A Desperate Game: A Comic Drama in One Act

Title: A Desperate Game: A Comic Drama in One Act

Author: John Maddison Morton

Release date: May 11, 2014 [eBook #45628] Most recently updated: October 24, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45628

Credits: Produced by Paul Haxo from page images generously made available by the University of California, the HathiTrust Digital Library, and Google.

[Pg 1]

Title Page

A DESPERATE GAME.

A Comic Drama.

IN ONE ACT.

BY

JOHN MADDISON MORTON,

(Member of the Dramatic Authors’ Society),

AUTHOR OF

Box and Cox, John Dobbs, The Woman I Adore, A Capital Match, Your Life’s in Danger, Who Stole the Pocket Book? Poor Pillicoddy, Friend Waggles, Where there’s a Will there’s a Way, The Writing on the Wall, Betsy Baker, Going to the Derby, My precious Betsy, Slasher and Crasher, The Two Bonnycastles, &c., &c.

THOMAS HAILES LACY,

WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND,

LONDON.

[Pg 2]

First performed at the Theatre Royal Adelphi, on Saturday, April 9th, 1853.

Characters.

Costumes.

CAPTAIN RATCLIFFE.—Green coat, gilt buttons, light waistcoat, black trowsers, with over coat, whiskers, and moustache to take off.

POSTLETHWAITE.—Light drab trowsers, fancy waistcoat, blue shooting coat, green wide-awake. Second dress: Same, muddy.

DAVID.—Old fashioned livery.

MRS. SOMERTON.—Green tarletan ball dress, trimmed with ribbon and flowers.

PEGGY.—Old fashioned housekeeper’s dress.

SCENE—Tunbridge Wells.

Time in Representation—55 minutes.

[Pg 3]

A DESPERATE GAME.

SCENE I.—A Drawing Room at Mrs. Somerton’s; a fire-place at C. with a bell rope on each side of it; doors R. C. and L. C.; above the door R. C. a small window; window R. 2 E.; a clock on the mantel-piece; a work table L., on which is a writing desk; another table in C. of the stage, with papers, books, &c. strewed on it; chairs, &c., &c.; another door at R. 2 E. Stage dark. A loud ringing at door bell heard.

RAT. (outside) Now then, my good friend, a little quicker, if you please. (enters at door, L. C., in over coat, whiskers, and moustache; he is closely followed by DAVID, who carries a lantern)

DAVID. But, zur, zur, don’t ye be in such a hurry.

RAT. (throwing a hasty look round the room, then—aside) Come, I’ve effected an entrance, at all events! so far, so well, provided I’m not compelled to beat a retreat before I’ve accomplished my object. (walks to various parts of room, examining, &c., &c.)

DAVID. (all this time examining RATCLIFFE from head to foot with his lantern—aside) Well, this be about the free and easiest chap I ever cut in with; he almost pulls the gate bell down to begin with, and when I opens the door—thinking in course it’s missus come home—in he walks, and without so much as rubbing his boots on the door mat, tells me to light him up stairs, at four o’clock in the morning, too. (aloud) Who be ye, zur? I know it don’t become a servant to be inquisitive—so if you’ll only tell me who ye be, what ye be, why you come here, what you want here, where you come from, and a few other particklers, I’ll be satisfied and ask no questions.

RAT. (aside) I must get rid of this fellow.

DAVID. If you want missus, she be gone from home. She be at a grand ball, and if she finds you here when she comes home, she’ll blow me up in fine style, as sure as my name’s——

RAT. David!

DAVID. (astonished) He knows my name!

RAT. (turning towards DAVID) Now hark ye, David. There’s nothing more offensive to me, David, than familiarity in a servant, David; but in consideration, David, of your having only recently entered Mrs. Somerton’s service——

DAVID. He knows that, too.

RAT. And you’re being naturally a stupid thick-headed fellow.

[Pg 4]

DAVID. Dang it, he knows all about me.

RAT. I have no objection to look over it this once, but the next time it occurs, David, I shall discharge you, David!

DAVID. Discharge me! You? (suddenly) Lud a mercy—in course, I know who ’ee be now!

RAT. (alarmed) The devil you do.

DAVID. Ees, you be he.

RAT. Oh! I’m he, am I?

DAVID. Ees. I should have known ’ee again directly, only I never seed ’ee before.

RAT. (aside) That’s lucky!

DAVID. Why missus has been expecting of you the last three days. It was only just afore she went out she said to me, “David,” said she, “if my cousin should happen to arrive from London before I get home, show him every attention,” says she!

RAT. (aside) Her cousin, egad! he takes me for that simpleton Percy Postlethwaite; not very complimentary, perhaps, but decidedly lucky! (aloud) Yes, David, here I am, at last; and how is Mrs. Somerton?

DAVID. Mrs. Somerton! is that the way you speak of your cousin? go along, do. (poking RATCLIFFE in the side) Ah! Mr. Percy Postlethwaite, you be a lucky young chap to get such a wife, I can tell ’ee.

RAT. (aside) Wife! so, so, Mr. Percy Postlethwaite, matters are in a more forward state than you led me to believe.

DAVID. You’ll find supper all ready for ’ee in the library, (pointing) so I’ll just light the candles.

RAT. By all means, David. (aside) He does’nt know me.

DAVID. (while lighting the candles) Missus ’ll be mortal glad to see ’ee, and as for Peggy, she won’t know whether she be standing on her head or her heels.

RAT. I’m sure I’m very much obliged to Peggy. (aside) Who’s Peggy?

DAVID. And no wonder; she tells me many’s the time she’s dangled ’ee on her knee, afore ye were breeched; (imitating) but ye know all about that.

RAT. Of course. I’ve the most distinct recollection of everything that happened to me before I was breeched.

DAVID. (having lighted candles) There, and now I’ll go down stairs and wait for missus; and as soon as she comes in, I’ll say to her——

RAT. Not one word, either to her or to Peggy! I wish to give them both an agreeable surprise, David; you understand, eh?

DAVID. (hesitating) I think I do!

RAT. (giving him money) There’s a crown for you—think again.

DAVID. (pocketing money) I’m sure I do! I’ll be as dumb as an oyster. (going—stops) As I said before, supper be all ready in t’other room, (going—stops) and if ’ee want anything you needn’t ring for me, ’cause I be going to take a bit of a snooze before the kitchen fire. (yawning) How sleepy I be to be sure.

Exit at door, L. C.

[Pg 5]

RAT. (watching DAVID out, then goes quickly up and closes the door) Alone at last—now then to work. (takes a pair of pistols from his coat pocket, which he places on table) But first, as ladies invariably fly to the bell ropes to raise an alarm, I must take the liberty of cutting these. (taking knife out of his pocket, and cutting the bell ropes) Now to examine the means of escape, in case of interruption—(opening window and looking out)—the garden—a small conservatory underneath—that’s awkward; but, luckily, there’s an apple tree so conveniently close as to make a very tolerable ladder on an emergency, so far perfectly satisfactory—and if my information is only tolerably correct, and it ought to be considering the trouble I’ve had in obtaining it, (taking small pocket book from his waistcoat and opening it) this door should lead to Mrs. Somerton’s chamber—(opening door at L., and looking in)—exactly, and very elegantly appointed indeed. (closes door, and again looking at his pocket book)—“near the door a

table”—precisely—(laying his hand on the table)—“on the table a small writing desk”—here it is—(laying his hand on the writing desk)—locked, and the key taken out, that of course I expected; but as I have ascertained that between the hours of 12 and 1 yesterday it became the temporary receptacle of a pocket book containing bank notes to the amount of fifteen thousand pounds, it is not likely I should come unprovided with the means of securing such a treasure. (takes out a bunch of small keys, some of which he tries—produces a chisel from his coat pocket, and is about to insert it under the lid of the box, a loud ring at gate bell heard) Mrs. Somerton returned. (runs to door, L. U. E.—ring repeated) Again! Stay—(listening) The window—quick! (runs to window) A man in the garden, and cautiously making towards this window. Who can he be? and what can be his object? Not the same as mine surely—egad, that would be comical enough. If I could only observe—— Ah—that door. (blows out the candle, and gropes his way to door, R.;

at the moment that he enters the room, R., POSTLETHWAITE’S head is seen at the window, R. U. E.)

POS. I’ve done it! I’ve been ringing at the bell long enough, so I’ve been obliged to effect an entrance by the window; (putting one leg over the window sill) and let me observe to the inexperienced in these matters, that the fact of threading one’s way up a densely wooded apple tree on a pitch dark night is a gymnastic feat more easily imagined than accomplished. (gets in at window—he has a carpet bag) However, as I said before, I’ve done it, and what’s more I live to tell it, though I may be allowed to remark that, considering my cousin, Mrs. Somerton, has been expecting me—me, her affianced husband—for the last three nights, I think she might have allowed one of her domestics to sit up for me: however, I’m not going to quarrel with her, no—no—I cannot forget that she’s my cousin, and the only child of my honoured and lamented uncle—I mean aunt—no, uncle—and now that the law suit has been decided in her favour, and that she steps into possession of fifteen thousand pounds, her late husband’s

fortune, I feel that to upbraid her at such a moment would be unmanly.[Pg 6] There’s a spark of fire left in the grate I declare—that’s lucky! I’ll light a candle if I can find one. (feeling about) Here’s one—no, it’s a scent bottle—now I’ve got it—(takes candle, and goes towards fireplace)—and now for a piece of paper. (takes a paper out of his pocket, and about to tear it) Stop—it won’t do to tear this, this is yesterday’s Times, in which I find that my friend Captain Ratcliffe has been appointed to the situation of Chief Superintendent of the Rural Police, of the Western Division of the County of Kent, and as I know he’s been here at Tunbridge Wells for the last week, I’ve determined to find him out, and be the first to congratulate him—this’ll do! (taking another piece of paper, and lighting the candle with it) There—and now—— (seeing a letter on the table, and taking it up) What’s this? “Colonel Boldwig requests the honour—Mrs. Somerton’s company—Thursday evening—quadrilles, &c. &c.” Then she’s

not at home; then, egad, I’ll wait for her here—but not in this costume—no, I’ll just change my coat, et cetera: and, probably, my et cetera requires changing more than my coat, because naturally in ascending a tree one occasionally requires to sit down, consequently, it naturally follows that one’s et cetera, upon which one does sit down—of course, it stands to reason—so here goes. (taking up the candle, carpet bag, and umbrella, and going towards door, R. C., and enters. Scene again dark. At this moment RATCLIFFE opens door at R., enters, moves across on tiptoe, and locks the door at R. C.)

RAT. Come, I’ve got you safe under lock and key, my worthy friend, whoever you are, and now not another moment must be lost. (advances towards the writing desk quickly, L. table)

MRS. S. (without) Don’t be alarmed, David, I forgot to say I had taken the latch key with me.

RAT. Mrs. Somerton’s voice, and no means of escape! Then impudence befriend me! (hurries into room, R.)

Enter MRS. SOMERTON and PEGGY at door, L. U. E.

PEGGY. (who carries a small lantern in her hand, which she places on table) Dear, dear, how my poor old bones do ache.

MRS. S. (throws off her cloak and hood, and appears in a handsome ball costume) Now go to bed at once, my good Peggy, I don’t require you any more.

PEGGY. Yes you do, so sit down there—(making MRS. SOMERTON sit down on a chair)—and now, while I’m taking all these gimcracks and finery out of your hair, you shall tell me all about the grand doings at the ball. I warrant me, what the colonel’s footmen said of you was quite true.

MRS. S. And pray what did the colonel’s footmen say?

PEGGY. They said—— Drat the pin! They said you were the most beautiful lady in the room—that you had handsomer partners than any lady in the room.

MRS. S. Yes—to do them, justice, they fairly danced me off my feet, and yet I am neither grown better tempered, nor better looking, than I was three months ago, when at a previous party[Pg 7] not one of them condescended to select me for a partner; but then, on the other hand, I am fifteen thousand pounds richer.

PEGGY. (suddenly, and giving MRS. SOMERTON’S hair another jerk) That’s it! Ah, ma’am, these lords of the creation, as they call themselves, are but a poor mean selfish set after all.

MRS. S. Selfish! No, not all—(sighing)—there is one at least.

PEGGY. No! Is there?—he must be quite a curiosity! Oh, ma’am, who is he?

MRS. S. It’s a long story, Peggy, and it’s getting late.

PEGGY. It’s never too late to hear good news.

MRS. S. Then listen, Peggy. You remember that about ten months ago I was earnestly advised by my physicians to pay a short visit to the continent.

PEGGY. Yes; and I remember too that you came home quite an altered woman—I never saw hair dressed in such an extraordinary style—never!

MRS. S. Don’t interrupt me. I had been in Paris about three weeks, when one evening on my return from the opera, I found a note on my dressing table, containing these words—“I have seen you, and to see you is to love you. I am young, tolerably handsome, and sufficiently rich, yet as I cannot presume to present myself to you until you permit me to do so, I shall venture to remind you from time to time that I am near you.”

PEGGY. Well I’m sure, Mr. Impudence; and what was the fellow’s name?

MRS. S. There was no name, but merely the initials C. R.

PEGGY. C. R. Samuel something or other I dare say—but he gave his address?

MRS. S. No; simply the words “Post Office, to be left till called for.” Of course, I took no notice of it whatever, and had forgotten the circumstance altogether, when a month afterwards to the very day—the very hour—I was then at Florence, I received a second communication, couched in precisely the same words, and again subsequently at Venice, Naples, and Milan.

PEGGY. Dear, dear, it’s as good as a play! Then you never took any notice of the fellow at all?

MRS. S. Yes; a circumstance, the bare recollection of which makes me shudder even at this lapse of time, compelled me to break through the silence I had hitherto imposed upon myself: in travelling through Switzerland, on my return to England, the carriage which I occupied was one night placed in imminent peril by the restiveness of one of the horses; fortunately, I was asleep, and was not aware of my danger till I was assured of my safety—within a few feet of a fearful precipice, the traces had been cut, by a man who had evidently followed me, judge then of my astonishment when a voice uttered these words in my ear, “You see, madam, I have kept my promise, I am still near you.”

PEGGY. Well, he was a fine brave gentleman, whoever he was; and what was he like—eh?

MRS. S. He had disappeared before I could even thank him for his timely and generous assistance.

[Pg 8]

PEGGY. Well?

MRS. S. Well? (hesitatingly) his next letter, which reached me shortly after my return to England, did not remain unanswered.

PEGGY. I should think not, indeed! and what did you say to Mr. C. R.?

MRS. S. The truth! that my hand was promised to my cousin, Percy Postlethwaite; that his father had once saved mine from ruin, who made me promise, as the only means of testifying his gratitude to the father, to marry the son.

PEGGY. Ah! and that, of course, was a settler for Mr. C. R.

MRS. S. On the contrary, his answer to my letter ran thus:—“Love like mine never despairs. I will still be near you, for I still hope”—and yet for the last two months he has ceased to write.

PEGGY. Of course he has! and high time, too, considering you told him you were Mrs. Postlethwaite, as was to be.

MRS. S. Very true; and yet (after a slight hesitation) no matter, go to bed, Peggy. Good night.

PEGGY. Good night, ma’am. (taking the lantern—aside) Luckily when Master Percy arrives he’ll put all this romantic lackadaisical nonsense out of missus’s head.

Exit at door, L. C.

MRS. S. Yes, while the news of my recent accession to fortune has brought so many admirers to my feet, he, on the contrary, has ceased to think of me.

(MRS. S. seats herself in chair near the work table, L.; RATCLIFFE at the same moment enters and cautiously goes to door, L. C., which he closes. The stage is only dimly lighted)

MRS. S. (hearing the noise of the door closing, and without turning round, as she unclasps her bracelets) Is that you again, Peggy? (not receiving an answer, she turns and sees RATCLIFFE; starts violently, and checking a scream) A man!

RAT. (L.) Do not be alarmed, madam, I beg. (advancing slowly)

MRS. S. (retreating, and in a tone of alarm which she endeavours to repress) Who are you, sir? and why this unseasonable intrusion? I insist on knowing.

RAT. A little patience, my dear madam, and you shall. (observing MRS. SOMERTON, who endeavours to reach the door, L. C.) One moment, madam. Before you summon your servants, allow me to observe that I shall be under the painful necessity of punishing any one who presumes to interrupt so delightful a tete à tete. (slowly taking his pistols from his pocket, and depositing them on the table)

MRS. S. (terrified and aside) He’s armed. (suddenly) Ah! that writing desk—that large sum of money—(placing herself before the table on which the writing desk is, and supporting herself with difficulty)

RAT. Now, madam, (crosses to R. with chair) the sooner I explain the object of this somewhat unceremonious visit, the better. Will you allow me to lead you to a chair? (politely offering his hand to MRS. SOMERTON, who draws back in alarm) Pray, my dear madam let me once more entreat you not to be alarmed. (MRS. SOMERTON[Pg 9] after a slight hesitation, gives him her hand, and he leads her to the chair near table, at C.) Be seated, I beg. (MRS. SOMERTON seats herself. RATCLIFFE about to remove up for another chair, MRS. SOMERTON advancing her hand towards the pistol—stops) Pray be cautious with those pistols, madam; they are hair triggers, and I perceive the muzzles are directly pointed towards you. (goes up to the back for a chair)

MRS. S. (aside and suddenly) If I could but distinguish his features, so as to be able to recognise him. (hastily runs and brings candle from the small table at L., and places it on table before her)

RAT. (coming down with the chair, R.—stops) You’ll pardon me, madam, but having suffered lately from a severe cold in my eyes, this excess of light would be positively distressing to me. (removes the candle to the mantel-piece, L.; then about to seat himself opposite to MRS. SOMERTON) Have I your permission, madam? I thank you! (seats himself)

MRS. S. (aside) Was there ever such unblushing effrontery?

RAT. Now, madam, I will come to the point at once. I am in the immediate want of fifteen thousand pounds. (with marked intention)

MRS. S. (aside) He knows all.

RAT. Which sum, madam, I intend to invest in a speculation, which promises the most advantageous results.

MRS. S. (with affected unconcern) I cannot understand, sir, how the subject you allude to can possibly interest me.

RAT. More than you imagine, my dear madam, for I propose that you shall become my partner in this speculation; in other words, I will find the industry and energy requisite in carrying it into effect, while you simply have to provide the money. (with marked emphasis)

MRS. S. (indignantly) Sir!