T.S. Denison & Company Publishers Chicago Price, 30 Cents Th® Window Return this book on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2016 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates https://archive.org/details/faceatwindowdramOOpark THE FACE AT THE WINDOW A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS BY W. a^PARKER AUTHOR OF Those Dreadful Twins ” “A Black Heifer,” “The Lonelyville Social Club,” “Brother Josiah,” “All a Mistake,” etc. CHICAGO T. S. DENISON & COMPANY Publishers THE FACE AT THE WINDOW CAST OF CHARACTERS. Reginald Spofford Chester La Grange ) alias > Second Story Bill J Mose Johnson Henry Swartwood Vera Stanley Mrs. Spofford Lillian Stanhope Dinah A Number of Villagers, Etc . One of New York's 400 Of Unsavory Reputation . .Who Refuses to Work A Detective Wronged, but Forgiving « Mother of Reginald Her Niece A Domestic Place — A Village Near New York. Time — The Present. Time of Playing — About Two Hours . t c Notice — Amateurs are free to produce this play, but the sole professional rights are reserved by the author, who may be ad- dressed in care of the Publisher. COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY T. S. DENISON. MADE IN U. S. A. 2 3 sii L, THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. COSTUMES. * Reginald. — Suitable business suit. May change for Act II. if desired. Chester, Act I. — Rough, castaway, well worn suit, slouch lat, several days’ growth of beard appearing on his face. let II. Splendidly dressed in light traveling suit, etc. Act II. Appearing to be on the verge of “shabby genteel.” Mose. — Rough castaway suit, change to old Salvation Vrmy suit. Acts II. and III., suitable servant’s livery. Henry. — Business suit, derby hat. Vera. — Acts I. and II., refined house gowns. Act III . iValking dress with cape over shoulders. Mrs. Spofford. — Neat walking gowns. Lillian. — Neat walking gowns. Dinah. — Act I. Kitchen dress. Acts II. and III. Neat ervant’s dresses. Villagers. — All kinds and classes. PROPERTIES. Act I. — Feather duster for Dinah. Dishes, etc., for table, tibbons, laces, etc., on escritoire. Handkerchief for Chester. Sealed letter for Dinah. Table bell on table. Imbrella for Mose, Key in drawer and revolver for Vera. Act II. — Eyeglass for Mrs. S. Photograph for Vera. ,ocket and chain for Lillian. Burglar tools for Chester. lecklace in drawer. Knife for Chester. Act III. — Handcuffs for Henry. Card for Reginald,. ain coat for Chester. Revolver for Chester. Revolver [or Henry. 4 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. SYNOPSIS FOR PROGRAM. Act I. — The unprotected home. The rejected suitor The plot to rob. The Salvation Army man. The letter The secret of a life. The attempted robbery. The recog nition. The fight against odds. Reginald to the rescue. Act II. — Continued persecution. The refusal. The re formed burglar. The heiress. Plot and counter plot. Th< photograph. Reunited school girls. Courting under diffi culties. The discovery. The robbery. The interrupte( murder of the wrong party. “The Face at the Window.” Act III. — The lonely rocky pass. Raking up old occur rences. Seeing things in a new light. The explanation The slippery rocks. The clandestine meeting. The rejectee proposal. The use of force. The battle on the rocks. Th* right wins. “Free at last.” SCENE. i Acts I. and II. — Drawing room, home of Vera Stanley Act III. — A Rocky Pass, Palisades of the Hudson. Th* rocks required may be produced by placing ground clotj over boxes of various sizes, with or without wood wings am set rocks. SCENE PLOT. ACTS I. AND II. LANDSCAPE BACKING THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 5 ACT III. LANDSCAPE BACKING Rocks Rocks Wood Wings Wood Wings Wood Wings Wood Wings STAGE DIRECTIONS. R. means right of the stage; C., center; R. C., right cen- ter; L. } left; R. D right door; L. D., left door, etc.; i E., first entrance ; U. E., upper entrance, etc. ; D. F door in fiat or scene running across the back of the stage; I G., first groove, etc. The actor is supposed to be facing the audience. LIGHT PLOT. Act I. — Lights on full. At cue “a hundred dollars” gradually lower, and turn on red light in grate and white light for moonlight effect in window. The white light may be produced by a lamp of any sort placed so that a strong re- flector will concentrate the light through the window with- out the lamp being seen by the audience. Act II. — Lights on full. At cue “your old playfellow.* change lights same as Act I. Act III. — Lights on full throughout. MUSIC. In case there is any difficulty in finding suitable music for the play, a good selection of incidental music will be found in Denison’s “Descriptive Music Book” which may be ob- tained from the publisher for the price of $ 1 . 50 , postpaid. THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. ACT I. Scene. — Interior. Fancy Chamber. Practical window with curtains, up C. Doors, R. 2 E., and L. 3 E. Fire- place, L. 2 E. Armchair and footstool in front of fire- place. Escritoire , up R. Table, down C. Chairs, etc. y to dress the stage. See Scene Plot for stage setting. Lively Music Until Curtain Up. Discovered , Dinah. Dinah (dusting). I can’t git it fro ma ole hard head, jes’ what am de matter wif de missus lately. I done specs i she’s gwine ter be a mighty sick pusson, ef she doan stop habin’ dem yere nervous faintin’ spells, an’ sech like. Neb- ! ber did see nuffin’ like it, nohow. Nebber did, fo suah. Enter Mose, door L. 3 E. Mose (sticking his head out cautiously ). Hush! Din. Who dar? Mo. (coming on). Me, Dinah. Don’t you recomember ) you’ little honey? Din. Go on, man, you ain’t no honey ob mine. How; many times I got ter tell you all not to come aroun’ an’ bother me wha I’se workin’ ? Go on ! Get out, foa I done put you out ! Mo. Look, yah, Dinah, ef you only knowed how anxious I is to see you, you wouldn’t talk dat way ter me. Jes think ob it ! I haint see’d you in mos’ two weeks ! Din. Naw, an’ I doan care ef I doan see you foa ten yeah’s moah. You ain’t nuffin but a common, low-down niggah, nohow ! 6 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 7 Mo. Doan you call me names ; woman ! Din. Doan you gib me no sass, man ! Mo. I doan gib you no sass. Ese talkin' sense, I is. Say, listen. Did you heah de news? Din. Wha' news? Mo. ( aside ). Curiosity am de bait wot catches a woman, ebery time. {To Din.) Why, I done heard dat Mrs. Spof- ford am goin' to make her son Reginald marry her niece, Lillian Stanhope. Din. Den his mammy'll git left, fer her son Reggy is jes' simply dead stuck on my missus. Mo. Yas, but you doan un'stan' dat Miss Stanhope is a mighty rich gal. Din. No moah dan you un'stan' dat Vera Stanley, my missus, am jes' as dog-gone rich. Why, her diamonds alone am wort' a fortun'. Mo. Den what am she a doin', a libin' out yeah all alone ? Din. All alone? Look heah, man, doan you realize dat I am aroun'? Why, she's safe enough, an' so is her dia- monds, while I is watchin' ovah her, see? Mo. {laughing ) . Ho, ho, ho! You is a great protection, ! you is ! Din. Wha' dat? Wha’ dat, you say? {Grabs Mose and shakes , punches , pounds , and kicks him until he is all broken up, then runs him off door, L. 3 E.) Enter Vera Stanley, followed by Reginald, door , R. 2 E. Vera. I wonder what has happened to ruffle Dinah’s temper ? She is generally so quiet. Reginald {laughing ) . Possibly this is her “hoodoo" day. At any rate, I trust it is nothing more serious. But, really, Mrs. Stanley, it is foolhardiness in the extreme for you to expose yourself to the chance of personal injury by remain- ing essentially alone in an out-of-the-way place, like this. Ver. Possibly so. But it is the best I can do. Reg. Can't I persuade you to accept my mother's hos- ; pitality until Ver. {stopping him). No, no, Mr. Spofiford; do not create hopes that can never be realized. Dreams that can THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. never come true. Consider the futility of such a thought, and dismiss it from, your mind. Plaintive music , pp. Reg. You will not even permit me to hope? Ver. I have told you there has been a shadow cast upon my life, so deep that it's eradication is impossible. It is a cloud that obscures every possible ray of sunshine from my unhappy existence. Reg. Why not make me your confidant? I can un- doubtedly assist you Ver. Impossible. I dare not, even if I would. Pray do not insist. Outside help will be futile. There is no es- cape but death. Reg. Vera! I beg of you Ver. ( suppressing a desire to yield). No, no! We must not meet again ! I shall leave this place forever! We have but one common duty, and that is to forget ! Reg. ( seizing her hand passionately) . I never shall for- get you! Enter Mo., door L. 3 E. Conceals himself behind the cur- tains, and listens. Reg. If I cannot assist you, let me at least share your sorrow ! Ver. Any explanation I might offer would but emphasize the utter hopelessness of your suit. Reg. I cannot accept that as your final answer. I have, fondly imagined that you cared for me — that in time you might Ver. For mercy's sake, I beg of you Reg. But why all this mystery? Can you so easily for- get the happy hours Ver. Can you not realize what a sacrifice this means tc me? Reg. But why Ver. I know what you would say, but alas, it cannot be ! There now, please go ! I will write you — in an hour you shall receive a letter explaining all. (Going, R.) Reg. ( following her). Not good bye? THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 9 Ver. Yes— it must be — good bye forever! (Exit, door , R. 2 E.) Reg. Forever? She cannot mean it. She must have learned that my mother has insisted that I marry my cousin Lillian, and the mere suggestion of my union to another has offended her. Her pride has been wounded, that is all. I must explain to her that no amount of persuasion can lead me to forget my devotion to her. ( Starts , R. Stops.) But, no< — she is piqued now — I will wait until a more fa- vorable opportunity presents itself. Meanwhile, I will ap- prise my mother of my firm determination to wed Vera Stanley, or no one. (Exit, door L. 3 £.) Stop music. Mo. (coming from behind curtains). Well, what d’ye think ob a young man goin’ again the wishes ob his mother in dat way? De ole woman raise de debil ef she done knowed dat. I wonder what she’d give me ef I peached on de young feller, an’ put her wise to what’s goin’ on ? Chester appears at windoiv. Mo. One thing suah, I’se got ter make a raise ob some sort mighty quick, er dey’ll be a famine in pork chops in de neighborhool ob my stomach. (Stealthily picks up a dish from the table and tries to conceal it in his clothes .) Chester opens window and enters cautiously . Chester (coming down , aside). Some one here, eh? Well, I’ll have to bluff him out. (To Mo.) I’ve caught you at it, eh ? ( Grabs him. ) Mo. (starting). Caught nuffin! Can’t yo see, I’se jes polishing up dis dish foah I fills it wid fruit? Ches. (astonished. Releases Mo.). What! Do my eyes deceive me? Mo. I done knows dat voice. I seen it afore. (Turns to Ches. Their eyes meet.) Well, ef it ain’t “Second Story Bill,” dressed up like a gent’man ! Ches. “Nigger Mose !” The devil ! How did you ever get here? W THE FACE AT THE WINDOW- Mo. One night, when de guard wasn't lookin’, I hid ir a shoe-box. Nex’ mawin’ somebody very carelessly nailed down the cover an I was shipped out'n de penitentiary tc a shoe store, an’ when a young feller opened dat box, an’ I jumped out, he was so scared he fainted dead away, an afore anybody knowed what was de matter, I was clean out’n de “hoop-skirts” of de town. But how did you all git out’n de prison? Ches. ( looking around cautiously ). Hush! I watched my chance— caught the keeper off his guard— brained him with a hammer — exchanged my prison suit for his clothes — walked out of the prison, and there you are! Simple as the nose on your face — when you know how. But what are you doing here? Working? Mo. Yes. Workin’! Same as you is — disway — ( picks handkerchief out of Chester’s pocket ). Ches. ( grabbing handkerchief). Well, work somebody else, besides me. Who lives here? Mo. ( half whispering). A young widow, with diamonds enough to buy the town, an’ a roll of bills what’d choke a, cow, ef you can only find out wha’ she keeps ’em. Ches. Can’t you find out? Mo. I was jes’ tryin’ to, when you come along an’ blocked me game. Ches. Very well. We can’t both work the same biz at once. I 11 go back outside. You stay in here, and as soorf as you locate the swag, you can call me with the same oldj signal whistle we used in the penitentiary. Be sure the- coast is clear before you call me, for I’m getting tired ofi taking lives, and would like to do this job, if possible, with-! out shedding any blood. [Going, C.) Mind you, no treachery, now. You know how handy I am with the gun, if I have to be. [Exit, window.) # Mo. Well, his showin’ up now is de best piece ob luck I se had in a dog’s-age. I was near losin’ ma nerve to do dis job, but now dat “Second Story Bill” is yeah ter help me, 1 ainl’t scared ob nufifin, nohow. Din. [outside, L . 3 E .). Wha dat miserable, low-down ! “Nigger Mose”? THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 11 Mo. ( shivering and showing every evidence of being afraid). Dat is, I aint scared ob nuffin, ’ceptin’ her. I done reckon she am de boss ob de whole Tater patch. Enter Din., door L . 3 E. Din. Here, you! Wat you standby yah doin’ nuffin foah? Come on, yeah, an’ make youself useful. Take dis yeah letter down to de village foah de missus, an’ mind you doan waste no time about it, nohow. ( Hands letter to Mo.) Mo. ( taking letter. Aside). It’s de letter “explainin' all.” Dat’s agwine ter cost somebody some money. Din. Well, why doan you go? Mo. What dye think I is — a messenger boy, ter be runniiT errands? Din. ( making ready to chastise Mo.) Who yo’ talkin’ to? ( Rolling up her sleeves.) Who yo’ talkin’ to, eh? ( Squaring off.) I’ll show you who’s de messenger boy! ( Grabs Mo. and whirls him around.) Now git! See? Deliver dat letter, an’ mind yo’ be quick about it, an’ dat’s all dere am to it, see? ( Grabs Mo. and fires him out bodily, door, L. 3 E.) Dat’s de way to settle de “marriage ques- tion.” No use wastin’ words about it. Jes’ let de ole man . know you’s de boss, an’ dat am de reason why, because Enter Vera, door R. 2 E. Vera ( laughing ). Well, Dinah, what seems to be the matter ? Din. Oh, nuffin’. Jes’ teachin’ my ole man ter respect his superiors, dat’s all. Ver. I’m afraid you have undertaken a hopeless task. Men are not inclined to be easily controlled. Din. Doan know nuffin’ ’bout de “incline,” but dat ole man’ll mind what I has to say, er I’se gwine to puncture his ole cranium fer him, en’ dat’s all dere am to it. Ver. I am inclined to believe that women as a rule would be more happy, if a disposition such as yours were more prevalent. Din. Yas. I doan know wat you all’s talkin’ ’bout, but I’se sure it’s right. You couldn’t say nuffin’ agin a man U OF ILL LIB. 12 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. what’d be wrong. ( Suddenly remembering her cooking .) Well, I'll be dog-goned ef I aint left dat custard pie in de oven all dis time ! It’ll be spiled as suah’s yotPf a foot high ! {Exit, hastily , door , L. 3 E.) Plaintive music , pp. Ver. Poor Dinah imagines she has lots of trouble, but how little does she imagine the suffering I am obliged to undergo! How for years I have been compelled to keep a secret, that is slowly but surely wearing my once happy life down to a mere wretched existence! And just as I had nearly overcome the bitter struggle and was schooling my- self to bear with fortitude the galling loneliness of my sol- itary life, now a new torture appears to complete my mis- ery! When I thought that every spark of womanly af- fection was securely buried in the oblivion of my unhappy past, then I awake from the serene contemplation of res- ignation to my fate, to find a new temptation gnawing away at my very heart-strings ! I am compelled to face the real- ization that I love and am loved ! A thought that with others is ofttimes the crowning happiness of an uneventful life ! A harbinger of joy as welcome to them as the awaken- ing of a new dawn of all creation ! Yet to me there appears but another cloud to the misery that so completely en- shrouds my very soul ! Naught but an additional reason for burying the secret which has again become my constant thought ! Striking new terror to my overburdened heart ! ( Suddenly stops . Rings table bell.) I must not allow my- self to become overpowered by these thoughts. Stop music. Enter Din., door , L. 3 E. Din. Heah I is, ma’am. Ver. Has my letter been delivered to Mr. Spofford? Din. Yes, indeed, ma’am. Ver. Very well. A little fresh air may be of benefit to me. You may order up the carriage, and remember, I am at home to no one. {Exit, door, R. 2 E.) Din. Poah missus ! I wonder wat she worry ’bout all vIM U* i THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 13 de time? I bet if I had all her money, I wouldn't worry 'bout nuffin'. Enter Mo., door L. 3 E., dressed in Salvation Army suit . Mo. ( sings a line of “Glory Hallelujah!") . Din. Now what you been up to? Mo. Dinah, I'se reformed. 'Deed I has. I’se j'inea de Salvation Army. Din. Salvation nuffin'! You can't come no such game as dat on me. You'se been stealin' agin, dat's wat's de matter, an' all you could lay yer han's on was dat coat an’ cap an' umbrella. You better hurry up an' take 'em back foah you gits arrested agin. Mo. You's talkin' foolish, woman. I aint done nuffin' ter git arrested fer. You jes' wait till de Salvation Army comes around agin, an' see ef I aint a member. Din. Member nuffin' ! You couldn't convince me dat you'se reformed, not ef you stand dere an' swear on a stack of bibles as high as you head. Why, you low down, good- fo'-nuffinf nigger scamp ! Dere ain't no moah salvation in you den dey is in a rotten egg. Mo. Say, where's you missus ? Din. What you want wif my missus? Mo. I done got a answer fer her. Din. Gin it ter me. Mo. No, I was to deliver it to her pussonally. Din. Gin it ter me, I say ! Mo. Go on, woman. Doan you get me inter no trouble, I guess I knows wat I'se done told ter do. Din. Well, I'll call her, but you stay right here, an' mind yer keep yer han's off'n things, d'ye hear? (Exit, door T R. 2 E.) Mo. ( Looks around cautiously, then removes laces, rib- bons, etc., from table and escritoire and stuffs them into the umbrella, constantly on the watch, going to window, look- ing out, etc. Finally hears a noise, goes dozvn L. Seats himself with the umbrella between his legs.) Enter Ver. R. 2 E. 14 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. Ver. My servant tells me you have a message for me. Mo. Yas’m. Ver. She said it was something in reference to the Sal- vation — — • Mo. Yes’m. Your salvation. Ver. My salvation! What do you mean? Mo. ( holding out letter ). Does you remember dis yeah envelope ? Ver. My letter! Give it to me! Mo. Yes’m. ( Putting it in his pocket .) But how much is I goin’ ter git fer givin’ it ter yer? Ver. ( surprised at his change of manner ). What do you mean ? Mo. Jes’ wat I done tole yer. How much is you gwine ter pay fer it? Ver. Give me that letter instantly, or I shall call for help. Mo. ( jumping between her and door , R. 2 E.). None obi dat! Now, see here, lady, I doan mean no harm to yer* but I done knows all about wat’s in dat letter, an’ I done reckon it’s worth about one hundred dollars to you, same, as ’tis ter me. Ver. (angered). A hundred dollars? (Aside.) The secret of my life in such hands! (To Mo.) And if I re- fuse? (See light plot.) Mo. Den I specs I better be movin’ on. Hurry music , pp., till curtain. Ver. This is a shameful outrage, but since you persist' in taking such an unfair advantage of me, I suppose I musti submit. (Goes to escritoire. Takes a key and unlocks a drawer. ) Mo. (aside). I wish she’d be quick afore “Second Story Bill” comes. He’d kill me if he caught me workin’ dis gag on de side. Ver. Bring me the letter, and you shall have your re- ward. Mo. (aside.) I was a fool not to ask her twice as much. (To Ver.) Look-a-yere, missus, de market price done gone THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 15 up. Dat letter gwine ter cost yer jes’ twice as much as — * ( During this speech he goes up to Ver.) Ver. ( Suddenly turns and shoves a revolver in his face j. Give me that letter ! Mo. ( starting back in alarm). Yas’m. I gib you de let- ter. Dat what I came fer. Ver. Quick! The letter! Mo. ( trembling ). Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! ( Busi- ness of trying to take letter from his pocket, but his hand trembles, so that he cannot do so.) Ches. appears at window. Ver. Hurry up ! Mo. Don’t shoot! ( Trembling .) Don’t shoot! Ches. ( coming down, grabs revolver from Ver.). Allow me. ( Lays revolver on escritoire.) Ver. {perceiving Ches., screams). Ches. {perceiving Ver.). Well! This is a surprise! Ver. What! You! Alive! Ches. Why not? Did you think and hope that, my days of usefulness being ended, I had departed for another sphere ? V er. Go ! Do you hear ? Go ! Do not dare to remain or I shall call for help. Ches. Why call for help when I am here? Ver. You? Ches. Oh, now, don’t be unreasonable. My coming here was purely accidental, but now that I am here, let us forget the past and start life all over again. Ver. No, never again! Ches. Now, Vera, don’t be stubborn. {Advances toward her.) Ver. {recoiling) . No, no, I say! Ches. {throzvs his arms around Vera). Ver. {struggling). Let me go! Let me go, I say! Mo. Doan make so much noise! Youse’ll hab de cops in yere de nex’ t’ing yo’ knows! {Going up A Ches. {savagely). Come back, you fool! Mind the 16 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW door, and let no one in. (To Vera) Now, you keep quiet, or I'll— Ver. (breaking from him). Help! Help! Enter Reg., through window. Ver. Save me! Help! (Falls at Reginald's feet.) Reg. (snatches revolver from escritoire). Ches. ( recoils , then recovers and starts toward Vera). Reg. Another step and I fire ! (Pointing revolver at Ches.) Ver. (arising.) No, no! For my sake, don't fire. (Springs in front of Reg.) Mo. No! For all our sakes, don't fire. (Raises the um- brella as if to protect himself , and the laces , ribbons , etc., fall all over him.) Reg. (gently putting Ver. aside, advances toward Ches.). What are you doing here? Ches. (pointing to Ver.). Perhaps the lady would pre- fer to answer. Ver. (buries her face in her hands and sobs). Ches. No? Well, then, if she will not speak, I suppose I must! (Insolently.) I am here by the right of a hus- band! (Reg. stands thunderstruck. Ches. in triumph. Ver. with head bowed , cowers with shame. Mo. nearly faints from surprise. ) \ Swell music to ff. QUICK CURTAIN. THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 17 ACT II. Scene — Same as Act I. One year is supposed to have elapsed between Acts I. and II. Plaintive music at rise. Discovered, Ver. and Cues. Ver. Is this persecution never to cease ? You promised never to bother me again, in consideration of the sum of money I gave you the last time we met. Ches. But that was a year ago. Ver. Just a year ago to-day. Ches. Many * things have changed in that time. My good resolution was one of them. I should not have both- ered you if it were not necessary. It is imperative that I secure a large sum of money at once. Ver. The same old story. Ches. If you will furnish me the amount, I will promise that you shall never see me again. Ver. You forget that your promises can have no weight with me. And even if they did, I have no money to offer you. Ches. You can get it if you want to. Ver. Impossible ! And even so, why is it that I should be constantly expected to suffer from your misdoings? Have you no shame at all? Ches. Why should I? Ver. No, it is evident that you have none. As I look back on your past life, I can see absolutely no evidence of any feeling whatsoever except an all absorbing selfishness, which has undoubtedly hastened your downfall. Do you realize what our family'has done for you ? Do you remember how, when an orphan, you were taken in by my father and treated like a son? Do you remember that you repaid his kindness by robbing him of the affections of his only daugh- ter, whom you influenced to elope — 18 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. Ches. Yes, we were married secretly, afterward for- given, and as pater did not see fit to supply us with suffi- cient funds for our proper maintenance, it became necessary for me to devise other methods of obtaining money— Ver. Which proved to be but a revival of the vicious habits to which you had grown accustomed, and to conceal which you married me, merely as a blind to protect yourself. Ches. You are not at all complimentary to yourself. Ver. Then as a last resort you turned to forgery — Ches. That will do! I paid the penalty of that crime, and thus earned the right to forget it. At any rate, it has nothing to do with my present position. I repeat that I need money — I must have it, and you are in a position to help me. Ver. I say it is impossible ! Ches. You must ! Ver. I shall not! Ches. ( seizing her). You will, or — Ver. (firmly). Well? Or — ? Ches. Take care how you taunt me ! I am rapidly los- ing my patience ! Ver. I do not fear you. Ches. Well, by heaven, you shall! Til look up this fel- low Spofford and tell him all! Ver. You may do so if you like. I have neither seen nor communicated with Mr. Spofford since that unhappy day of a year ago, and the only deviation from my other- wise uninterrupted seclusion has been your unwelcome in- trusion of to-day, which I trust you will abbreviate as much as possible. (Exit, door R. 2 E.) Stop music. Ches. (astounded). Well! Am I dreaming? She de- fies me completely, but I must either persuade her to yield or resort to harsh methods ! That amount of money stands between me and a new life with one who has no knowledge of my past, one who will bring me the combined attractions of youth, beauty and fortune. I must see Vera again. She absolutely will have to raise that money for me, and that’s all there is to it! (Rings table bell.) THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 19 Enter Mo v door L. 3 E . Mo. Did you ring, sah ? Ches. Yes. I desire to see your mistress at once. Mo. Yaas, sah. What am de name, sah? Ches. Well, if it ain’t “Nigger Mose,” and asking me what my name it. That’s a good joke. Mo. I ain’t “Nigger Mose” no moah. I’se reformed, I is. Jes’ plain “Mose” now. Ches. Reformed, nothing! You’d crack a safe this min- ute, if you only had a chance. Mo. Doan talk to me ’bout “crackin’ safes” an’ sich like, man. I tell yo’ I is reformed, an’ doan hab nuffin’ ter do wif any sich things, so go long an’ doan talk dat way ter me. {Exit door R. 2 E.) Ches. Well! The world must be coming to an end! And to think of “Nigger Mose” coming the sanctimonious gag on me, after all the queer jobs we’ve worked together. I’d better hurry up and see Vera or the first thing I know I’ll be reforming myself before I get that money. {Exit, door R . 2 £.) Enter Din., door L. 3 E., showing in Mrs. Spofford and Lillian. Din. Yaas’m. Too bad. Missus jes’ gone out, but if you’ll jes’ hab a seat fer a few minutes, I done spec she’ll be back by dat time. Mrs. Spofford. Very well. We will wait a few mo- ments. Din. T’ank ye, ma’am. I done send up de missus, jes’ as soon as she come back. {Exit, door L. 3 £.) Lillian. Oh, I’m so glad I have found Vera at last. She always was a regular sister to me. Talk about “good fellows !” She was certainly a “peach !” Mrs. S. A “peach?” Such slang expressions! And from an heiress ! Now, when I was a girl Lil. Yes, but you must remember that times have changed very materially since that epoch. Mrs. S. I am very much afraid they have, and for the worse. THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. Lil. Why, I won’t be able to talk at all very soon, tf you persist in “jumping on me” every time I open my mouth ! Mrs. S. “Jumping on you!” Worse and worse! Lil. Well, “calling me down,” then, if that suits you any better. Say, was cousin “Reggie” “dead gone” on Vera? Mrs. S. “Dead gone?” Mercy on us! Lil. Oh, well, I suppose I should say “deeply attached.” Mrs. S. He was certainly madly enough in love to enter upon a perfect debauch of recklessness that nearly broke my heart. Lil. But dear Vera wasn’t to blame for that. Mrs. S. It is true that I may have judged her rather harshly, but nevertheless she must have been in a certain degree responsible for his continued absence from home. Lil. Oh, he kept out of sight because I was around. You were trying to compel him to marry me — a happening •• which neither he nor I could “find on our maps.” That is, “not so’s you could hardly notice it.” MrS'. S. You seem to forget that it is my duty to see i that the finances of the family are suitably settled in the proper hands before I depart this life. Lil. Which is a long way off, yet. Anyhow, give things a chance and they will “swing into line” all right in time. Mrs. S. We had better be going. Mrs. Stanley may call upon us to-morrow. Lil. Well, I expect to see her to-night, if I have to come; back and “camp out.” i Enter Ches., door R. 2 E. Ches. (to Lil.). Why, Miss Stanhope, this is a most unexpected pleasure. (Aside.) I wonder what she is do- ing here? Lil. (Shaking hands with Ches.). I’m delighted to see you. (To Mrs. S.) Aunty, have you forgotten Mr. La Grange ? Mrs. S- (coldly surveying Ches. through her eyeglass). Oh, yes, Mr. La Grange, I believe, was the gentleman who tuned the piano so nicely. THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 2i Lil. (disgustedly) . “Tuned the piano? Why, he saved my life by carrying me down the ladder when the hotel was on fire. Mrs. S. Oh, yes. That was the time your diamonds were stolen, and the police insisted it must have been done by somebody who was accustomed to climbing up to the second story. I think they designated him as “Second-story Wil- liam,' ” or something of that sort. Ches. (aside) . She is closer to the truth than she thinks for. Lil. You must be sure to call upon us, Mr. La Grange. Aunty will be so pleased, Fm sure. Won’t you, Aunty? (Mrs. S. looks bored.) I shall expect you soon. Now, don’t forget. Mrs. S. Really, you must ask Mr. Strange (Lil. smiles at Ches.) to excuse you. (To Ches.) You may tell Mrs. Stanley that we called. (Exit grandly , door L. 3 E.) Ches. (aside). She evidently takes me for a servant. Lil. (to Ches.) Don’t mind Aunty. She means all right. Call to-morrow if you can. You have the address Till then, au revoir. (Exit, door L. 3 E.) Enter Din v door R. 2 E. Din. Mrs. Stanley hab returned and will be here right away quick. Ches. The ladies have gone. (Aside.) I must see to it that Lillian and Vera do not meet, or it will be all off with me. I wonder what cursed fate brought them together. Well, I have removed obstacles from my path before now. and if Vera Stanley comes between me and that girl, I’ll (Perceives that Din. has not gone.) I thought I told yovi the ladies had gone. Din. So yo’ did, sure ’nuff. Ches. (aside, shrugging his shoulders) . I forgot that I had no place here, even though I am the lady’s husband. Curse her! She shall give me that money, or I’ll (Per- ceives Din. still watching him, surveys her in a disgusted manner , and exit, door L. 3 E.) Din. I wondah what he standin’ ’roun’ heah mumblin' to 22 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. hisse f bout ? He may be all right, but I’se gwine ter keep my eye peeled on him, jes’ the same. {Exit, door L. 3 E.) Enter Vera and Henry Swart wood, door R. 2 E. Henry. You say that your husband is at present in the house ? Ver. He was here when I left. But I rather you would spare my feelings sufficiently not to remind me of my mar- riage to the gentleman. Hen. . Oh, I see. (Aside.) There is something strange about this case. (To Ver.) But you say he persists in an- noying you ? Ver. Only at long intervals, when he runs out of money. Hen. Oh, I see ; the cashbox is the attraction. Ver. Exactly. But there is a limit to all things. I have supplied him with funds until I realize that such a thing is no longer possible, and I wish him to keep away from me. Hen. Quite natural. , Ver. I wish him no harm— he is guilty of no especial wrongdoing. I just do not want to meet him again, that is all. Hen. All of which is quite right, But you must remem- ber that no matter how clear your case may be, yet the police are powerless to protect you unless you can enter some spe- cific charge against him. Some crime, or misdemeanor — then I can arrest him. Ver. But I have already explained Hen. Yes, I know. But the object of the police depart- \ ment is to prevent crime, and it cannot deviate from its course for the purpose of investigating family squabbles. • ] Ver. Then I can secure no redress whatever? Hen. You can bring suit against him in the civil courts. Ver. But look at the notoriety Hen. That’s what people get for not being more careful about whom they marry. .Ver. And I had hoped for deliverance from his in- | trigues ! Hen. (aside). Intrigues, eh? (To Ver.) Well, I’ll do all I can to help you. Have you got a photograph of th^ gent? THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 23 Ver. I have one taken some years ago. Hen. Well, that’ll help some. Ver. I will get it at once. Take a seat, won’t you? I shan’t be a moment. {Exit, door R. 2 E.) Hen. There’s something she’s keeping back about that husband of hers. If he ain’t a crook, why, I’ll eat my hat. {Looks the room over carefully , and sits , facing door R .) Enter Ches., door L. 3 E. Ches. {coming down , perceives Hen.) I beg your par- don I did not know any one was here. Hen. That’s all right. Take a sit-down. The lady’ll be back directly. {Aside.) I wonder if he’s the “duck” that :auses all the trouble ? Ches. {aside). I wonder who he is? {Walks about L., humming or whistling to himself.) Hen. {sizing up Ches.) {Aside.) Height, five foot- eight {These items of identification should be made to con- form with the party playing the part of Ches.), brown hair, brown eyes, weight about — hum — seems to me I’ve seen that guy before. Ches. {aside). He’s got his lamps turned on me full strength. He makes me nervous. We may have met before. Anyhow, I guess I’ll blow. {To Hen. in a drazding tone.) Mrs. Stanley must have forgotten her appointment with me. I shall have to go or miss a very important engagement. Hen. Any word you want to leave? Ches. Oh, no; it’s nothing important, anyhow. {Aside.) Curse him for coming here at this time! {Exit, carelessly, door L. 3 E.) Hen. Where have I seen him before? {Reflecting.) Ah, I have it! He looks just like a chap we used to call “Second-story Bill.” He disappeared for a couple of years, and — come to think of it, there’s a large reward offered for his capture, by the warden of Sing Sing ! By George ! This is getting interesting ! I wish she’d hurry up. I don’t want Lo lose sight of him. Two thousand dollars isn’t to be picked iip every day ! 24 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. Enter Ver., door R. 2 E. Ver. ( handing photo to Hen.) Here is the picture, sir. Hen. {taking photo). Hum — nice looking chap — too bad you couldn’t get along nicely together. (Aside.) It’s a pic- ture of the fellow that was just here, and he’s “Second-story Bill” just as sure as I’m alive ! V er. Did you ever meet him ? Hen. No, lady, not as I knows of — but I’d like to. (Aside.) I’ll take this picture and compare it with the one at police ^headquarters, and if it is him, I’ll start out on a ‘.hot-foot ’ for fair until I get him in my clutches. Ver. Will the photo be of any assistance to you ? Hen. Yes, lady; I’ll just take it along. Then if I sees a fellow what looks like this a-hanging around here, I can come and drive him away. Sort of shake mv apron at him and say “Shoo !” you know. Good-day, lady. I’ll see you again in a day or so, and meanwhile, if he bothers you any; more, you just send for me, and don’t forget to keep him here until I come. I’ll give him a good talking to, and may- be able to influence him to stay away from here, (aside) especially if I gets the handcuffs on him. (To Ver.) Good- day, lady. (Exit door L. 3 E.) Plaintive music, pp. Ver. (to Hen.) Good day, sir. (Aside.) I wonder what will be the outcome of all this? Little do you realize, Ches- ter La Grange, how hard I have struggled to save you from, the grim embrace of the prison walls, and heaven only knows, how much longer I shall be able to protect you, before the law takes you into its own hands, and metes out to you the' punishment which you so richly deserve ! Oh, if it were only all over ! ( Half falls into chair, L. ) Enter Lil., door L. 3 E. Lil. (placing her hands over Vera’s eyes) . Guess who it is. Ver. Dinah, is that you? Lil. No ; guess again. Ver. I’m afraid I cannot. THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 25 Lil. Well, you’re a nice one not to remember your old playfellow. ( Kisses Ver.) Now, do you remember me? {See light plot.) Stop music. Ver. Why, Lillian, this is indeed a surprise! Lil. Yes ; mighty little you care. Why didn’t you let me know you were here ? Why, I never should have found you if it were not for Aunty. Ver. Aunty? Lil. Sure. My Aunty is Mrs. Spofford, “Reggie’s” mother. Ver. His mother? ( Turns away as if to hide her emo- tion . ) Lil. There ! Don’t mind me. I know all about it. It certainly made a hit with me, when I found out that you were a widow. Why, it seems only yesterday that we were at school together. It’s perfectly dreadful that he should have died so young. Ver. {aside). Died? She cannot know! Lil. Vera, what do you think? I’m caught, too. Ver. What do you mean? Lil. Why, in love, you goose ! And what do you think ? We both simply adore each other, and it’s no marriage for money, nor anything of that sort, either. Ver. {endeavoring to conceal her emotion). You will marry Reginald, of course? Lil. Of course not ! Why, I don’t see how you can even suggest such a thing! You never would even believe that we were cousins if you could see how indifferent we are to each other. Why, the very idea! And “Reggy” just dying of love for you ! Why, do you know that Aunty called here with me to-day? And she has no objections to “Reggy” marrying you, if he’ll only come back home and become reconciled to his fond mamma, and you’re going to get mar- ried, and I’m going to get married, and we’ll have a double wedding, and (Ver. starts.) Why, what is the matter? Ver. Please stop. You do not know what you are say- ing. Reginald and I can never marry ! Lil. Oh, don’t say that ! If you only knew how much 26 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. you are to him ! Think of the reckless dissipation which ha: so completely overcome him since you cut him off! I’n sure he would be just as good as could be if vou would onh have him. Ver. Lillian! I beg of you to drop the subject! Ever) word you say is perfect forture to me ! Lil. Of course, if you don’t care for him, that settles it ; but I am really awfully sorry for poor “Reggy.” Ver. ( deftly changing the subject). You have not told me about your own love affair. When and how did it all happen ? Lil. (laughing). It sounds quite like a paper-back thriller — or rather, a sensational melodrama. Scene, a hotel at Long Branch— young maiden asleep in her room— that’s me. Sudden alarm of fire — smoke— flames, etc. Maid- en awakens rushes to window and screams — no response — ■ screams again — ladder appears at window — gallant hern ascends ladder— frightened maiden falls into his arms, and is borne to safety amid the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd below. j Ve r . And the young maiden promptly fell in love with her “hero,” who was at once accepted as a suitor for her hand. Lil. Well, I should say not! No such luck! The young maiden was immediately snatched away by an over-zealous guardian of an Aunty, and put to bed in another room, while the “hero” was extended thanks in the shape of a reprimand for daring to hold me in his arms, although Aunty had some excuse for being cross, for during the ex- citement my diamonds were stolen from my room. Ver. Undoubtedly the fire was originally started by the thief as an excuse for robbery. (f Lil. Yes. They say it was done by a fellow called Second Story Johnny,” or something of that sort. Ver. (starting at the name — recovers her composure). But did you not meet your “hero” again ? Lil. Sure. I met him the next morning on the veranda, and —and — well, he suggested the idea our going to fires togeth- er for the rest of our lives, and all that sort of thing, you THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 27 know, and, of course, I wished there would be another fire that night, so he could rescue me again, and he popped the question, and I said “Yes,” of course, and just then Aunty came up, and that was about all. Ver. And did your aunt favor your engagement? Lil. Well, I hope you don’t think I was fool enough to tell her! She doesn’t know anything about it. Ver. Why, you don’t mean to say that you are deceiving her? Lil. Well, you see, I didn’t know just how to go about it. You know, he is of a good family, “poor but proud,” and, of course, there’s going to be a kick when Aunty finds out about the “poor” part of it, so I thought that if you could only tell her for me Ver. No, no! I couldn’t tell her. Lil. Why, you know you could, just as easy as not. Pshaw! What is it to tell an aunt that her niece is going to marry a hero? Come, now, be a good fellow. Ver. No; I shall not even meet your aunt. Lil. Very well. I’ll elope, and not let her know any- thing about it, until we are married and settled down. Plaintive music , pp. Ver. Lillian, dear, you must not do anything of the sort. If you only knew how many there are who in the inex- perience of youth have been influenced to set aside the ad- vice of those older than themselves, and to reject the love and affection of parents and friends for the sake of a mere passing thought from a heartless adventurer — who have awakened too late to the dread realities of their position, only to find themselves doomed to a life of misery and despair. Lil. Oh, Vera, do not suggest such thoughts of him. Look at his portrait — see how noble he is, and then admit the wrong you have done him. ( Removes locket from chain and hands to Ver.) Ver. ( taking locket ). One cannot judge nobility from the face. It must be a happy combination of every word, look and deed. ( Moves R. so as to hold locket in the light from the grate.) 28 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. Lil. If you only knew how good he is. Ver. ( with her back to Lil., looks at locket and screams} . (Aside.) My husband! ( Drops locket .) Lil. ( picking up locket). What is the matter? Ver. Nothing; only a pain here! (Places her hand on her heart and falls into a chair.) Lil. Shall I ring for the servant? Ver. No, no! I shall be all right directly. I’ll lie down for a few moments. (Rises slozvly and starts for door R. Nearly falls.) Lil. (catches her and assists her to exit, door R. 2 E. Returning, and looking off, door R.) There, dear, rest awhile. I’ll make myself at home until you are feeling bet- ter. (Removes her hat and places it on escritoire. Rear- ranges her hair in front of mirror. Examines various arti- cles on escritoire and table. Looks out door R.) Are you feeling better, dear? Why, she’s fallen asleep! Poor, dear girl ! Something has occurred to make her very unhappy ! Perhaps she thinks more of “Reggie” than she is willing to admit. I bet she wouldn’t be unhappy if she was engaged to as nice a fellow as I am. (Sits in large armchair, in front of grate.) I wonder if Vera got a good look at his picture. (Looking at portrait in locket.) Dear boy! I hope I shall see him to-morrow. (Looks steadily at portrait, kisses it, etc. Gradually falls asleep.) Change music to tremolo, pp. Swell at curtain. Ready, Ches. at window C. Ches. (after a pause, pushes back the curtains, looks into the room carefully to see if the coast is clear, slowly enters and pauses ). She is asleep. Now is my chance to get the money and rid myself of her forever! (Goes to escritoire and cautiously opens the drawers and examines contents. Finds one locked and pries it open. Takes out necklace and holds it up.) Ah! now we are getting at it. (Lil. moves uneasily in the chair. Ches. starts, drops the necklace, and draws a knife from his coat.) She is waking up, eh? Well, we’ll soon fix that! (Stealthily tiptoes behind Lil.) THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 29 Enter Ver., door R. 2 E. Ver. ( perceives Ches. and follows him with quick, noise- less-steps, and just as he is about to strike Lil. with the knife, she grasps his wrist. Cues, turns in alarm, drops the knife and looks in amazement from Ver. to Lil. The noise if the knife dropping partially awakens Lil., who turns as f disturbed, disclosing her face to Ches., who draws back 'n horror. Ver. points to window as if commanding Ches. '0 exit, and he is so affected by the possibility of his having killed Lil. that he gradually obeys her, and slozvly backs up C. and starts to exit through the window. Ver. retains her commanding pose. Lil. sleeps soundly. Ches. at window, ib out to exit. Picture.) QUICK CURTAIN. ACT III. Scene — A Rocky Pass. Palisades of the Hudson. Land- scape backing. Huge set rocks or rock wings, up back. Wood wings, R. and L. See Scene Plot for stage settings. Lively music until curtain up. Enter Hen. and Mo., R. 2 E. Hen. Now, there’s no use of your trying to back out of this deal. You’ve got to help me land “Second Story Bill’’ behind the bars, and that’s all there is to it. Mo. ( shaking with fear). But, Marse Swartwood, Bill is a desp’ate character. He done knowed I’se reformed, an’ when he see me he done gwine ter shoot me, suah’s you born. He alius did shoot fust an’ ask his questions after- wards. Hen. Oh, bosh! There ain’t anybody goin’ to shoot you, if you do as I tell you. In fact, he’ll be so taken by surprise, I reckon there won’t he no shootin’ done at all. Mo. ( blubbering ). Oh, please, Marse Swartwood, I done 30 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. want ter go home ! Dinah’ll skin me alive when she find oul I done gone out yere without fust askin’ her. Hen. You seem to forget that you are wanted back ir the penitentiary, where there is a good, long, unfinished term waitin’ for you. Mo. Oh, Lawd! Don’t say nuffin’ ’bout dat! Hen. They’d shoot you in a minute, if they couldn’t gel you alive Mo. Oh, Lawdy ! Lawdy ! Please don’t tell nobody whc I is ! Hen. Then stop your cussed blubbering, and do all you can to help me, and nobody’ll be the wiser ; but if you fail mie or get the least bit treacherous, I’ll land you back in prison, if it’s the last thing I ever do. Mo. I do it, Marse, I do it! Only don’t say nuffin 5 moah ’bout dat prison business. Doan tell nobody who I is ! Please, Marse ! Hen. Now, when was the last time you saw “Second Story Bill”? Mo. Yisterday afternoon, when he call to see de missus; Hen. Just before I recognized you, eh? Mo. Yes, Marse Swartwood; I recomember. He^n. ( taking a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and showing them to Mo.). Do you know what these are? Mo. ( terrified ). Oh, Lawdy! Lawdy! Take ’em away* Take ’em away! Hen. They’re to go on our friend Bill, but if you don’t mind just what I say, they’ll go on you instead. Mo. Oh, Marse Swartwood, I do it ! ’Deed I will ! Hen. . Hush ! Here comes somebody ! Get out there behind a tree, and don’t let anybody see you. And, mind you, stay there until I call you. ( Shoves Mo. off L. 2 E.) I wonder who this fellow is? I hope he won’t stay around here long enough to interfere with my plans. Enter Peg., R. 2 E. Reg. (to Hen.). Pardon me, sir; but am T addressing Mr. La Grange? THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 31 Hen. {aside). Aha! I wonder what his game is? {To Reg.) What do you want with La Grange? Reg. I fail to see of what interest that can be to you* unless you are Mr. La Grange. Hen. It is of more interest than you think for. But first of all, let me inquire your name. Reg. {stiffly). I have the honor to be the young lady’s cousin. Hen. {aside). So there is a woman in the case, eh? {To Reg.) What young lady? Reg. Say, who are you, anyway? Hen. You’ll find out soon enough. All that’s neces- sary fer me to say now is that I am on to this little game with both feet. Reg. Game? What do you mean? Hen. {eyeing Reg. sharply). Do you mean to say that you don’t know ? Reg. No ; I must confess that I do not. Hen. Oh, come, now ; you may as well own up. He’s sure to be caught, anyway. Reg. Caught? Who is going to be caught, and what for? Hen. {aside). This guy is either very slick with the “sanctimonious” gag, or else very innocent. Reg. Well, since you prefer not to explain your mys- terious allusions, and, in fact, seem to regard me with some suspicion, for some reason quite unknown to me, permit me to introduce myself, with the hope that my position in life may be a sufficient guarantee that I am in no way con- nected with any affair you may have reference to, that is in any degree of a questionable nature. {Hands his card to Hen.) Hen. {taking card , reads). Reginald Spofford? Why, You’re just the chap I was anxious to meet! And to think I was fool enough to connect you with such an affair as ihis ! Reg. Now that you seem confident as to whom you are addressing, I trust that you will honor me with an explana- ^ion of the “affair” to which you allude. 32 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. Hen. ( confidentially ). Hush! I am Swartwood, of the Central (Office. Reg. Then, as I naturally inferred, you are a detective? Hen. Exactly. You are acquainted with Mrs. Stanley? Reg. {starting). Yes; but what has that to do with you? Hen. Nothing, much. Only I found that out shortly after I undertook the job, and naturally inferred that you were very much interested in her welfare. Reg. {anxiously) . Tell me, has anything happened? Hen. No ; but I expect a great deal to happen very shortly. Reg. Do not hesitate to tell me all. I may be of some assistance to you. Hen. Did you ever hear of a fellow called “Second Story Bill?” Reg. No; I must say that I did not. Hen. Well, he is her husband. Reg. Whose husband? Hen. Why, Mrs. Stanley’s, of course. Reg. Well ! And how did he ever come by such a natm as that? Hen. Huh ! Ain’t you on ? Reg. No; I must say that I am not. Hen. Why, a “second-story man” is a fellow who makes a specialty of breaking in houses by way of the sec- ond-story windows. Reg. I begin to understand you. You mean to say that Mrs. Stanley’s husband is a thief? Hen. Yes, who’s wanted at a dozen different places, more especially at the prison which he escaped from about a year ago. Reg. {aside). That explains Vera’s dreaded secret. Hen. But I don’t think she knows it. She merely ac- cused him of annoying her by his constant demands for money. She didn’t say nothing about his criminal career. Reg. {aside). For some reason Vera is trying to shield him. Hen. Who is the lady you mentioned as being your cousin? THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 33 Reg. Lillian Stanhope. Hen. Oh, yes ! She called upon Mrs. Stanley yesterday m company with your mother. Reg. Yes. Hen. What has she to do with La Grange? Reg. She expects to marry him, that’s all. Hen. What ! Reg. Fearing my mother’s objection to the match, she ; consented to meet him at this place, but changed her mind and desired me to request him to come directly to the house. Hen. Well, this is the limit! Say, do you know who this La Grange is ? Reg. No ; I never had the pleasure of meeting him. Hen. Well, he and “Second Story Bill” are one and the same person. Reg. (amazed). What? Hen. Yesterday when Mrs. Stanley asked me to help rid her of his annoyances, I asked her to show me his photo. 1 at once recognized it as a true likeness of “Second Story Bill,” but to be certain of my man I took the photo to head- quarters and compared with the one on exhibition there. Then, being sure of what I was about, I started out on a hunt for him, and learned that he had assumed the name of La Grange, and had a date to meet some gal here this afternoon, and I am here ahead of time, prepared to nab him the minute he shows up. Reg. (aside). Poor Vera and poor Lillian! Hen. Now, the next question is, can I count on your assistance ? Reg. Under the circumstances you could hardly find a more willing assistant. Hen. Good! (Looking off , R.). Why, here comes a gal now. Is she your cousin ? Reg. (looking off , R.). Yes. She must have grown im- patient. Hen. Well, let’s conceal ourselves. If she’s here, he’s sure to show up pretty soon. (They exit , L. 2 E.) 34 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. Enter Lil., R. 3 £. Lil. ( appears to climb up and dovun over the rocks , and finally comes around to R. 2 E. and thence to C.) I wonder wha| could have happened ? Either Reggy forgot all about coming here to deliver my message, or else Chester has been detained. ( Looking off , R. 2 E.) Why, there comes Vera. I wonder what she can want here? It won’t do to let her see me. After the lecture she gave me last night she’d be likely to tell Aunty the whole thing. (Exit, L. 3 E.) Enter Ver. and Din., R. 3 £. Ver. appears to climb over the same path as Lil. did at her entrance. Din. fol- lows her slowly. Din. Well, dis am de mos’ foolishes t’ing I ever hearn tell of. (Slips.) Idea ob breakin’ you’ neck climbin’ over rocks, when you got a good home ter stay in ! Ver. Hush, Dinah; we’ll soon be there. Din. (slipping again). Soon be somewhere, suah ’nuff. Ole debbil himse’f couldn’t stand straight on dese heah rocks. i Ver. (coming, around C .). I am positive I saw Lillian coming in this direction. I do hope I haven’t missed her. I fear she has arranged a secret meeting with Chester, in spite of my warning. It is almost certain that Detective. Swartwood has identified him as “Second Story Bill,” owing to my carelessness in letting him have that photo, and if he ; should happen to trap him, at this place, in the presence of Lillian, it might involve her in a scandal from which she would be likely to never fully recover. Din. (comes around from R. 2 £., slips and sits down , [ Cf) Well, dog-gone my buttons! I’se done killed myse’f at las’ ! Oh ! Oh ! Now, who’s gwine ter take care ob poah missus ? Ver. (helping Din. up). Come, Dinah, get up. You’re all right yet. Din. (arising). Is I all heah? Ver. (laughing). Why, certainly! Din. No. bones broken? (Feeling of her arms.) Suah I’se all heah? 1 - fm THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 35 ! Ver. There’s absolutely nothing the matter with you, so :ome along, Dinah, before we lose track of Lillian. (Exit, ?. i E.) Din. Ef I slip ag’in I know I die foah suah. (Exit after /er., R. i E.) Enter Lil., L. 3 E. Lil. Well, thank goodness, I missed her, although it ioes seem a pity to be compelled to dodge one’s friends in his manner. I think I’ll just take another peep at his let- er. I may have mistaken the place. (Looking over let - er.) He says he owes “a lot of money.” Well, I can't -eally blame him for that, as he has already told me that le is dreadfully poor, and, anyway, it will help to settle ill arguments about what to do with my money. It’s posi- tively shameful the way people bother folks that happen to ie a little in debt! It’s perfectly lovely of him to say that le is desirous of making me his confidant, and telling me all ibout his troubles. It proves that he has the most implicit rust in me, and wants me to have the same in him. He >ays he will be compelled to leave the country, as he can- lot obtain justice here. Poor boy! I suppose he means to !;ay he has the world against him, or something of that sort. [ wonder if he’ll ask me to go with him? Enter Ches., R. 2 E. Ches. Isn’t my little one somewhat careless to come out lere with such a light gown, without a wrap of some sort ? [’m afraid she hasn’t the proper amount of fear of colds, md doctors, and things of that sort. (Places his rain coal over her shoulders and embraces her lightly and kisses her.) Lil. Oh, I’m so glad to see you ! I was afraid I had jnissed you. Ches. I was obliged to take a round-about way, in order 0 avoid some people I did not care to meet. Lil. Oh, yes, I know. It was those horrid old creditors. Ches. Yes. (Aside.) To say nothing of a few Cen- :ral Office detectives, who were following me. Lil. Oh, how romantic ! Do you know, I feel quite like :he leading lady of the drama, and Aunty and your creditors 36 THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. and a whole lot of other people are the villains of the play. Oh, wouldn't Aunty lay down the law to me if she knew I came out here to meet you ! Ches. It was my only chance to see you. I could not bear to think of going away without one last meeting. Lil. Must you really go away? Ches. My only chance for safety will be on the other side of the Atlantic. To-night I bid farewell to America forever ! Lil. Oh, pshaw ! But why must you go so soon ? Ches. It is imperative that I shall leave immediately. ( Turning to her suddenly.) Shall I be compelled to go alone ? Plaintive music , pp. Lil. ( afraid of herself ). Don't! Don't ask me such questions as that. Ches. Is your love for me strong enough to warrant your breaking the ties which bind you to this place, and to leave with me for another land and assist me in starting life all over again? Lil. If your debts were paid, what would be the neces- sity of leaving this country? Are there not greater oppor- tunities here than anywhere else ? Ches. Quite true. But, “though the wound be cured, there yet remains the scar." No matter how hard we may try to retrieve our past errors, they yet remain as silent wit-; nesses of the past, and cannot help but mar the future. Oft-, times a constant reminder is more galling than the act it- self. Lil. Oh, of course, if you are bound to spend all your time worrying about what has happened in the past, there is very little hope for your future happiness. Can’t you bury the past, and if necessary erect a suitable monument proper- ly inscribed to the memory thereof, and let it go at that ? Ches. Unfortunately, each act of our lives winds itself around our temporary associations like the vine around the tree, which when taken away leaves its impression marked plainly forever. The only possible chance of entirely free- ing one's self from all associations of the past and securing THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 37 a new environment is to avoid all possible chance of any recollection thereof, establishing a new beginning in a land so remote as to preclude all chance of any recurrence of the thoughts that are past. Lil. You saved my life, which convinces me of your courage. Would it not be more in keeping with such a character to remain here with the determination of living down any mistakes of the past? Ches. Alas ! I have tried in vain to do that. It is a use- less task. I have braved the possibility of prison walls for your sake. I feel confident that your influence would make a better man of me. If you really love me, you will not hesi- tate to do as I ask. Lil. But I could not leave without first asking Aunty’s consent. Ches. Why is that necessary ? She is as unforgiving as the rest of the world, and would be certain to advise you against a union with a “man with a past.” Do not delay! Why can you not answer for yourself — and now? Lil. No ! Do not ask me that ! I do care for you — very, very much ; but do not ask me to part from my home and friends in such a manner. They have all been good to me — I cannot leave them without a word of Ches. Then you do not care for me ! Lil. Yes, yes! Very, very much! More than any one else, but Ches. ( putting his arm around her). Then come, before it is too late. We have not a moment to spare. Lil. ( retreating from him). No, I cannot! Change music to hurry , pp. Ches. I have staked all for you ! My very life is in constant danger ! Do not delay ! Once on board the steam- er, we can defy the whole world! ( Grasps Lil. by the waist. She struggles to free herself.) Enter Ver., R. i E. Ver. (to Ches.). Stop! You have crimes enough to answer for, without adding a new one to the list ! 38 the face at the window Lii.. Stop him, Vera! He doesn’t know what he is do- ing! Ver. Stop! Do you hear me? ( Attempts to get be- tween Ches. and Lil.) Ches. Out of my way, woman! ( Pushes Ver. aside.) Ver. I tell you, you shall not take her ! (Grasps Lil. and finally disengages her from Chester’s arms.) Come away from him, Lillian ! His very touch is venomous ! Lil. (amazed). Why, Vera, what is he to you? Ver. He — he is my husband! Ches. It is a lie ! Reg. (calls from off, L.). Vera! Vera! Ches. Aha ! Young Spoff ord, eh ? So he has betrayed me? Ver. ( pointing off, R. i E.). Go! Quick! I will save you ! Ches. (drawing revolver). You lie! It is a scheme you have patched up between you to get me out of the way ! But if my future life is to be ruined, so shall yours! ( Shoots off L., as if at Reg.) Enter Hen., followed by Mo., L. 2 E. Hen. (revolver in hand). Hands up! You are my pris- oner ! Ches. (shoots Hen., who falls, then grasps Lil., and backs up L.) Mo. (falling on his knees). Oh! Please! Marse Bill! Doan shoot! Doan shoot! Enter Mrs. S., R. 2 E., followed by Din., and a number of Villagers. Mrs. S. Lillian! Where is she? Ver. ( pointing to Ches. and Lil.). There! Ches. (holding Lil. in left arm, threatens them with re- volver in right hand. Lil. screams) . Mrs. S. Oh ! Save her ! Save her ! Ches. If you value her life, let no one follow me! If anyone attempts it, she shall die with me! (Starts to back off, L. 3 E.) THE FACE AT THE WINDOW 39 Hen. {recovering, rises on one knee and points revolver it Ches.) Halt, or I’ll shoot! Ches. {placing Lil. in front of him). Shoot if you dare! All. Coward ! Ches. Call me what you like ! I must protect myself ! Who shall stop me now? Reg. {enter L. 3 E.). I will ! {Grabs Ches.’s right arm , thus keeping revolver pointed upward. Ches. releases Lil., Lho runs to Mrs. S. and falls in her arms . Swell music to ff. Reg. and Ches. struggle . Mo. runs up stage , takes re- uolver from Ches. and shoots him. Ches. screams and falls dead.) All {yell). Hurrah! Saved! Hurrah! Din. {down R.). Moses Johnson! You come right hyar pis berry minute! (Mo. puts revolver in pocket and sheep - ily goes to Din., who grabs him by the arm.) You all jes’ wait till I git you home, Ls gwine ter fry you de bigges’ po’k chop what I kin find! {Looks at him admiringly.) Reg. {goes to Ver. and embraces her). Vera, you are free at last! Will you have me now? Ver. {falls back in his arms, smiling at him). Yes! All. Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Change music to lively march at curtain. Quick Curtain. MY DIXIE ROSE By MABEL KEIGHTLEY BENNETT Price, 35 Cents Comedy-drama in 3 acts; 5 men, 3 women. Time, 2^ hours. Scene: 1 interior. Charming, lovable, mischievous Dixie Rose! Life to her seems to be all daring horseback rides and innocent flirtations and rollicking jokes, until trouble crosses her path in the form of a persistent elderly suitor. This sinister person de- mands that she marry him to save her beloved father, a southern colonel of the old school, from financial ruin and disgrace, and her lover from indictment for an offense that later turns out to be “framed.” The lover, however, arrives in time to prevent the hated marriage and forces the plotter to reveal the great secret of Dixie’s identity, namely, that she is the Colonel’s granddaughter and also heiress to a large fortune. A stirring drama, colored by the alluring romance of the old South and the vigorous enterprise of the new. Cast includes: the peppery but soft-hearted old colonel; Dixie’s jealous but devoted lover; his haughty father; a hard, selfish beauty of the adventuress type; and a youthful en- gaged couple, who are perpetually quarreling. MOTHER’S OLD HOME By ORRELLE FIDLAR CORNELIUS Price, 25 Cents Comedy in 1* act; 1 man, 6 women. Time, 35 minutes. Impelled by malicious village gossip, a sweet old-fashioned mother plans to give up her home and live with her married daughter. But finding herself unwelcome and out of sympathy with the younger genera- tion, she remains in the old home among her beloved neighbors. Delightful compound of tears and laughter. T. S. DENISON 8C COMPANY, Publishers 623 S. Wabash Ave., CHICAGO Denison's lavs stand for* Jend for Co^plefe Descriptive Catalogue T.S. Denison & Company Publishers 623 South Wabash Ave. CHICAGO Denison's Monologues Readings TALKATIVE TILLY MI— 229