raeburn (coolly, coming towards him, holding 
 out her hand with a smile). How do you do, Mr. 
 Wynne. Are you very shocked to see me here? 
 I feel quite improper. 
 
 Carter {taking her hand mechanically , visibly 
 embarrassed, hut striving to emulate her matter-of-fact 
 tone). Shocked ! Charmed, I assure you. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Really ? I wonder May I 
 
 go in there ? (Indicating the adjoining room.) Or 
 perhaps I might have a word with you here 
 
 Carter. Yes. Of course. Just a moment; 
 (Crossing to Lassen, who has been an attentive spectator 
 of their' meeting.) Have you been able to get those 
 things for me yet ? 
 
 Lassen. The collar^ ? Now . I was just gowin' 
 for 'em w'eh this laidy came in. Til gow an' fetch 
 'em now, shall I ? 
 
 Carter. Oh, thank you. Sixteen by two and a 
 quarter. 
 
 Lassen [unlocking the doov, and quietly inserting 
 the key on the other side). Sixteen by two and a 
 quarter. 
 
 Carter (to Miss Raeburn). Won't you sit down ? 
 (As he gets her a chair he perceives that Lassen has 
 picked up the two pairs of boots and is carrying them 
 out of the room. Going towards him hastily.) Yoii 
 might leave those boots of mine. 
 
 Lassen (halfway through the door). Shan't be a 
 moment. 
 
 Carter. But I tell you I want them. , ,.^_ ., ,, 
 
 Lassen. Shan't be a moment. , , , / 
 
 (He disappears, Carter, with a ruefvil expression on 
 his face, turns away from the door ' 'and tcfrhes back 
 towards Miss Raeburn.) ''/ ''■ 
 
 Carter. You must forgive the deficienc-i{ea of my 
 toilette. Ah — he's taken my boots. 
 
24 13, SIMON STREET 
 
 Miss Raeburn. So I see. (There is a pause.) 
 Don't fidget about — Sit down — I don't mind. 
 I wear stockings myself, you know. You got my 
 letter ? 
 
 Carter. No. Did you write to me, then, as well ? 
 (Seating himself.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Yes. This morning. When I 
 got your letter, I sat down on the spot and wrote to 
 you to tell you that I never wanted to see your face 
 again. As soon as I had posted it I got sorry — and in 
 the end— well, in the end — I am here. Don't read 
 that letter when it comes. Tear it up. 
 
 Carter. Very well. (A pause.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn (who has deen observing him as he 
 sits dejectedly, staring at the floor). You've been 
 drinking. Haven't you ? 
 
 Carter. No. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Oh, yes, you have. (Another 
 pause, during which she continues to regard him sorrow- 
 fully.) You wretched, wretched boy ! (She rises 
 and goes closer to him.) What on earth — what on 
 earth has happened to you ? 
 
 Carter (turning away from her impatiently). Oh, 
 don't preach to me. If that's all you've come here 
 for- 
 
 Miss Raeburn. I haven't the least intention of 
 preaching, I assure you. I came here because you 
 said you wanted to see me before you left the country 
 — Though I can no more understand why you should 
 want to see me, than I can understand why you 
 .should have got yourself into this awful trouble. 
 
 Carter. Oh — well — I've done it — I've done for 
 *niysdf. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Poor thing ! It's quite sorry 
 for itself, I do l^elieve. 
 
 Carter (biUerly). It's all your fault. You know 
 that. You know that as well as I do. 
 
 Miss Raebubn. Oh, don't be absurd. 
 
 Carter. It is. If you'd given me a chance two 
 
13, SIMON STREET 25 
 
 years ago — if you hadn't thrown me over — just be- 
 cause of that woman — I shouldn't be here now. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Well, Cecil, all I can say is this. 
 I don't want to seem hard or cruel— but there isn't a 
 night that I don't thank God on my knees that I did 
 throw you over. I suffered then— I can laugh now, 
 and you would laugh— at the agony of grief I worked 
 myself up to— because I really did love you then- 
 better than I shall ever love any one in this world 
 again— I know that. But— that's all done with— 
 I know the real you, you see, now. And so, I say, I 
 thank God every night that I had the sense, the 
 courage— to refuse to marry you. That's my view. 
 
 Carter (endeavouring to be pathetic). You mean 
 that, Helen ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Yes— in spite of the pathetic 
 expression in your eyes, I mean that. You never 
 loved me— really— even then. If you had, you would 
 never have entangled yourself with that unspeakable 
 woman. I'm not a saint or a prude. Heaven knows. 
 I have three brothers— and I know what boys are. 
 But— you were engaged to me. I was to have been 
 in a few weeks— your wife. And yet— you went 
 
 to her 
 
 Carter [with a shrug). It was your own tault. 
 
 If you hadn't insisted on posing as an iceberg ^ 
 
 Miss Raeburn [sharply). Now, please! What's 
 the use of going back to it ? And even if there were 
 the least excuse for Carrie, or MiUie, or whatever her 
 name was, nothing under heaven can account for this 
 last mad folly. You know that. Were you m 
 debt ? 
 
 Carter [wearily). Oh, yes. Up to the neck. 
 Miss Raeburn. Vv^hat ? Horses ? [She pauses. 
 He makes no reply.) Or more Carries and Milhes ? 
 
 (He makes no reply. Changing her tone.) Well 
 
 (She makes a little gesture of finality.) Have you 
 been here all the time ? 
 
 Carter. No. I've been chivying all over Londoji 
 
26 13, SIMON STREET 
 
 — Poplar, Greenwich, f Putney, Highgate — all over 
 the place. I only came here last night. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Do you know anything about 
 these men ? 
 
 Carter (quickly). Men ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. There was a second man in the 
 room when I came. 
 
 Carter. ._ Oh. Oh, yes. I remember now. My 
 host — the gentleman who was here just now — had a 
 visitor. No, I know nothing whatever about either 
 of them. Except that they're probably both bad 
 characters — like myself. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Why did you tell that man — 
 the one who was here — why did you tell him that 
 your name was Carter ? 
 
 Carter {in consternation). But — I didn't tell him. 
 
 Miss Raeburn {u'ith raised eyebrows). He knows. 
 
 (.4 pause.) 
 
 Carter. Are you sure ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Oh, yes. Quite. He asked me if 
 I were Mrs. Cecil Henry Carter — and^ven when I 
 refused to admit the soft impeachment— he still in- 
 sisted that it was Mr. Carter for whom I was really 
 looking — not Mr. Wynne. 
 
 Carter. Good Lord ! How — how the devil did 
 he find that out ? [He is visibly intensely dismayed. 
 He bites his finger nails nervously.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Are you certain that you didn't 
 — Were you drunk last night when you met him ? 
 
 Carter. No. No— — 
 
 [There is a pause.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Cecil. 
 
 Carter [who has begun to walk uneasily , about the 
 room). ' Yes,?. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Where is — where is that money ? 
 Carter [after a pause). I fi- there. In my bag. 
 
13, SIMON STREET 27 
 
 Miss Raeburn. How much is it — over twelve 
 hundred pounds, isn't it ? 
 
 Carter. Yes. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. And you have it all here — with 
 you — in there in that room ? 
 
 Carter. Yes. 
 
 (.4 pause.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn (bravely). Are you sure that that 
 man does not know that ? (She asks the question 
 with slow deliberation.) 
 
 (Carter, whose anxiety is growing visibly, stares at 
 her dubiously.) 
 
 Carter. I don't see how he could. He couldn't. 
 (As if for encouragement.) What ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. I'm not sure. I — I— I can't help 
 thinking that he does. Is it. Is it — gold or notes ? 
 
 Carter. Notes. 
 
 Miss Raebvrn. (after a pause). You know there's 
 a reward ? 
 
 Carter (anxiously). Is there ? No — I didn't 
 know that. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. There is. The police told Mr. 
 Edward Wright that — that the}/ thought it quite- 
 possible — ;with that large sum of money on you — that 
 — well, that something very serious might happen to 
 you. So he decided to offer a reward— a large one, 
 I beheve. 
 
 Carter. My God — then. My God — :that fel- 
 low may be gone to give information to the police 
 now. I — (After another vicious attack on his 
 finger nails.) I must get out of this — Hell ! 
 (As the idea strikes him.) That's why he took my 
 boots. No matter. (He disappears hastily into 
 the adjoining room.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn (rising). Where are you going ? 
 
 Carter (from inside). Out of this. 
 
 (She waits outside until he reappears. He does so in 
 
28 13, SIMON STREET 
 
 a moment or so, hat in hand, and carrying a small 
 
 bag.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn (who is unable to control an impulse 
 to laughter at his somewhat grotesque appearance). 
 Please forgive me. I know I shouldn't laugh. But 
 you look so funny. 
 
 Carter {irritably). Oh, funny. 
 
 [He moves quickly towards the door. She puts her- 
 self as quickly in his path.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn. No — no — Cecil — (as he pushes 
 her off, suspiciously and angrily) — no, you mustn't go. 
 I have something to say to you. Wait — just wait 
 a moment. 
 
 Carter (impatiently). M^at is it ? j 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Don't do anything foolish. 
 Don't lose your head. Just think. You know you 
 can't go out into the street hke that without attract- 
 ing everybody's attention — even in this neighbour- 
 hood. If you had shabby clothes. Besides 
 (seeing that her words have produced an impression 
 and speaking now more slowly and deliberately) what's 
 the use of running from one hiding-place to another } 
 You know it's only a question of time — days. The 
 
 pohce will find you in the end — and then (She 
 
 shrugs her shoulders. Earnestly.) Look ! Pu' ting 
 it on that lowest ground — I beg of you, I entreat of 
 you — give me that money — let me 
 
 Carter. Give it to you ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Yes. Give it to me. Let me 
 return it to Mr. Wright. 
 
 Carter (impatiently, turning towards the door, 
 hut none the less plainly indecisive). Oh, nonsense, 
 my dear child. '• ) 
 
 Miss Raeburn (again intercepting him). No, 49 
 
 listen. I saw Mr. Wright to-day, myself. I went to 
 
 his office. He — if the money is returned to him be^ 
 
 fore to-morrow, he has promised me that the firm 
 
 will take no further action. 
 
13, SIMON STREET 29 
 
 Carter {after a pause). On your honour — have 
 you given me away to \\Tight ? Have you told him 
 that I'm here ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. On my honour, no. 
 
 (.4 pause.) 
 
 Mr. Wright even said that if you gave up the 
 "money and were wiUing to make a fresh start some- 
 where — out of England — he would help you. I 
 know father would help you, too. 
 
 (Carter has now returned to the table and is fidgeting 
 idly with the newspaper left upon it by Lassen, his 
 eyes downcast, his indecision increasing.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn {approaching the table). Cecil, old 
 boy, do this. Be an honourable, honest man again. 
 You're not too old to face the world again. Face it 
 with your head up. 
 
 Carter. Oh, it's all jolly well to talk like that. 
 
 (^5 he speaks, mechanically, he turns over a page of the 
 
 newspaper. As his eyes fall upon the photograph 
 
 of himself, and the letterpress beneath it, his face 
 
 '■ assumes an expression of (bsolute consternation 
 
 and dismay.) 
 
 Oh ! {A pause.) Oh, damn it ! 
 
 Miss Raeburn. What ? 
 
 Carter {viciously). Damn it. Here's the explan- 
 ation. These fellows have seen this. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. A photograph ? 
 
 Carter. Yes. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. What is it ? The Daily Illus- 
 trated ? {As she speaks, she approaches the iable and 
 stands beside him looking at the newspaper. Quietly.) 
 I thought so. They know all about you. 
 
 Carter. I'll swear. {He goes hastily towards 
 the door leading to the staircase.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Oh, you may be sure they've 
 locked that door. 
 
30 13, SIMON STREET 
 
 (Carter reaches the door, tries it and discovers tlmt 
 her surmise is correct. He shakes the door furiously, 
 then goes hastily to the window, looks out, then turns 
 away from it with a gestiire of desperation. An idea 
 occurring to him, he goes to the table and begins to 
 search through the Jiewspaper hastily.) 
 
 Carter. There's nothing about a reward in this. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. No. Not in that. (Quickly.) 
 That newspaper is several days old, isn't it ? 
 
 Carter. Eh ? Yes. Monday. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. And this is Friday. It's four 
 days old. Yes. And they were looking at it, 
 too, when I came into the room — I think. At least, 
 they were both sitting there at that table — and that 
 newspaper was lying on it between them. That 
 settles it. They know all about you. 
 
 (Carter begins to walk restlessly about the room. 
 Miss Raeburn, w'hose face has assumed an expres- 
 sion of the utmost gravity, almost of apprehension, 
 seats herself, watching him abstractedly.) 
 
 Carter (after some moments, abruptly). Do you 
 think Wright really meant what he said to you ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. I shall tell you exactly what he 
 did say. " We close at one on Saturdays, Miss 
 Raeburn. But if that money is returned either to 
 me or to my brother' here before six o'clock to-morrow 
 evening, we won't prosecute." Those were his very 
 words. 
 
 Carter. Well — (He pauses. Then, after a moment, 
 making up his mind.) Well, look here, Helen — 
 I'll give it to you. 
 
 Miss .Raeburn. That's a dear fellow. 
 
 (Carter unlocks the bag, and taking from it a bundle 
 of notes, hands them to her silently.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn (taking them from him, laying her 
 other hand on his sleeve and looking up at his face). 
 Is it all here ? 
 
13, SIMON STREET 31 
 
 Carter. All excepc four pounds. I had to spend 
 some of it. I had no other money. 
 
 «Miss Raeburn. Give me whatever you have left 
 of the four pounds. 
 
 Carter. But— what shall I do. I 
 
 Miss Raeburn. I have some silver — I will lend 
 that to you. To-mor-row you must go and see father 
 and Mr. Wright. 
 
 (He empties kis pockets of sundry coins, which he hands 
 to her. She takes out her own purse and hands it 
 to hi7n.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn. That will do until to-morrow, I 
 hope. 
 
 Carter (after a moment) . I can't thank you. 
 Miss Raeburn (abstractedly). What ? Oh— 
 thank me ! 
 
 {As she rolls the coins which he has given her in the 
 notes, she perceives at the top of the bundle a ticket.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn. There is a ticket with these. 
 
 Carter. A ticket ? Oh, yes. That is the ticket 
 for a bag I left at Charing Cross— at the Left Luggage 
 Office. "You might give me that (approaching her.. 
 As she hands him the ticket.) Thanks. (As he 
 puts it away.) You will see Wright to-morrow ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. I trust so. 
 {Something in her tone attracts Carter's attention 
 
 and his eyes follow her as she rises, and crossing to 
 
 the window, peers out into the darkness, craning 
 
 her neck to examine the walls of the house on either 
 
 side of the window.) 
 {Coming away from the window, she approaches the 
 
 door.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn. You couldn't do anything with 
 this door, could you? (Shaking it.) No. What 
 does the window of that room look on to ? 
 
 Carter. The same yard as that one. Why ? 
 
32 13, SIMON STREET • 
 
 Miss Raeburn (hesitating a moment before she 
 -puis her thoughts into words). You know. I 
 don't believe for a moment that those men have 
 gone to the pohce — or would ever think of going to 
 the pohce — even if they knew there were a reward. 
 
 Carter Well, it doesn't matter, does it, now ? 
 Even if they arrest me — if Wright refuses to prosecute 
 — I shall be released. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. My dear boy, doesn't it occur to 
 you at all that the behaviour of these men may mean 
 something very much more serious than even your 
 arrest. 
 
 Carter [vaguely alarmed by her air). Oh, no — I 
 shouldn't think so. Oh no. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. You haven't seen the second man. 
 If you had — He's got the most brutal, evil] face 
 I've e^er seen on any human being. I'm not a 
 coward, Cecil — but, I tell you — honestly — (with a 
 gesture) I'm frightened. These men know or 
 believe that you have twelve hundred pounds here — 
 with you — at their mercy. 
 
 Carter (staring at her ; in an undertone). But 
 they'd never leave us to ourselves like this if they 
 meant mischief. 
 
 Miss Raeburn (shrugging her shoulders). I shrewd- 
 ly suspect that they've gone now to try to discover 
 whether I came alone or with some one else. Before 
 they admitted to me that you were here, the yasked 
 me to leave the room — like a fool I did — and then 
 they talked together for quite a long time — and 
 the second one — the big one — went away almost 
 immediately. I'm sure they arranged something 
 then. I know they did. 
 
 (A pause.) 
 
 Carter (nervously incoherent). Do you mean to 
 
 say (He coughs to recover control of his voice.) 
 
 Do you mean that you think they'd actually 
 
 Miss Raeburn (interrupting him). I think that if 
 
13, SIMON STREET 3a 
 
 they find us both in this room when they come back 
 — neither of us will leave it alive, I may be quite 
 wrong — we shall know in a very few minutes, I 
 expect. But — that's what I think. 
 
 [She seats herself again. Carter, after a moment, 
 goes again to the window, and in his turn examines 
 the in) alls of the house on either side.) 
 
 Carter (coming away from the window). It's a 
 sheer drop of thirty feet to the yard. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. There's a pipe of some kind at the 
 side — just near the window. 
 
 Carter. Yes. But that would never bear my 
 weight. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Try it. 
 
 Carter. Oh, it wouldn't. I know it wouldn't 
 
 (He walks about the room, his fright increasing momen 
 tarily. Miss Raeburn hardly heeding him, sits 
 trying to evolve some way out of the predicament.) 
 
 Carter (after a moment) . Damn it all, Helen, you've 
 scared me, with your own fright. I'm in a blue funk. 
 Miss Raeburn (doggedly). Try the pipe. 
 
 (Carter goes to the windoiv, and after some cautious 
 investigation, climbs towards the right, supporting 
 himself against the angle of the wall. He is just 
 visible in the outer darkness. After some moments, 
 he climbs back again.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn (grimly). Well ? 
 
 Carter (very dubiously). It might hold for a few 
 seconds. It would probably give before I got quar- 
 ter way down, though. 
 
 Miss Raeburn (rising: with decision). Well — 
 If you won't go, I must, that's all. One of us has got 
 to risk it, that's plain. There is no other way. 
 
 Carter. Oh,' it's out of the question your going. 
 (A pause.) I haven't the faintest notion how I should 
 
 c 
 
34 13, SIMON STREET 
 
 find my way to the street even if I did get down 
 safely. And God knows what these beggars would 
 
 do to 3^ou — probably 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Oh, don't bother about me. I 
 can look after myself until you can get assistance. 
 Don't think. Don't talk. Do it. If I hadn't 
 these dash skirts. I'd do it hke a shot. 
 
 (A pause.) 
 
 Carter. All right, then. I'll chance it. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Don't go hunting for a policeman. 
 Any, one — any man will do. Don't w^aste time. I 
 may be able to hold them off for ten minutes or so — 
 but after that they're certain to discover that 
 you've got away — and then 
 
 Carter. I shall do my best. If possible, I should 
 prefer to keep clear of the police until you've seen 
 Wright. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Yes. It's safer. (Glancing at 
 her watch.) I may see Mr. Wright this evening. 
 (Holding out her hand to him). I i&ill see Mr. Wright 
 this evening. (Turning away from him.) Whistle 
 twice if you get down safely. 
 
 Carter. All right. (He turns away, and seeing 
 his hat and bag on the table, hesitates beside them.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn. No. Better leave your hat and 
 your bag — and — that ticket. The Parcels' Office 
 ticket for your other bag. Give me that — I may 
 want that. 
 
 (He hands her the ticket, then nods to her, and going to 
 the window climbs out on the sill, leans over to the 
 right, moves one foot out to the pipe, then abruptly 
 disappears. After some moments, Miss Raeburn 
 rises and goes to the window. As she reaches it, the 
 sound of footsteps ascending the stairs attracts her 
 attention : she glances toivards the door, then hastily 
 takes Carter's bag from the table and moves quickly 
 to the door leading into the adjoining room.) 
 
13, SKvION STREZT 35 
 
 Miss Raeburn [loudly, as if speaking to Carter 
 in the other room). No, not yet. I hear some one on 
 the stairs, now. Perhaps that is he. 
 
 {ReacJiii'ig the door of the other roojn, :^he ope^is it, 
 throws irdo the room Carter's bag, then stands 
 holdirig the door slightly ajar and apparently speaking' 
 .to Carter ; the door leading from the stairs opens, 
 and Lassen — noiv hooted — enters tJie room.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn (as Lassen enters). What ? A 
 glass ? {Si:e glznces towards the cracked mirror hang- 
 ing on the wall. Yes, there is one here. I'll ask. 
 (To Lassen.) May I borrow your looking-glass for a 
 few minutes ? 
 
 Lassen (wJio Jias locked the door leading to the stairs) . 
 Borrow it ? Wot for ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Mr. Carter wants to shave. . 
 
 (As s/ie speaks, she detaches the glass from the wall. 
 A faint wJiistle is heard through the ivindow, and is 
 repeated after a moment.) 
 
 Lassen (after a reflective pa::se). Cw. 'As 'c got 
 a razor ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn (with a steady look at Jiim). Yes, 
 thank you. You don't mind his having this ? 
 
 Lassen. Mind ? Now, 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Thank you very much. 
 
 (She goes to the door of the adjoining room. As she 
 passes through it.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Here you are. 
 
 (She disappears for a m-onient, reappearing almost in- 
 stantly. As sJie comes out, shutting the door behind 
 her — over her sh.oulder.) 
 
 Don't be long, p^.ea^e. 
 
36 13, SIMON STREET 
 
 {As she says these words, her eyes turn to Lassen. 
 She goes towards him slowly.) 
 
 Lassen. Wot does 'e want to shave 'isself for ? 
 Funny time o' day to shave 'isself. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. I will tell you why. [She looks 
 at him for a moment. Very quietly.) I know I may 
 trust you, may I not ? 
 
 Lassen (puzzled). Trust me ? Course. Course 
 you may trust me. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Yes. There's something about 
 your face, something that assures one that you would 
 never do anything treacherous or unfair. One 
 feels — one knows somehow that one can depend upon 
 you — absolutely. 
 
 Lassen (still more puzzled, after a stare at her). 
 Are you — are you kiddin' ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn (who -has apparently never heard 
 the word and is incapable of the action). Kidding ? 
 Kidding ? What is that ? 
 
 Lassen. Are you tryin' to pull my leg ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. I am in earnest — if that is what 
 you mean. I don't trust your friend though. 
 
 Lassen. Jack ? Ow, Jack's all right. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. No — I do trust you ; but — 
 he — well — he's different, isn't he ? 
 
 Lassen. Ow — well — we're not exactly the same 
 clawss, that's right. . 
 
 Miss Raeburn (meditatively). No — he's a brute. 
 You — you're one of Nature's gentlemen, I think. 
 
 Lassen (not entirely unconvinced of the justice of 
 this criticism). Well — p'raps. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Look. (With an appearance 
 of intimate and confidential reliance). What I am 
 going to say to you — you must promise me that you 
 will not repeat it — to any one — either your friend 
 Jack or any one. Will you promise me that ? 
 
 Lassen (with a grin). Lor lumme, yes. I'll promise 
 you anything — when you arsks it hke that. 
 
13, SIMON STREET 37 
 
 Miss Raeburn. On your word ? 
 
 Lassen. On my word. Gow a'ead an' let's 
 'ear wot it is. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. It's this. (She is now standing 
 near the candles — she examines her watch abstractedly — 
 then glances at his face for a moment before proceeding. 
 Hesitatingly.) I hope you won't be shocked — but — 
 mind — you've promised me solemnly that this will 
 not go be3^ond yourself. 
 
 Lassen. I've promised. An' you needn't be 
 afraid o' shockin' me. I've a 'ardened constitootion. 
 Gow a'ead. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. V/ell. Mr. Carter [break- 
 ing off abruptly again.) By the way, how did you 
 discover Mr. Carter's real name ? 
 
 Lassen. 'Ow ? See 'is picture in the paiper with 
 'is naime underneath it. That's 'ow. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. This paper ? [Indicating the 
 newspaper lying on the table.) 
 
 Lassen. Yus. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Oh — then — then you know that — 
 that he is in trouble ? You know what has 
 happened ? 
 
 Lassen [seating himself and lookir.g up at her). 
 'Spowse I does ? Wot then ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn [turning away from him) . We guessed 
 you knew. [Turning to him. appealingly.) You won't 
 betray him ? You won't give him up. I know that 
 that is the right — the strictly just thing to do — the 
 thing that a man like you — a man with high principles 
 and a rigid sense'of honour — would almost certainly 
 feel it is his duty to do. But — {laying her hand on 
 his sleeve.) — you won't, will you ? 
 
 Lassen. 'E's a thief. That's wot 'e is — a com- 
 mon thief. 
 
 Miss Raeburn [availing herself of the fact that he 
 has averted his eyes for a moment, to look again at her 
 watch.) I know. But — if I tell you that you will 
 really be helping Mr. Carter to restore the money 
 
38 13, SIMON STREET • 
 
 which he (She breaks off dhrupUy.) I can't 
 
 think. Do you know, even now, I can't beheve 
 that he did it. That he could have been so incredibly 
 mad as to take that money. I can't believe it. 
 
 (A p{zt:se.) 
 
 Lassen. Well — gow a'ead. I ain't 'card anythin' 
 wot I didn't know afore, so far. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. What was I saying ? Oh, yes. 
 If I tell you that you will really be helping to restore 
 that money to its proper owners — won't you— won't 
 your conscience allow you to do what I ask of you — 
 to spare him the punishment — punishment which, I 
 know, perhaps, he deserves ; but still — because I 
 know that he m.ust have been mad to do it — he 
 never meant to do it — I mean, he would never, never 
 have done such a thing if he had been in his right 
 senses. I know him, you see. I knovv^ him so 
 well — and I know 
 
 Lassen {impatiently). Yes, yes — all right — 
 but— wot 'ave you got to tell me ? That's wot 
 I'm waitin' to 'car. Is 'e (with a jerk of his head 
 towards the door of the other room.) thinkin' of givin' 
 up the stuff 'e collared, then ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Yes. He will. He has con- 
 sented to do that. That is why I came to him — 
 here — to ask him to give back the money to Mr. 
 Wright. He's willing to do that — and after all, 
 that — that is some sort of an atonement, isn't it ? 
 
 Lassen. Some sort of a wot ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. An atonement — a making up for 
 what he has done. And that is how we want you to 
 help us. Because in helping M". Carter, you will 
 be helping me — and I know you'd like to help me, 
 wouldn't you ? 
 
 Lassen (gazing at her charming face). V/'y ? 
 'cause you've a pretty faice, is it ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn (demurely). Oh no. My face 
 is not pretty — and besides, I know that you are not 
 
13, SIMON STREET 39 
 
 the kind of weak, foolish man that would allow a 
 pretty face to induce him to disregard the dictates 
 of his conscience. No — no — but — however — if you 
 are willing to help him — this is what I want to ask 
 you to do. You see, of course, Mr. Carter natur- 
 ally wouldn't care to go to Mr. V/right — himself — 
 you understand — with the money— and I — well 
 — I couldn't very well go to him, either — could 
 I — ? I mea.n — well — frankly — I shouldn't care — 
 you know ? 
 
 Lassen. Well ? 
 
 Miss Raebukn. Well — we want some other per- 
 son — some trustworthy person to go. You — if you 
 are willing to do us the great kindness — will you ? 
 
 Lassen (after a moment). Me ? (He stares at her.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn. I would go with you to Charing 
 Cross. Not that I distrust you. Don't think 
 for a moment that I distrust you ; but I shan't 
 have any peace until I know that the money is safely 
 in Mr. Wright's hands. ¥/e — you and I, would 
 go to Charing Cross Station — get the bag at the Left 
 Luggage Office — go from there straight to Mr. 
 Wright's Office. Give Mr. Wright the bag ; he 
 can open it. Mr. Carter has lost the key. 
 
 Lassen (who has risen, visibly disconcerted). 
 Ain't he got the stuff with 'im, then ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. The money ? Here ? No. 
 
 Lassen (dismayed). Ow. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Oh, it would be much too risky 
 carrying a lot of money like that about him. 
 He has been hiding fo" nearly a week, you see — and — 
 well — of course — in tenement houses and places of that 
 sort — well — frankly — one comes across curious people 
 in places of that kind — doesn't one ? 
 
 Lassen (sullenly). Down't know, I'm sure. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Oh, yes. I assure you — quite 
 curious people. (His back being turned, she again 
 glances at her watch.) Of course, if — well — if you 
 went to the police — the money would be returned to 
 
40 13, SIMON STREET 
 
 Mr. Wright, in that case, too. But — I beg of you 
 not to do that. 
 
 Lassen (after a thonghtfid pause, giving a searching 
 look at her face). 'E's got the money in 'is bag in the 
 Left Luggage Ofhce at Charing Cross Station, you 
 say ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn (taking the ticket which Carter had 
 given Jier from her glove, and examining it by the candle) . 
 " Left Luggage Ofhce. Charing Cross Station." Mr. 
 Wright leaves his oihce at six o'clock. If possible, 
 we ought to ^et there before he leaves. 
 
 (She rises, goes slowly to the door leading to the adjoining 
 room, opens it, glances in, then utters an exclamation 
 of amused confusion and retreats hastily.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn (laughingly). Oh, gracious ! (Com- 
 ing back towards Lassen.) I forgot that Mr. Carter 
 was engaged in such a serious operation. I do hope 
 I haven't make hiiti cut himself. (Serious again.) 
 I'm afraid I can't wait much longer. Will you do 
 what I ask you ? 
 
 Lassen.. I'm not satisfied abaht this. Lemme 
 'ave a look at that ticket. I'm not satisfied abaht 
 this. (He holds out a grimy paw.) 
 
 (Miss Raeburn hands him the ticket. He examines 
 it closely, then turns to her again.) 
 
 Lassen (slowly). I tells you wot — I'll gow to 
 Charin' Crawss and get the bag an' fetch it back 'ere 
 — see ? If that money's .in it — w'y — then you or 
 me'll gow an' intervoo this 'ere Mr. WYight. If it 
 ain't — w'y — well, then, I'll see wot I thinks I'll do 
 abaht it. There — that's wot I'm wilhn' to do. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. You mean — that — you — that 
 you would wish Mr. Carter to remain here — until you 
 return ? 
 
 Lassen. Yes. That's wot I mean — 'im and 
 you stay 'ere till I comes back. 
 
13, SIMON STREET 41 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Oh ! but why ? 
 
 (They both turn towards the door, as the sound of ap- 
 proaching footsteps reaches them.) 
 
 {There is a knock at the door leading from the stairs.) 
 
 Lassen. 'Oo's that ? 
 
 (Miss Raeburn 's expression of momentary hope 
 fades as the reply reaches her cars.) 
 
 RuTT (outside). Me, Jack. 
 
 Lassen. Right oh! Art a mo. (In an undertone 
 to Miss Raeburn, hastily.) Best keep a tight 
 mouth afore Jack, you know — if you don't want 
 your friend quodded. If 'e finds aht w'y Carter's 
 'idin' 'ere — w'y, 'e'U gow strife to the pohce station. 
 That's the kind 'e is. 'E cawn't bear sneaks. 
 Jack cawn't. You keep your mouth shut. I 
 'vise you. 
 
 (He goes and unlocks the door. Rutt comes in.) 
 
 RuTT (after a quick glance about, to Lassen) . Noth- 
 ing. 
 
 Lassen. Same 'ere. 
 
 RuTT. Were's the bloke ? 
 
 Lassen. In there. Shavin' 'isself. (He winks, 
 with a grin.) 
 
 (Turning away from Rutt, and approaching Miss 
 Raeburn, who has listened to this coUoquy anxi- 
 ously hut 'discreetly .) \ 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Well— is that right ? I can 
 trust you ? 
 
 Lassen. Down't you know as 'ow you can ? 
 Ain't yer said yourself as 'ow I'm an honourable gentle- 
 man of 'igh principles ? Plain for any one to see ? 
 Course you can trust me. 
 
 Miss R.\eburn (quietly). Very well. 
 
42 13, SIMOX STREET 
 
 (Lassen ncds, then goes over to Rutt, lyJio lies looked 
 on distmstfully.) 
 
 Lassen. You keep an eye 'ere for a few minutes, 
 Jack. (WitJi a wink.) I'm gowin' to fetch some- 
 thing for this 'ere laicly. 
 
 Rutt. Wot ? 
 
 Lassen. You'll see. [With a significant look.) 
 Lock the door. I shawn't be long. Be careful — 
 d'y 'ear ? 
 
 Rutt. Ow, all right. 'Urr^/ up. 
 
 (Lassen nods and goes out. Rutt locks the door, 
 then comes forward to the table and seats himself 
 grimly, his face averted from Miss Raeburn. There 
 is silence for several moments. Miss Raeburn's 
 eyes rest meditatively on Rutt's face.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn (coming towards Rutt). Will you 
 please open that door for me ? 
 
 Rutt [turning on her with a vicious snarl). Now. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. But I want to follow that m.an. 
 I must. I don't trust him. I know that he doesn't 
 really mean to come back here. Please open the 
 door for me. Please. 
 
 'Rvji: (ferociously). Now — you 
 
 [He rises, Miss Raeburn retreats before his sinister 
 advance.) 
 
 Rutt (hideously). Down't you 'ave no fear. 
 'E'll com.e back. 
 
 Miss Raeburn. No, no, no. He won't. He's 
 got the ticket. 
 
 (Rutt's attention is at once attracted.) 
 
 He'll go to Charing Cross and get Mr. Carter's bag — 
 and — oh — do let me go. Do, I beg of you. 
 
 Rutt (somewhat uneasily, meanifigly) . Wot bag 
 are you talkin' abaht ? Wot bag, I says ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn (who is now almost tearful). Mr. 
 
13, SIMON STREET 43 
 
 Carter's bag — I asked that man to help me to return 
 the money. You know — do you know ? 
 
 RuTT [with greatly increased uneasiness and fero- 
 city). Money — V/ot the 'ell — 'As 'e (jerking his 
 head towards the stairs) got the money ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. -Not yet — but he's gone to Char- 
 ing Cross — and he has the ticket for the bag — ^^and 
 — oh, please don't keep me— please let me go. 
 
 RuTT. Shut your row, will you ? {He raises 
 his hand menacingly .) Charing Cross ? Charing 
 Cross Station ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Yes. It's in the Left Lug- 
 gage Ofhce there. Oh — what shall I do ? 
 
 RuTT (viciously). The blawsted little 
 
 (He snatches up his hat and rushes towards the door. 
 He stops for a moment to listen, as footsteps are once 
 again audible ascending the stairs.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps 
 this is he. 
 
 i(RuTT Opens the door hastily, and Carter appears 
 in the aperture, one hand bound up in a handker- 
 chief, but otherwise unscathed.) 
 
 Miss Raeburn (at once hastening towards the door. 
 Piteously). Oh, what shall I do — what shall I do ? 
 
 RuTT (ferociously). Shut it, curse you. (To 
 Carter.) What does you want ? 
 
 Carter. I want 
 
 Miss Raeburn (interrupting hastily). The gentle- 
 man is a friend of mine. He has been waiting for 
 me. (To Carter.) Do come in — I am in the 
 most awful trouble — I don't know what on earth 
 
 RuTT (after a quick glance from one to the other, 
 pushing Carter violently to one side, and rushing 
 hastily from the room). Aht o' the way, you 
 
 (He disappears tumultuously.) 
 
 (Carter gazes after him in stupefaction. Miss Rae- 
 
44 13, SIMON STREET 
 
 burn's expression of tearful anxiety changes abruptly 
 to laughter. She seats herself and laughs uncontrolled. 
 Carter stares at her, quite puzzled.) 
 
 Carter. What on earth ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn (jumping tip). I'll tell you as we 
 go along. Oh, it's too funny. But how foohsh 
 of you to return alone. 
 
 Carter. I saw the other — the small one run 
 out of the house and away down the street. So I 
 reckoned I might risk coming alone. How did you 
 manage ? 
 
 Miss Raeburn. Oh, it's a long story. And Tve 
 had to tell some most deplorable whoppers. I 
 told them that you were shaving. Though I don't 
 know that that was a whopper, after all. 
 
 (As she goes towards the door. Carter collects his 
 hat and bag.) 
 
 On the whole, I rather fancy we've both had a pretty 
 close shave. Come along. 
 
 Curtain Falls. 
 
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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