The Plays of W. E. Henley and R. L. Stevenson

Chapter 128

Chapter 128317 wordsPublic domain

_To these_, DUMONT

DUMONT. Ah, friends, up so early? Catching the worm, catching the worm?

(Sitting on the table dissembling box and dissembling box . . .

MACAIRE. Good-morning, good-morning!

BERTRAND. Early birds, early birds.

. . . )

DUMONT. By the way, very remarkable thing: I found the key.

MACAIRE. No!

BERTRAND. O!

DUMONT. Perhaps a still more remarkable thing: it was my key that had the twisted handle.

MACAIRE. I told you so.

DUMONT. Now, what we have to do is to get the cash-box. Hallo! what’s that your sitting on?

BERTRAND. Nothing.

MACAIRE. The table! I beg your pardon.

DUMONT. Why, it’s my cash-box!

MACAIRE. Why, so it is!

DUMONT. It’s very singular.

MACAIRE. Diabolishly singular.

BERTRAND. Early worms, early worms!

DUMONT (_blowing in key_). Well, I suppose you are still willing to begone?

MACAIRE. More than willing, my dear soul: pressed, I may say, for time; for though it had quite escaped my memory, I have an appointment in Turin with a lady of title.

DUMONT (_at box_). It’s very odd. (_Blows its key_.) It’s a singular thing (_blowing_), key won’t turn. It’s a patent. Some one must have tampered with the lock (_blowing_). It’s strangely singular, it’s singularly singular! I’ve shown this key to commercial gentlemen all the way from Paris: they never saw a better key! (_more business_). Well (_giving it up and looking reproachfully on key_), that’s pretty singular.

MACAIRE. Let me try. (_He tries_, _and flings down the key with a curse_.) Bitten.

BERTRAND. Sold again.

DUMONT (_picking up key_). It’s a patent key.

MACAIRE (_to_ BERTRAND). The game’s up: we must save the swag. (_To_ DUMONT.) Sir, since your key, on which I invoke the blight of Egypt, has once more defaulted, my feelings are unequal to a repetition of yesterday’s distress, and I shall simply pad the hoof. From Turin you shall receive the address of my banker, and may prosperity attend your ventures. (_To_ BERTRAND.) Now, boy! (_To_ DUMONT.) Embrace my fatherless child! farewell! (MACAIRE _and_ BERTRAND _turn to go off and are met in the door by the_ GENDARMES.)