Transcript #6: Kind Hearts and Coronets

Part 2 of 2

Continued from Part 1 of 2

 

RUFUS. I pretended to be deceived by the feint and sent our horse to meet it. At that moment, the concealed enemy emerged from behind the kopje. I held our guns' fire till we could see the whites of their eyes. Used to get a lot of this stuff in the Crimea. One thing the Russkies do really well. [EXPLOSION]

 

 

 

ASCOYNE. One could almost believe there was a curse on our unfortunate family, Mazzini
LOUIS. Indeed, sir, one could.
ASCOYNE. I don't know if you realise how close this series of tragedies has brought you to the succession.
LOUIS. I had not actually given the matter any thought, sir.
ASCOYNE. Then it's time that you did. Do you not realise that you are heir presumptive to the dukedom? That is to say, in the event of the present duke dying without issue, I alone intervene between you and the title. And I am an old man. I have never really recovered from the first of these calamities.
LOUIS. You mean I might become Duke of Chalfont?
ASCOYNE. I mean that you almost certainly will. In view of that, I feel it would be more fitting that you should cease to be an employee here ...
LOUIS. Oh.
ASCOYNE. ... and become instead my partner.
LOUIS. I am most deeply grateful and honoured.
ASCOYNE. If you'll come round here, I will make everything very clear to you. Er, had she lived, your mother, of course, would have succeeded before you.

One of my first tasks as partner was to interview Lionel, who came cap (or rather, silk hat) in hand.

LOUIS. To save time, I presume you have called to ask the renewal of your bill?
LIONEL. The fact is, old boy, we sold short and the market hasn't dropped as we expected.
LOUIS. I feel entitled to point out that we here regard our function as the encouragement of constructive investment and not the financing of mere gambling transactions. Now ...

It would have delighted me to refuse him. However, a bankrupt Lionel could hardly have continued to support Sibella in her extravagances and I had no wish to do so myself.

LOUIS. ... very well. We will renew at three and a half percent.

I judged that the time was now ripe to make a move in the matter of Edith d'Ascoyne.

EDITH. It's becoming cold. Shall we go in?
LOUIS. I know why you shivered just now. It was not because you were cold.
EDITH. No. I couldn't help remembering.
LOUIS. I know. But do you try to forget? I may sound harsh, but believe me ...
EDITH. Please. Not there.
LOUIS. Because it was Henry's chair.
EDITH. It hasn't been used since that day. Nothing of his. Everything is just as he left it, his writing desk, his clothes. I cannot bear that it should be otherwise.
LOUIS. You want this house to be a shrine. You're wrong. Shrines are not meant to house the living. I have always respected you, your principles, your courage, above any woman I've ever met. It is your duty to yourself and to others, to Henry even, to live again in the present, in the future.
EDITH. What future is there for me?
LOUIS. I am now going to say something presumptuous. You must order me from your house if you wish. It is this: If you should ever feel that the constant support of a devoted admirer would be of assistance to you, I should be most honoured if you would permit me to offer you my hand in marriage.
EDITH. Mr Mazzini ... this is a shock. I'm most touched, most grateful, but I could not consider even the possibility of remarrying.
LOUIS. I have spoken too boldly and too soon. Please regard what I have said merely as something to draw upon should you ever feel so inclined.

Sibella was waiting for me when I got back. I was pleased to see her, for while I never admired Edith as much as when I was with Sibella, I never longed for Sibella as much as when I was with Edith.

LOUIS. I'm afraid I'm late. Have you been bored?
SIBELLA. No. I've been looking into the fire and thinking.
LOUIS. What about?
SIBELLA. Oh, how we used to roast chestnuts round the other fire ... and what a lot has happened since.
LOUIS. Such as?
SIBELLA. How you told me not to marry Lionel because you might be a duke one day, and how I laughed at you. And how I married Lionel. And now you very nearly are a duke.
LOUIS. We're much better off as we are, you and I.
SIBELLA. It's all very well for you to say that! You're not married to Lionel!
LOUIS. We see each other when we want to. We're not obliged to see each other when we don't want to.
SIBELLA. We don't see each other as often as I'd like to. You've been away the whole weekend.
LOUIS. I had to go.
SIBELLA. Where?
LOUIS. To see Mrs d'Ascoyne, the widow of that cousin of mine who was killed.
SIBELLA. All your cousins seem to get killed. I really wouldn't be in the least surprised if you'd murdered them all. [LOUIS BREAKS THE GLASS HE IS HOLDING]
LOUIS. Oh, how clumsy of me ... whatever made you say that?
SIBELLA. Just silliness.
LOUIS. Well, if you promise not to tell anyone, I'll let you in to my guilty secret. I did murder them all.

SIBELLA. I've suspected it for a long time. What's she like?
LOUIS. Who?
SIBELLA. Mrs d'Ascoyne.
LOUIS. Oh, she's, er, tall, slender ...
SIBELLA. Beautiful?
LOUIS. Yes, I suppose some people would call her beautiful.
SIBELLA. Would you?
LOUIS. I suppose so. I’ve never really thought about that.
SIBELLA. What would you say if she asked you about me?
LOUIS. I'd say that you were a perfect combination of imperfections. I'd say that your nose was just a little too short; your mouth just a little too wide; but that yours was a face that a man could see in his dreams for the whole of his life. I'd say that you were vain, selfish, cruel, deceitful. I'd say that you were adorable. I'd say that you were ... Sibella.
SIBELLA. What a pretty speech.
LOUIS. I mean it.
SIBELLA. Come and say it to me again.
LOUIS. I'd say your nose was just a little too short ... and your mouth ... yes, your mouth... just a little too wide. [THEY KISS]

Shortly afterwards, my employer had a stroke. There was little that could be done, and the doctor gave him a month, at the most, to live. I was glad, after all his kindness to me, that I should not have to kill the old man. Soon the only obstacle between me and my inheritance would be the duke himself. I could lay no plan for disposing of him, as the life he led within those great stone walls was a closed book to me.

I was gloomily examining the problem for the hundredth time, as I awaited one day the expected arrival of Sibella at my apartments.

EDITH. Good afternoon, Mr Mazzini.
LOUIS. Mrs d'Ascoyne!
EDITH. I was passing through St. James's, and thought I would take the opportunity to call on you.
LOUIS. Was that wise? Discreet, I mean?
EDITH. There are some conventions which must be governed by individual circumstance. Surely it is safe for a woman to visit a man of your reputation.
LOUIS. It is of your reputation that I'm thinking. Without being inhospitable, I would be happier if your visit were not a long one.
EDITH. I appreciate the scrupulousness of your motives. I have, anyhow, only one important matter to speak of.
LOUIS. That is?
EDITH. I have thought a great deal about what you said at our last meeting, and I have tried to think what Henry's wishes would be. I remember he said to me once "You have too much good in you, Edith, for one man. I sometimes wish that others could have a share of it." I have reconsidered the offer you made to me, thank you again for it, and accept it gladly.
LOUIS. You rob me of words. I think, however, we should make no announcement for three months, at least.
EDITH. I think, however, we should make no announcement for three months, at least.
LOUIS. As you think best. In these, er, new circumstances, I think it more than ever desirable that your unconventional, though in its purpose delightful, visit should be cut short.
EDITH. If your attention as a husband is equal of your consideration as a friend, I shall have made a most fortunate decision.
LOUIS. Do you not think, though, that perhaps Uncle Ethelred, as head of the family should be told at once?
LOUIS. Perhaps so. Yes, I'll write to him.
EDITH. Good-bye, Louis.
LOUIS. Good-bye, Edith. You leave behind you the happiest man in London.

This was not a piece of news which I was looking forward to breaking to Sibella. She had no rights in the matter, but women have a disconcerting ability to make scenes out of nothing and to prove themselves injured when they themselves are at fault. Anyhow, I had three months’ grace before I need face that storm.

SIBELLA. Have you taken to using attar of roses?
LOUIS. No. Why?
SIBELLA. Thought I could smell it. I met such a beautiful woman on the stairs just now.
LOUIS. I expect that would be Mrs d'Ascoyne.
SIBELLA. What was she doing here?
LOUIS. She called in to see me.
SIBELLA. What about?
LOUIS. Business. Family business. Let me get you a glass of sherry.

A day or so later, I received a letter from Lionel. He requested an interview with me at his house on a matter of some delicacy. I was somewhat perturbed, for nine times out of ten, what is referred to as a matter of some delicacy is, in point of fact, one of extreme indelicacy. Two days later I made the tedious journey to Bayswater. It was typical of Lionel that he should live on the wrong side of the Park.

LIONEL. Hello, old boy. Have a drink.
LOUIS. No, thank you. Never during the day.
LIONEL. You don't mind if I do? Keep out the cold.
LOUIS. I was about to remark on the warmth of the day.
LIONEL. Just a joke, old boy.
LOUIS. Ah, yes.
LIONEL. Sit down, old boy.
LOUIS. No, thank you. I would rather stand.
LIONEL. A warm day, isn't it? For the time of the year, I mean.
LOUIS. Distinctly. It's also a very busy day. May we proceed to the matter about which you wished to see me?
LIONEL. Right. A matter of some delicacy, actually, old boy. But I said to myself, "Louis 's a sport and a man of the world. Always been a sport."
LOUIS. Thank you.
LIONEL. Always admired the sporting way in which you took Sibella marrying me and not you. Some fellows would have taken it very differently. But "May the best man win," you said. And when I won, you behaved like a gentleman. So I thought as ... you being keen on Sibella at one time ... and you and I are old friends, I'd ask you to help us.
LOUIS. Help you?
LIONEL. I told you some time back, business hasn't been going so well. Since then, it's gone worse. I'm bankrupt. So I say to myself, "Why not talk to my old pal, Louis Mazzini, who we used to have such jolly times with round the old nursery fire, roasting chestnuts."
LOUIS. I'm afraid your memory is deceiving you. By no stretch of imagination could you and I be described as ever having been pals. If I remember correctly, we detested each other cordially from the first day we met, with a detestation which increased with our years.
LIONEL. Always thought of you as a pal. Always have done. That's why I said to myself ...
LOUIS. It's only fair to warn you that any further expense of breath on this subject would be a waste.
LIONEL. You know what you're doing? Condemning me to death.
LOUIS. What do you mean?
LIONEL. Only one way out for me: do away with myself.
LOUIS. If you knew how absurd these histrionics sounded ...
LIONEL. I'm insured. At least the little woman will be provided for.
LOUIS. Oh, don't be ridiculous.
LIONEL. Louis, I appeal to you. Not for my sake, but for the sake of the little woman.
LOUIS. Please rise from that absurd position.
LIONEL. All I can say is I th ... think you're a cad. A selfish cad.
LOUIS. Let me remind you of a little not-so-ancient history. When I was a draper's assistant and you a rich father's son, you showed me no kindness. Now our positions are reversed, and you come whining to me for favours.
LIONEL. Draper's assistant. That's right. Rotten little counterjumper, that's all you are. Very high and mighty now, but your mother married an Italian organ-grinder.
LOUIS. Stand up.
LIONEL. Huh?
LOUIS. I said stand up. I will not tolerate hearing my mother's name on your coarse tongue. [LOUIS SLAPS HIM TWICE] If you take my advice, you'll go and put your head under a cold tap. I refuse to demean myself by fighting with a drunken oaf. [LIONEL TRIES TO STAB HIM WITH A DAGGER, BUT LOUIS KNOCKS HIM DOWN AND LEAVES HIM LYING ON HIS BACK BESIDE THE SKIN OF A POLAR BEAR]

There seemed no point in prolonging this vulgar brawl, so I returned to my apartment. I took a bath and decided to relax for half an hour, and efface this disagreeable scene from my memory. I was not allowed to relax for long.

LOUIS. Sibella.
SIBELLA. Louis, I'm sorry to worry you when you must be so busy, but I have a piece of important news. Bad news. I thought you ought to know it at once. Lionel has found out about us. About me coming here.
LOUIS. Really?
SIBELLA. Yes.
LOUIS. Oh.
SIBELLA. I had the most dreadful scene with him last night.
LOUIS. Well, I suppose even Lionel isn't stupid enough to be deceived forever.
SIBELLA. You won't take it so calmly when you hear. He's going to start divorce proceedings.
LOUIS. How very unsophisticated of him.
SIBELLA. There's only one possible way out that I can see.
LOUIS. And that is?
SIBELLA. Lionel is still in love with me. My happiness is all he cares about. He might do the gentlemanly thing and let me divorce him.
LOUIS. If?
SIBELLA. If I were in a position to explain to him that otherwise he will be jeopardizing the social position not only of the future Duke but also the future Duchess of Chalfont.
LOUIS. I see. You're a clever little thing, Sibella, but not quite clever enough.
SIBELLA. What do you mean?
LOUIS. I mean that not only do I know that you're blackmailing me - an ugly word, but the only appropriate one - but I also know that you're bluffing me.

SIBELLA. Call my bluff and see.
LOUIS. I will. Let me explain. It must have seemed to you that you hold a very strong hand, but - a very important "but" - it so happens that I hold a card which you did not even know to be in the pack.
SIBELLA. Who's bluffing now?
LOUIS. It so happens that I was with Lionel less than an hour ago. And it was transparently clear from his demeanour and conversation that he had not the faintest suspicion that you and I had any relationship other than that of, as he would probably put it, old pals who used to roast chestnuts together round the jolly old nursery fire. So, while thanking you for the honour that you've done me I must decline your offer because I have other arrangements which make it impossible for me to accept it.
SIBELLA. Namely?
LOUIS. I'm shortly going to announce my engagement to Mrs d'Ascoyne.
SIBELLA. May I say that I think you've behaved despicably?
LOUIS. Has it ever occurred to you, Sibella, that we serve each other right, you and I? [HE KISSES HER ON THE FOREHEAD]
SIBELLA. Would it be asking too much of your manners to escort me to the door?

I had suspected that to confide our secret to the Duke might be an adroit manoeuvre, and I was proved correct for it produced an invitation for Edith and me to spend a few days at the castle. I must confess that I could not suppress an agreeable sensation of triumph as I approached the castle gateway in circumstances so different from those in which I had last done so. It was just an informal little house party. Our fellow guests were Lady Redpole and her daughter Maud, who most suitably resembled nothing so much as a redpoll cow and had little more conversational ability.

LOUIS. Did you go to the opera this season?
MAUD. No.

In the afternoon, Ethelred invited me to inspect the castle. It was pleasant to stand on the battlements and know that the acres which stretched as far as the eye could see would soon be mine. And it amused me to cover much the same ground as that of my sixpenny tour. I had never been in a building so lavishly equipped with the instruments of violent death.

ETHELRED. Feel the weight of that. Our ancestors must have been fine men, Louis.

They seemed, however, ill-adapted to the discreet requirements of 20th-century homicide, and the end of the day found my host still intact and myself still without a plan.

ETHELRED. Beautiful woman, Edith. You're a lucky fellow, Louis.
LOUIS. I never cease to be conscious of that. Thank you.
ETHELRED. What do you think of Maud?
LOUIS. Er, charming girl, though perhaps at times her conversation is a little, er, lacking in sparkle.
ETHELRED. Dullest woman I ever met in my life. Plain too. But good breeding stock. Good breeding stock, the Redpoles. And they litter a very high proportion of boys.
LOUIS. Do I gather you to mean ...
ETHELRED. Spoke to old Lady Redpole this afternoon. Only too glad to get the girl off her hands.
LOUIS. My congratulations.
ETHELRED. Duty to the family, really.
LOUIS. And when does the, er, union take place?
ETHELRED. Very soon. I'm not growing any younger. Mightn't get a son the first time. A quiet wedding, I thought. Maud's hardly the type for St Margaret's. We shall honeymoon on the Riviera and then go on to Italy afterwards. No sense inflicting her on one's friends. When she's got a family, that'll keep her out of the way.

This news threw me into such distress of mind that, had I had poison in my possession I would probably have administered it to Ethelred there and then, and chanced the consequent inquiries. One thing was clear. If I did not succeed in disposing of him during this present visit to the castle I was likely to see the ruin of my whole campaign.

LOUIS. My best wishes for a successful outcome.

The next morning I went out shooting with Ethelred, or rather, to watch Ethelred shooting, for my principles will not allow me to take a direct part in blood sports.

ETHELRED. Been round the traps this morning, Hoskins?
HOSKINS. Not yet, Your Grace.
ETHELRED. Sounds as if we've bagged one there. Ah. Been losing so much game lately, we've started setting the mantraps again. [THEY FIND A MAN WHO IS CAUGHT BY THE LEG IN A LARGE TRAP. HOSKINS FINDS A PARTRIDGE IN THE MAN’S POCKET] Hoskins is now going to thrash you. Then he'll let you go. Let this be a lesson to you not to poach on my land. [HOSKINS HITS THE POACHER FOUR TIMES WITH HIS STICK]. That'll do. Keep moving them around, Hoskins, or they'll tell each other where they are.
HOSKINS. Yes, Your Grace.
LOUIS. I thought mantraps were illegal.
ETHELRED. They are.
LOUIS. What happens if he tells the police?
ETHELRED. He comes up before the bench for poaching, gets six months in jail. If he keeps his mouth shut, he just gets a few days in bed. Which would you choose? Only way to deal with these ruffians, I assure you.
LOUIS. Oh, I must have dropped my cigarette case back there. I'll catch you up. [HE GOES BACK TO SEE WHERE HOSKINS PUTS THE MAN-TRAP]
ETHELRED. Find it?
LOUIS. Yes, thanks.
ETHELRED. Might have another walk round this afternoon, if you feel like it.
LOUIS. That would be most pleasant.

After luncheon we went out to massacre a few more unfortunate birds.

LOUIS. Listen.
ETHELRED. What is it?
LOUIS. I thought I heard something, like someone running through the bracken.
ETHELRED. Another poaching ruffian! Come on!
LOUIS. There was someone here. Look. [HE POINTS TO WHERE THE MAN TRAP IS HIDDEN IN THE BRACKEN. ETHELRED RUNS OVER AND IS CAUGHT BY THE LEG]
ETHELRED. Blast! Louis, get me out of this. Hurry up, man. [LOUIS TAKES ETHELRED’S SHOTGUN] Have you gone mad?

LOUIS. Be quiet, Ethelred. I want to talk to you for a minute. If you make a noise, I shall blow your head off at once. By the time anyone has heard the shot, I shall be running back toward the castle, shouting for help. I shall say that you stepped on the trap and that your gun went off accidentally as it fell. So be quiet. To spare you as much pain as possible, I'll be brief. When I've finished, I shall kill you. You'll be the sixth d'Ascoyne that I've killed. You want to know why? In return for what the d'Ascoynes did to my mother. Because she married for love instead of for rank or money or land, they condemned her to a life of poverty and slavery in a world with which they had not equipped her to deal. You yourself refused to grant her dying wish, which was to be buried here at Chalfont. When I saw her poor little coffin slide underground, saw her exiled in death as she'd been in life, I swore to have my revenge on your intolerable pride. That revenge I am just about to complete.
ETHELRED. It's clear that you are insane. Give me that gun at once.
LOUIS. No. From here, I think, the wound should look consistent with the story that I shall tell. [HE SHOOTS ETHELRED]
LOUIS. Help! Help! Help!

And so Ethelred, 8th Duke of Chalfont, duly came to his place in the family vault. There were few d'Ascoynes left to mourn him, my employer, who was 9th Duke of Chalfont for the shortest possible period, having expired of shock on hearing that he had succeeded to the title. And so ... I became the 10th Duke of Chalfont. Fortunately, the 9th Duke had found time before he expired to make a will bequeathing to me his interests in the business.

LOUIS. You may remove that.

A day or two later, an affecting little feudal ceremony took place to welcome me into residence at the castle.

LOUIS. And I promise you that my first consideration, and that of Mrs d'Ascoyne, who has done me the honour to consent to be my bride, will be the welfare of the estate and of the people who live on it. God bless you all!
TENANTS. Long live His Grace! Long live His Grace!
TENANT. Pennyman, Your Grace, from Sprockett's Farm. Mrs Pennyman. My son, Tom, from Sprockett's Farm. Mr Wyvold, from Sprockett's Farm.
LOUIS. Sprockett's Farm?
BURGOYNE. No, Your Grace. From Scotland Yard.
LOUIS. Scotland Yard?
BURGOYNE. A matter of some delicacy.
LOUIS. Follow me, please.

The blow was so sudden that I found it hard to collect my thoughts. Which of them could it be? Young Ascoyne? Henry? Ethelred? The parson? The general? Lady Agatha? Or could it be all of them?

LOUIS. Now ...
BURGOYNE. You are, I take it, his grace the Duke of Chalfont?
LOUIS. I am.
BURGOYNE. I am Detective Inspector Burgoyne of the Criminal Investigation Department, and I hold a warrant for your arrest on a charge of murder.
LOUIS. Murder?
BURGOYNE. Of murdering Mr Lionel Holland at ...
LOUIS. Murdering whom?
BURGOYNE. Mr Lionel Holland, at number 242 Connaught Square, Bayswater on the 17th of October last.

Utterly bewildered, I tried to fathom what series of events could conceivably have led to this not-very-amusing irony. I could only suppose that Lionel had actually carried out that drunken threat of suicide. But how then had the blame fallen on me? Time alone, and the trial, would reveal the answer. Seeing no reason to forego any of the available privileges of my rank, I exercised my right to be tried before the House of Lords.

LORD HIGH STEWARD. You, as a peer of England, are indicted for murder. How say you, Your Grace? Are you guilty of the felony with which you are charged or not guilty?
LOUIS. Not guilty.
STEWARD. How will you be tried?
LOUIS. By God and my peers.
STEWARD. God send Your Grace a good deliverance.

SIBELLA. It shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me God.
CROWN COUNSEL Mrs Holland, will you tell their Lordships in your own words the substance of the conversation you had with your husband the evening before his death?
SIBELLA. He told me that Louis, the prisoner, was coming to see him the next day
on a rather delicate matter.
COUNSEL. Did he indicate what that matter was?
SIBELLA. He had discovered that the prisoner and I had been ...
COUNSEL. Had been on terms of intimacy?
SIBELLA. Yes.
COUNSEL. And what was his attitude?
SIBELLA. He felt that the correct thing to do was to tell him to his face that he intended to start proceedings for divorce.
COUNSEL. From your knowledge of the prisoner, how would you expect him to receive that news?
SIBELLA. I should expect him to be very angry. Now he was heir to a dukedom, he had no more use for me.
COUNSEL. I see. He was trying to discard you.
SIBELLA. Yes.
COUNSEL. Mrs Holland, I apologize for submitting you to this ordeal, but will you tell their Lordships how you found your husband's body?
SIBELLA. I came back about half past 4:00 ...
STEWARD. Their Lordships have no objection to the witness being seated.
COUNSEL. Yes, Mrs Holland?
SIBELLA. I came back about half past 4:00. I went into my husband's study. He was lying on the floor with a dagger stuck in his chest.
COUNSEL. One last question, Mrs Holland. Had your husband ever, at any time, threatened suicide?
SIBELLA. Never.
COUNSEL. Thank you, Mrs Holland.

LOUIS’ COUNSEL My client craves their Lordships' permission to cross-examine the witness himself.
STEWARD. Their Lordships grant their permission.
LOUIS. Mrs Holland, you understand the meaning of being on oath?
SIBELLA. Of course.
LOUIS. You realise that a life may depend upon the truthfulness of your evidence?
SIBELLA. Yes.
LOUIS. I put it to you that your story of your conversation with your husband on the night before his death is a complete fabrication.
SIBELLA. It is not.
LOUIS. I put it to you that your husband committed suicide.
SIBELLA. He would never have done that without leaving a message for me.
LOUIS. Can you swear that he did not?
SIBELLA. The police searched the room very thoroughly. They didn't find anything.
LOUIS. I suggest that your evidence is a tissue of lies dictated by motives of revenge.
SIBELLA. It is not. It is not.
STEWARD. I presume that the prisoner has some purpose in these submissions, other than that of distressing the witness.
LOUIS. My purpose, my lord, is to determine the truth
STEWARD. That, Your Grace, is the whole purpose of this assembly.

EDITH. ... the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.
LOUIS’ COUNSEL. You are Edith D’Ascoyne Mazzini, Duchess of Chalfont?
EDITH. I am.
COUNSEL. When and where did you become the wife of the accused?
EDITH. Yesterday morning, in Pentonville Prison. I wanted to publish irrevocably before the whole world my faith in his innocence. I wanted to show by my marriage that though he was led astray, as I believe, by that innate kindliness and courtesy of his, which made it so hard for him to rebuff the advances of a woman. I nevertheless regard him as a man to whom I can happily entrust the remainder of my life. I am not alone in these opinions of him. My late husband Henry, and his late Uncle Ethelred, the 8th Duke, both unfortunately unable to testify today, these and other members of the d'Ascoyne family, had they been alive would, I know, have echoed every word that I have said.
COUNSEL. Thank you, Your Grace.

CROWN COUNSEL. The deceased was a client of the banking house of which you are chairman and managing director.
LOUIS. He was.
COUNSEL. In the normal course of business transactions, he would have come to see you at your office.
LOUIS. Yes.
COUNSEL. Instead of which, he asked you to go to his house.
LOUIS. Yes.
COUNSEL. He invited you to his house to discuss business.
LOUIS. Yes.
COUNSEL. And you ask Their Lordships to believe that?
LOUIS. Yes.
COUNSEL. In the course of this, er, business discussion he burst into tears, fell on his knees and threatened suicide.
LOUIS. Yes.
COUNSEL. Is that usual in business discussions?
LOUIS. Not usual, no.
COUNSEL. But it happened on this occasion.
LOUIS. Yes.
COUNSEL. And you ask their Lordships to believe that?
LOUIS. Yes.
COUNSEL. Then this, er, business discussion became so heated that blows were exchanged and he made a murderous attack on you.
LOUIS. Yes.
COUNSEL. Is that usual in business discussion?
LOUIS. No.
COUNSEL. But it happened on this occasion.
LOUIS. Yes.
COUNSEL. And you ask Their Lordships to believe that?
LOUIS. Yes.
COUNSEL. Very well. You've heard of cases of a jealous husband and his wife's lover coming to blows?
LOUIS. Yes.
COUNSEL. Frequently?
LOUIS. It is one of the clichés of the cheaper kind of fiction. [LAUGHTER]
COUNSEL. I put it to you that, in this case, it happened not in fiction, but in fact.
LOUIS. I put it to you that it did not.
COUNSEL. I put it to you further that, being unaware at that time of your future wife's forgiving nature, you assumed that if you were cited in a divorce suit, it would ruin your chances of making this advantageous match with a wealthy and beautiful woman.
LOUIS. No. Not at all.
COUNSEL. Still, you were proposing to discard Mrs Holland.
LOUIS. No.
COUNSEL. Even though you were about to be married to the other lady?

LOUIS [TO HIS COUNSEL]. I must confess to feeling quite intrigued as to their decision.

STEWARD. My lords, the question for Your Lordships is this: Is the prisoner guilty of the felony whereof he stands indicted, or not guilty?
LAW LORD. Guilty, upon mine honour.
LAW LORD. Guilty, upon mine honour.
LAW LORD. Guilty, upon mine honour.

SCENE - SIBELLA VISITS LOUIS IN PRISON

LOUIS. I considered it both seemly and touching that my dear wife should visit me as she did this morning, to make her farewells. Your arrival, on the other hand, appears to me unseemly and tasteless in the extreme.
SIBELLA. I couldn't bear my last sight of you to be that look of hatred you gave me as you went out from the trial.
LOUIS. In view of the fact that your evidence had put the rope round my neck, you could hardly expect a glance of warm affection.
SIBELLA. Isn't there any hope?
LOUIS. What hope could there be?
SIBELLA. I was only thinking. That question you asked at the trial, about Lionel leaving a suicide note. Suppose he did? Suppose that one were found even now, this last evening?
LOUIS. It would savour of a miracle.
SIBELLA. Miracles can happen. Miracles could happen.
LOUIS. I see.
SIBELLA. Oh. Strange, isn't it, how things turn out? Now, if you had married me, instead of Edith ...
LOUIS. Or you had married me, instead of Lionel.

SIBELLA. He would still be alive, and you wouldn't be going to be hanged tomorrow morning. Unless, of course, you've murdered somebody else.
LOUIS. All of which is rather beside the point, isn't it?
SIBELLA. Is it? Do you remember in the old days, how we used to play
Eeny, meeny, miny, mo?
Catch a n***er by his toe,
If he hollers, let him go,
Out goes he.
Quite a lot of little n***ers have gone out, haven't they, one way or another? And every one of them a d'Ascoyne.
LOUIS. Mmm. We do seem to be a very short-lived family.
SIBELLA. Of course, Edith is only a d'Ascoyne by marriage, so I suppose her prospects are better. Except for a miracle. Like the other one we were talking about.

So there it was. She would find the suicide note if I, in return, would murder Edith.

LOUIS. So we now have two miracles in mind, do we?
SIBELLA. Yes.
LOUIS. I wonder if they are, in any way, dependent on each other?
SIBELLA. I suppose perhaps they might be. What do you think?
WARDER. Time's up.
SIBELLA. What do you think?
LOUIS. Poor Edith. I'm afraid all this is going to take years off her life.
SIBELLA. Au revoir, Louis.
LOUIS. Au revoir.

What could I do but accept? After all, I could always decide afterwards which of these two little n***ers would finally have to go. Dear Edith. Captivating Sibella. How different they were, and how well I knew each of them. Or so I thought. But the night has gone by and nothing has happened. It is now but a few minutes to 8:00. And I realise that Sibella came yesterday merely to tantalise, to raise my hopes in order to dash them again. How unlike me not to have guessed. But, after all, how very like Sibella.

SCENE - LOUIS’ CELL ON THE MORNING OF HIS EXECUTION. HE HAS JUST FINISHED WRITING HIS MEMOIRS WHEN THE PRISON GOVERNOR COMES IN WITH THE HANGMAN.

LOUIS. Already? I'll tell you who time gallops withal. "With a thief to the gallows. For though he tread as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there".
GOVERNOR. If you have any last instructions ...
LOUIS. I think, Colonel, it only remains to thank you for your many kindnesses. Won't you introduce our friend?

GOVERNOR. Mr Elliott,
HANGMAN. Good morning, your Grace. This won't take a moment. First, if Your Grace will pardon the liberty, I should like to read some verses, composed by myself for use on these melancholy occasions. Your Grace permits?
LOUIS. With pleasure.
HANGMAN. "My friend, reflect" ... oh ... oh ... pardon. "Your Grace, reflect. While yet of mortal breath some span, however short, is left to thee. How brief the total span ‘twixt birth and death, how long thy coming tenure of eternity. Your Grace, prepare ...” [A WARDER ARRIVES AT A RUN]
WARDER. Colonel!
GOVERNOR. Yes?
GOVERNOR. Your Grace, I am happy to inform you that a telephone communication has just been received from the Home Office. A note has been found, undoubtedly in Mr Holland's handwriting, expressing his intention to commit suicide. It is a miracle.
LOUIS. Yes. It is like a miracle.
GOVERNOR. Pending receipt of further instructions, I will try to make you reasonably comfortable in my quarters.
LOUIS [TO THE HANGMAN]. Good morning.
HANGMAN. Good morning, Your Grace, sir.
GOVERNOR. I assure you I have never been more happy to be relieved of an official duty.
LOUIS. Poor Elliott. If he had not insisted on reading that abominable poem, he would have had me neatly dangling at the end of his rope before the news arrived. He was so looking forward to it.
GOVERNOR. I understand, Your Grace, from the men on duty outside that a large crowd awaits your leaving.
LOUIS. Having robbed them of the pleasure of my death, the least I can do is to let them see me alive.
GOVERNOR. Including, by the way, not only Her Grace the duchess but also Mrs Holland.
LOUIS. How does the song go? "How happy could I be with either were t’other dear charmer away. "
GOVERNOR. Ha, hm.
LOUIS. Well, good-bye.
GOVERNOR. Good-bye, Your Grace.

OUTSIDE THE PRISON THERE ARE CHEERING CROWDS. SIBELLA AND EDITH ARE WAITING IN SEPARATE CARRIAGES

LOUIS. "How happy could I be with either were t’other dear charmer away. "

JOURNALIST. Your Grace.
LOUIS. Yes?
JOURNALIST. I represent the magazine Titbits by whom I'm commissioned to approach you for the publication rights of your memoirs.
LOUIS. My memoirs? Oh, my memoirs. My memoirs ... !

THE END