Lighthouse Books for Translation and Publishing: The Tenth Man A Tragic Comedy in Three Acts (ePub)

Scene: A drawing-room at Lord Francis Etchingham's house in Norfolk Street, Park Lane. An Adam room, with bright chintzes on the furniture, photographs on the chimney-piece and the piano, and a great many flowers. There is an archway at the back, leading into another drawing-room, and it is through this that visitors are introduced by the butler. On the left is a large bow window, and on the right a door leading into the library.

Lord and Lady Francis.

Lord Francis Etchingham is a man of fifty, of the middle height, rather bald, with an amiable, weak face. He is a good-natured person, anxious to do his best in all things and to all people so long as he is not bored. He wants everything to go smoothly. He has a comfortable idea of his own capacity. Reduced circumstances have drawn him into affairs, and he regards himself as a fine man of business. Lady Francis is a handsome and well-preserved woman of the same age as her husband, with dyed red hair; she has a massive, almost an imposing, presence, and she is admirably gowned. She treats her husband with good-humoured scorn, aware of his foibles, but amused rather than annoyed by them. When the curtain rises Francis Etchingham is a prey to the liveliest vexation. He is walking nervously across the room, while his wife, with a thin smile, stands quietly watching him. With a gesture of irritation he flings himself into a chair.

Surely that ought to satisfy anyone.

James Ford.

Well, it doesn't satisfy me.

George Winter.

Perhaps you would like my father-in-law to tell you that every word I say is scrupulously true?

Swalecliffe.

We don't doubt your word, Mr. Winter, but we came to London with a particular object.

Boyce.

I must say I thought from the beginning it was open to the gravest question.

James Ford.

The committee discussed it at length, and the majority agreed that....

George Winter.

[Rising.] Of course, of course, Etchingham, will you give these gentlemen the assurance?

Etchingham.

[After a moment's hesitation.] I think the whole thing's damned impertinent.

Boyce.

That's exactly what I said.

James Ford.

[Quietly.] You're only wasting time, Winter.

Swalecliffe.

We made up our minds that we must have a certain assurance from the lips of Mrs. Winter. Then we can go back to Middlepool with comfortable minds.

George Winter.

[Trying bluster.] D'you mean to say you wish to cross-examine my wife?

Swalecliffe.

I merely wish her to answer the questions that were put to you in Colonel Boyce's letter on behalf of the committee.

George Winter.