CLIFTON. Why poor?

RICHARD. You missed all the best part. You didn't hear what I said to Crawshaw about money before you came.

CLIFTON (thoughtfully). Oh I was it very--(Brightening up) But I expect Uncle Antony heard. (After a pause) Well, I must be getting on. I wonder if you've noticed any important papers lying about, in connection with the Great Missenden Ca.n.a.l Company--a most intricate case, in which my clerk and I--(He has murmured himself across to the fireplace, and the fragments of his important case suddenly catch his eye. He picks up one of the fragments.) Ah, yes. Well, I shall tell my clerk that we lost the case. He will be sorry. He had got quite fond of that ca.n.a.l. (He turns to go, but first says to MERITON) So you're taking the money, Mr.

Meriton?

RICHARD. Yes.

CLIFTON. And Mr. Crawshaw too?

RICHARD. Yes.

CLIFTON (to himself as he goes out). They are both taking it. (He stops and looks up to UNCLE ANTONY with a smile.) Good old Uncle Antony--he knew--he knew! (MERITON stands watching him as he goes.)

THE LUCKY ONE

A PLAY IN THREE ACTS

CHARACTERS.

GERALD FARRINGDON.

BOB FARRINGDON (his elder brother).

SIR JAMES FARRINGDON (his father).

LADY FARRINGDON (his mother).

MISS FARRINGDON (his great-aunt).

PAMELA CAREY (his betrothed).

HENRY WENTWORTH (his friend).

THOMAS TODD (his friend).

LETTY HERBERT (his friend).

MASON (his old nurse).

ACT I. At SIR JAMES FARRINGDON'S in the country.

ACT II. A private hotel in Dover Street. Two months later.

ACT III. At SIR JAMES FARRINGDON'S again. Three months later.

ACT I

[SCENE.--The hall of SIR JAMES FARRINGDON'S house in the country.]

[It is a large and pleasantly unofficial sort of room, used as a meeting-place rather than a resting place. To be in it pledges you to nothing; whereas in the billiard-room you are presumably pledged to billiards. The French windows at the back open on to lawns; the door on the right at the back will take you into the outer hall; the door on the left leads to the servants' quarters; the door on the right in front will disclose other inhabited rooms to you. An oak gallery runs round two sides of the hall and descends in broad and gentle stairs down the right side of it. Four stairs from the bottom it turns round at right angles and deposits you fairly in the hall. Entering in this way, you will see immediately opposite to you the large open fireplace occupied by a pile of unlit logs--for it is summer. There is a chair on each side of the fireplace, but turned now away from it. In the left centre of the hall there is a gate-legged table to which trays with drinks on them, have a habit of finding their way; it is supported on each side by a coffin-stool. A sofa, which will take two strangers comfortably and three friends less comfortably, comes out at right angles to the staircase, but leaves plenty of s.p.a.ce between itself and the stool on its side of the table. Beneath the window on the left of the French windows is a small table on which letters and papers are put; beneath the window on the other side is a writing-table. The walls are decorated impartially with heads of wild animals and of Farringdons.]

[At the present moment the inhabitants of the hall are three. HENRY WENTWORTH, a barrister between forty, and fifty, dressed in rather a serious tweed suit, for a summer day, is on the sofa. THOMAS TODD, an immaculate young gentleman of twenty-five, is half-sitting on the gate-legged table with one foot on the ground and the other swinging. He is dressed in a brown flannel coat and white trousers, shoes and socks, and he has a putter in his hand indicative of his usual line of thought.

The third occupant is the Butler, who, in answer to TOMMY'S ring, has appeared with the drinks.]

[The time is about four o'clock on a June afternoon.]

TOMMY (to the Butler). Thanks, James; just leave it here. [Exit Butler.]

Whisky or lemonade, Wentworth?

WENTWORTH. Neither, thanks, Tommy.

TOMMY. Well, I will. (He pours himself out some lemonade and takes a long drink.) I should have thought you would have been thirsty, driving down from London a day like this. (He finishes his drink.) Let's see, where was I up to? The sixth, wasn't it?

WENTWORTH. The sixth, Tommy. (With resignation) Only twelve more.

TOMMY. Yes, that's right. Well, at the seventh I got an absolutely topping drive, but my approach was sliced a bit. However, I chipped on within about six feet, and was down in four. Gerald took it in three, but I had a stroke, so I halved. Then the eighth I told you about.

WENTWORTH. Was that where you fell into the pond?

TOMMY. No, no; you're thinking of the fifth, where I topped my drive into the pond.

WENTWORTH. I knew the pond came into it somewhere. I hoped--I mean I thought you fell in.

TOMMY. Look here, you _must_ remember the eighth, old chap; that was the one I did in one. Awful bit of luck.

WENTWORTH. Bit of luck for me too, Tommy.

TOMMY. Why?

WENTWORTH. Because now you can hurry on to the ninth.

TOMMY. I say, Wentworth, I thought you were keen on golf.

WENTWORTH. Only on my own.

TOMMY. You're a fraud. Here I've been absolutely wasting my precious time on you and--I suppose it wouldn't even interest you to hear that Gerald went round in seventy-two--five under bogey?

WENTWORTH. It would interest me much more to hear something about this girl he's engaged to.

TOMMY. Pamela Carey? Oh, she's an absolute ripper.

WENTWORTH. Yes, but you've said that of every girl you've met.

TOMMY. Well, dash it! you don't expect me to describe what she looks like, do you?

WENTWORTH. Well, no. I shall see that for myself directly. One gets introduced, you know, Tommy. It isn't as though I were meeting her at Charing Cross Station for the first time. But who is she?

TOMMY. Well, she was poor old Bob's friend originally. He brought her down here, but, of course, as soon as she saw Gerald--