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THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER

by

W. W. JACOBS and CHARLES ROCK

Adapted from W. W. Jacob's Story "Jerry Bundler"







Copyright, 1908, by W. W. Jacobs and Charles Rock

Caution: Professionals and amateurs are hereby
warned that "The Ghost of Jerry Bundler,"
being fully protected under the copyright laws
of the United States, is subject to a royalty,
and anyone presenting the play without the consent
of the owners or their authorized agents will be
liable to the penalties by law provided. Applications
for professional and amateur acting rights must be
made to Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street,
New York.

New York:                      London:
Samuel French                  Samuel French, Ltd.
Publisher                      26 Southampton Street
25 West 45th Street            Strand
All Rights Reserved

Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this book without
a valid contract for production first having been obtained from the
publisher, confers no right or license to professionals or amateurs to
produce the play publicly or in private for gain or charity.

In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading public only,
and no performance, representation, production, recitation, or public
reading, or radio broadcasting may be given except by special
arrangement with Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York.

This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a royalty of Five
Dollars for each performance, payable to Samuel French, 25 West 45th
Street, New York, one week before the date when the play is given.

Whenever the play is produced the following notice must appear on all
programs, printing and advertising for the play: "Produced by special
arrangement with Samuel French of New York."

Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for any infringement
of the author's rights, as follows.

"SECTION 4966:--Any person publicly performing or representing any
dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been obtained,
without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical
composition, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages
thereof, such damages, in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less
than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every
subsequent performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. If the
unlawful performance and representation be wilful and for profit, such
person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction
shall be imprisoned for a period not exceeding one year."--U. S. Revised
Statutes: Title 60, Chap. 3.




THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER.


Cast at The Haymarket Theatre.

SEPT. 9, 1902.

HIRST                      Mr. Cyril Maude.
PENFOLD                    Mr. George Trollope.
MALCOLM                    Mr. Lewis Broughton.
SOMERS                     Mr. Marsh Allen.
BELDON                     Mr. H. Norton.
DR. LEEK                   Mr. Wilfred Forster.
GEORGE (a waiter)          Mr. Charles Rock.

NOTE.--Penfold, Malcolm, and Beldon represent different types of
Commercial Travellers.


Original Cast.

PENFOLD                    Mr. Holman Clarke.
MALCOLM                    Mr. Holmes Gore.
HIRST                      Mr. Cyril Maude.
SOMERS                     Mr. Frank Gillmore.
DOCTOR LEEK                Mr. C. M. Hallard.
BELDON                     Mr. Cecil Ramsay.
GEORGE (a waiter)          Mr. Mark Kinghorne.

_First produced, St. James's Theatre, London, June 20, 1899._

_Revived. Her Majesty's Theatre, June 20, 1902. Same cast as above
except Mr. Frank Gillmore, whose part was played by Mr. Charles Rock.
The Herman Merivale Benefit Matinee._

_Haymarket Theatre. Sept. 9, 1902. Ran 100 performances._

_Avenue Theatre. Dec. 20, 1902. Ran 38 performances._

[Illustration]




THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER.


SCENE.--_The Commercial Room in an old-fashioned hotel in a small
country town. An air of old-fashioned comfort is in evidence everywhere.
Old sporting prints on the walls._

_On the table up C. are half a dozen candlesticks, old-fashioned shape
with snuffer attached. Two pairs of carpet slippers are set up within
fender. Red curtains to window recess. Shutters or blinds to windows.
Armchair and about six other chairs in the room. One old-fashioned
settle. One small table. Clock. Decanter of water, half a dozen toddy
tumblers. Matches, etc. The only light is a ruddy glow from the fire.
Kettle on hob. Moonlight from R. of window when shutter is opened.
Practical chandelier from ceiling or lights at side of mantelpiece.
DOCTOR'S coat and muffler on chair up L., his cap on mantelpiece._

_All lights out, dark stage. Opening music. Curtain rise--ticking of
clock heard. Wind, then church clock chimes, the Lights come very slowly
up, when the red glow is seen in the fireplace the low murmurs of the
characters heard, and gradually get louder as lights come up to when
SOMERS' voice tops all._

(_The stage occupied by all characters except GEORGE the waiter.
Discovered, PENFOLD, sitting in arm chair L. of fire, above it. DOCTOR
LEEK standing above fire and leaning on mantel-shelf. HIRST sitting on
settle below fire and nearest to audience. SOMERS seated on settle with
him but above him. MALCOLM and BELDON on chairs R. C., facing fire. ALL
are smoking, and drink from their respective glasses from time to time.
SOMERS has just finished a story as Curtain rises._)

OMNES. Oh, I say, that sounds impossible, etc.

SOMERS. Haunted or not haunted, the fact remains that no one stays in
the house long. It's been let to several tenants since the time of the
murder, but they never completed their tenancy. The last tenant held out
for a month, but at last he gave up like the rest, and cleared out,
although he had done the place up thoroughly, and must have been pounds
out of pocket by the transaction.

MALCOLM. Well, it's a capital ghost story, I admit, that is, as a story,
but I for one can't swallow it.

HIRST. I don't know, it is not nearly so improbable as some I have
heard. Of course it's an old idea that spirits like to get into the
company of human beings. A man told me once, that he travelled down by
the Great Western, with a ghost as fellow passenger, and hadn't the
slightest suspicion of it, until the inspector came for tickets. My
friend said, the way that ghost tried to keep up appearances, by feeling
in all its pockets, and even looking on the floor for its ticket, was
quite touching. Ultimately it gave it up, and with a loud groan vanished
through the ventilator.

(_SOMERS, MALCOLM and LEEK laugh heartily._)

BELDON. Oh, I say come now, that'll do.

PENFOLD (_seriously_). Personally I don't think it's a subject for
jesting. I have never seen an apparition myself, but I have known people
who have, and I consider that they form a very interesting link between
us and the after life. There's a ghost story connected with this house,
you know.

OMNES. Eh! Oh? Really!

MALCOLM (_rising and going to mantelpiece, takes up his glass of
toddy_). Well, I have used this house for some years now. I travel for
Blennet and Burgess--wool--and come here regularly three times a year,
and I've never heard of it. (_Sits down again on his chair, holding
glass in his hand._)

LEEK. And I've been here pretty often too, though I have only been in
practice here for a couple of years, and I have never heard it
mentioned, and I must say I don't believe in anything of the sort. In my
opinion ghosts are the invention of weak-minded idiots.

PENFOLD. Weak-minded idiots or not, there is a ghost story connected
with this house, but it dates a long time back.

(_GEORGE, the waiter, enters D. L. with tray and serviette._)

Oh, here's George, he'll bear me out. You've heard of Jerry Bundler,
George?

GEORGE (_C._). Well, I've just 'eard odds and ends, sir, but I never put
much count to 'em. There was one chap 'ere, who was under me when fust I
come, he said he seed it, and the Guv'nor sacked him there and then.
(_Goes to table by window, puts tray down, takes up glass and wipes it
slowly._)

(_MEN laugh._)

PENFOLD. Well, my father was a native of this town, and he knew the
story well. He was a truthful man and a steady churchgoer. But I have
heard him declare that once in his life he saw the ghost of Jerry
Bundler in this house; let me see, George, you don't remember my old
dad, do you?

(_GEORGE puts down glasses over table._)

GEORGE. No, sir. I come here forty years ago next Easter, but I fancy he
was before my time.

PENFOLD. Yes, though not by long. He died when I was twenty, and I shall
be sixty-two next month, but that's neither here nor there.

(_GEORGE goes up to table C. tidying up and listening._)

LEEK. Who was this Jerry Bundler?

PENFOLD. A London thief, pickpocket, highwayman--anything he could turn
his dishonest hand to, and he was run to earth in this house some eighty
years ago.

(_GEORGE puts glass down and stands listening._)

He took his last supper in this room.

(_PENFOLD leans forward. BELDON looks round to L. nervously._)

That night soon after he had gone to bed, a couple of Bow Street
runners, the predecessors of our present detective force turned up here.
They had followed him from London, but had lost scent a bit, so didn't
arrive till late. A word to the landlord, whose description of the
stranger who had retired to rest, pointed to the fact that he was the
man they were after, of course enlisted his aid and that of the male
servants and stable hands. The officers crept quietly up to Jerry's
bedroom and tried the door, it wouldn't budge. It was of heavy oak and
bolted from within.

(_OMNES lean forward, showing interest._)

Leaving his comrade and a couple of grooms to guard the bedroom door,
the other officer went into the yard, and, procuring a short ladder, by
this means reached the window of the room in which Jerry was sleeping.
The Inn servants and stable hands saw him get on to the sill and try to
open the window. Suddenly there was a crash of glass, and with a cry, he
fell in a heap on to the stones at their feet. Then in the moonlight,
they saw the face of the highwayman peering over the sill.

(_OMNES move uneasily._)

They sent for the blacksmith, and with his sledge-hammer he battered in
the strong oak panels, and the first thing that met their eyes was the
body of Jerry Bundler dangling from the top of the four-post bed by his
own handkerchief.

(_OMNES sit back, draw their breath, and are generally uneasy. Slight
pause._)

SOMERS. I say, which bedroom was it? (_Earnestly_).

PENFOLD. That I can't tell you, but the story goes that Jerry still
haunts this house, and my father used to declare positively that the
last time he slept here, the ghost of Jerry Bundler lowered itself from
the top of his four-post bed and tried to strangle him.

BELDON (_jumps up, gets behind his chair, twists chair round;
nervously_). O, I say, that'll do. I wish you'd thought to ask your
father which bedroom it was.

PENFOLD. What for?

BELDON. Well, I should take jolly good care not to sleep in it, that's
all. (_Goes to back._)

(_PENFOLD rising, goes to fire, and knocks out his pipe, Leek gets by
arm-chair._)

PENFOLD. There's nothing to fear. I don't believe for a moment that
ghosts could really hurt one. (_GEORGE lights candle at table._) In
fact, my father used to say that it was only the unpleasantness of the
thing that upset him, and that, for all practical purposes, Jerry's
fingers might have been made of cotton wool for all the harm they could
do.

(_GEORGE hands candle, gets to door and holds it open._)

BELDON. That's all very fine, a ghost story is a ghost story, but when a
gentleman tells a tale of a ghost that haunts the house in which one is
going to sleep, I call it most ungentlemanly.

(_BELDON places his chair to L. of table R. PENFOLD goes up to C. LEEK
sits in arm chair. BELDON goes to fireplace._)

PENFOLD. Pooh! Nonsense. (_At table up C._).

(_During his speech George lights one of the candles._)

Ghosts can't hurt you. For my own part, I should rather like to see one.

OMNES. Oh, come now---- etc.

PENFOLD. Well, I'll bid you good-night, gentlemen.

(_He goes towards door L. GEORGE opens it for him; he passes out as they
all say._)

OMNES. Good-night.

(_HIRST rises, crosses to L. C._)

BELDON (_up R., calling after him_). And I hope Jerry'll pay you a
visit.

MALCOLM (_rises, goes to fire_). Well, I'm going to have another whisky
if you gentlemen will join me. I think it'll do us all good after that
tale. George, take the orders.

(_GEORGE comes down with salver to table R., gathers up glasses._)

SOMERS. Not quite so much hot water in mine.

MALCOLM. I'll have the same again, George.

BELDON. A leetle bit of lemon in mine, George.

LEEK. Whisky and soda for me, please.

HIRST. Whisky!

(_GEORGE goes to table R., collects glasses, crosses to door L.
speaks._)

GEORGE (_to MALCOLM_). Shall I light the gas, Mr. Malcolm? (_At door._)

MALCOLM. No, the fire's very comfortable, unless any of you gentlemen
prefer the gas.

OMNES. No, not at all--etc.

MALCOLM. Never mind, George. (_This to GEORGE as no one wants the gas._)
The firelight is pleasanter.

(_Exit GEORGE for orders L._)

(_BELDON gets C._)

MALCOLM (_at fire_). Does any gentleman know another----?

SOMERS (_seated R._). Well, I remember hearing----

BELDON (_up C._). Oh, I say--that'll do.

(_OMNES laugh._)

LEEK. Yes, I think you all look as if you'd heard enough ghost stories
to do you the rest of your lives. And you're not all as anxious to see
the real article as the old gentleman who's just gone.

HIRST (_looking to L._). Old humbug! I should like to put him to the
test. (_C._) (_Bus._) I say, suppose I dress up as Jerry Bundler and go
and give him a chance of displaying his courage? I bet I'd make the old
party sit up.

MALCOLM. Capital!

BELDON. A good idea.

LEEK. I shouldn't, if I were you.

HIRST. Just for the joke, gentlemen (_C._).

SOMERS. No, no--drop it, Hirst.

HIRST. Only for the joke. Look here, I've got some things that'll do
very well. We're going to have some amateur theatricals at my house.
We're doing a couple of scenes from "The Rivals," Somers, (_pointing to
SOMERS_) and I have been up to town to get the costumes, wigs, etc.,
to-day. I've got them up-stairs--knee-breeches, stockings, buckled
shoes, and all that sort of thing. It's a rare chance. If you wait a
bit, I'll give you a full dress rehearsal, entitled "Jerry Bundler, or
the Nocturnal Stranger." (_At door L._).

LEEK (_sneeringly_). You won't frighten us, will you?

HIRST. I don't know so much about that--it's a question of acting,
that's all.

MALCOLM. I'll bet you a level sov, you don't frighten me.

HIRST (_quietly_). A level sov. (_Pauses._) Done. I'll take the bet to
frighten you first, and the old boy afterwards. These gentlemen shall be
the judges. (_Points to LEEK and BELDON._)

BELDON (_up C._). You won't frighten us because we're prepared for you,
but you'd better leave the old man alone. It's dangerous play. (_Appeals
to LEEK_).

HIRST. Well, I'll try you first. (_Moves to door and pauses._) No gas,
mind.

OMNES. No! no!

HIRST (_laughs_). I'll give you a run for your money.

(_GEORGE enters, holds door open._)

(_Exit HIRST._)

(_GEORGE passes drinks round. Five drinks. SOMERS takes the one ordered
for HIRST and puts it on the table R. BELDON sits R. C. GEORGE crosses
to table, puts two drinks down, goes to fire and gives drinks, then up
to table, puts tray down, takes up glass and begins to wipe it, gets
down L. for lines._)

LEEK (_to MALCOLM_). I think you'll win your bet, sir, but I vote we
give him a chance. Suppose we have cigars round, and if he's not back by
the time we've finished them I must be off, as I have a quarter of an
hour's walk before me. (_Looks at watch._) He's a friend of yours, isn't
he?

SOMERS. Yes, I have known him a good many years now, and I must say he's
a rum chap; just crazy about acting and practical joking, though I've
often told him he carries the latter too far at times. In this case it
doesn't matter, but I won't let him try it on the _old gentleman_. You
see we know what he's going to do, and are prepared, but he doesn't, and
it might lead to illness or worse; the old chap's sixty-two and such a
shock might have serious consequences. But Hirst won't mind giving up
that part of it, so long as he gets an opportunity of acting to us.

LEEK (_knocks pipe on grate_). Well, I hope he'll hurry up. It's getting
pretty late. (_To SOMERS._)

MALCOLM. Well, gentlemen, your health!

SOMERS. Good luck.

LEEK. Hurrah!

BELDON. Chin-chin!

LEEK. By the way, how is it you happen to be here to-night?

SOMERS. Oh, we missed the connection at Tolleston Junction and as the
accommodation at the Railway Arms there was rather meagre, the Station
Master advised us to drive on here, put up for the night, and catch the
Great Northern express from Exton in the morning. (_Rises, crosses to
L._) Oh, George, that reminds me--you might see that 'Boots' calls us at
7 sharp.

(_BELDON rises, goes up to them to fire._)

GEORGE. Certainly, sir. What are your numbers?

SOMERS. 13 and 14.

GEORGE. I'll put it on the slate, special, sir. (_Goes to door L._)

LEEK. I beg pardon, gentlemen, I forgot the cigars; George, bring some
cigars back with you.

BELDON. A very mild one for me.

GEORGE. Very well, sir. (_Takes up tray from sideboard._)

(_Exit L._)

(_SOMERS sits R. C._)

MALCOLM. I think you were very wise coming on here. (_Sits on settle
R._) I stayed at the Railway Arms, Tolleston, once--never again though.
Is your friend clever at acting?

SOMERS. I don't think he's clever enough to frighten you. I'm to spend
Christmas at his place, and he's asked me to assist at the theatricals
he spoke of. Nothing would satisfy him till I consented, and I must
honestly say I am very sorry I ever did, for I expect I shall be pretty
bad. I know I have scarcely slept a wink these last few nights, trying
to get the words into my head.

(_GEORGE enters backwards, pale and trembling._)

MALCOLM. Why! Look--what the devil's the matter with George? (_Crosses
to GEORGE._)

GEORGE. I've seen it, gentlemen. (_Down stage L. C._)

OMNES. Seen who?

(_BELDON down R. edge of table R. LEEK up R. C. SOMERS up R._)

GEORGE. The ghost. Jer--Bun--

MALCOLM. Why, you're frightened, George.

GEORGE. Yes, sir. It was the suddenness of it, and besides I didn't look
for seeing it in the bar. There was only a glimmer of light there, and
it was sitting on the floor. I nearly touched it.

MALCOLM (_goes to door, looks off, then returns--to others_). It must be
Hirst up to his tricks. George was out of the room when he suggested it.
(_To GEORGE._) Pull yourself together, man.

GEORGE. Yes, sir--but it took me unawares. I'd never have gone to the
bar by myself if I'd known it was there, and I don't believe you would,
either, sir.

MALCOLM. Nonsense, I'll go and fetch him in. (_Crosses to L._)

GEORGE (_clutching him by the sleeve_). You don't know what it's like,
sir. It ain't fit to look at by yourself, it ain't indeed. It's got the
awfullest deathlike face, and short cropped red hair--it's--

(_Smothered cry is heard._)

What's that? (_Backs to C and leans on chair._)

(_ALL start, and a quick pattering of footsteps is heard rapidly
approaching the room. The door flies open and HIRST flings himself
gasping and shivering into MALCOLM'S arms. The door remains open. He has
only his trousers and shirt on, his face very white with fear and his
own hair all standing on end. LEEK lights the gas, then goes to R. of
HIRST._)

OMNES. What's the matter?

MALCOLM. Why, it's Hirst.

(_Shakes him roughly by the shoulder._)

What's up?

HIRST. I've seen--oh, Lord! I'll never play the fool again. (_Goes C._)

OTHERS. Seen what?

HIRST. Him--it--the ghost--anything.

MALCOLM (_uneasily_). Rot!

HIRST. I was coming down the stairs to get something I'd forgotten, when
I felt a tap--(_He breaks off suddenly gazing through open door._) I
thought I saw it again--Look--at the foot of the stairs, can't you see
anything? (_Shaking LEEK._)

LEEK (_crosses to door peering down passage_). No, there's nothing
there. (_Stays up L._)

(_HIRST gives a sigh of relief._)

MALCOLM (_L. C._). Go on--you felt a tap----

HIRST (_C._). I turned and saw it--a little wicked head with short red
hair--and a white dead face--horrible.

(_Clock chimes three-quarters._)

(_They assist him into chair L. of table R._)

GEORGE (_up C._). That's what I saw in the bar--'orrid--it was devilish.
(_Coming C._)

(_MALCOLM crosses to L. HIRST shudders._)

MALCOLM. Well, it's a most unaccountable thing. It's the last time I
come to this house. (_Goes to R. of LEEK._)

GEORGE. I leave to-morrow. I wouldn't go down to that bar alone--no, not
for fifty pounds. (_Goes up R. to arm-chair._)

SOMERS (_crosses to door R. then returns to R. C._). It's talking about
the thing that's caused it, I expect. We've had it in our minds, and
we've been practically forming a spiritualistic circle without knowing
it. (_Goes to back of table R._)

BELDON (_crosses to R. C._). Hang the old gentleman. Upon my soul I'm
half afraid to go to bed.

MALCOLM. Doctor, it's odd they should both think they saw something.

(_They both drop down L. C._)

GEORGE (_up C._). I saw it as plainly as I see you, sir. P'raps if you
keep your eyes turned up the passage you'll see it for yourself.
(_Points._)

(_They all look. BELDON goes to SOMERS._)

BELDON. There--what was that?

MALCOLM. Who'll go with me to the bar!

LEEK. I will. (_Goes to door._)

BELDON (_gulps_). So--will I. (_Crosses to door L. They go to the door.
To MALCOLM._) After you. (_They slowly pass into the passage. GEORGE
watching them. All exit except HIRST and SOMERS._)

SOMERS. How do you feel now, old man?

HIRST (_changing his frightened manner to one of assurance_). Splendid!

SOMERS. But--(_a step back._)

HIRST. I tell you I feel splendid.

SOMERS. But the ghost--(_Steps back to C._)

HIRST. Well, upon my word, Somers--you're not as sharp as I thought you.

SOMERS. What do you mean?

HIRST. Why, that I was the ghost George saw. (_Crosses to L. C._) By
Jove, he _was_ in a funk! I followed him to the door and overheard his
description of what he'd seen, then I burst in myself and pretended I'd
seen it too. I'm going to win that, bet--(_VOICES heard. Crosses to R._)
Look out, they're coming back. (_Sits._)

SOMERS. Yes, but----

HIRST. Don't give me away--hush!

(_Re-enter MALCOLM, LEEK, BELDON and GEORGE L._)

(_BELDON and GEORGE go up to back C._)

HIRST. Did you see it? (_In his frightened manner._)

MALCOLM (_C._) I don't know--I thought I saw something, but it might
have been fancy. I'm in the mood to see anything just now. (_To HIRST._)
How are you feeling now, sir?

HIRST. Oh, I feel a bit better now. I daresay you think I'm easily
scared--but you didn't see it.

MALCOLM. Well, I'm not quite sure. (_Goes to fire._)

LEEK. You've had a bit of a shock. Best thing you can do is to go to
bed.

HIRST (_finishing his drink_). Very well. Will you, (_rises_) share my
room with me, Somers?

(_GEORGE lights two candles._)

SOMERS (_crosses to L. C._). I will with pleasure. (_Gets up to table C.
and gets a candle_). Provided you don't mind sleeping with the gas full
on all night. (_Goes to door L._)

LEEK (_to HIRST_). You'll be all right in the morning.

HIRST. Good night, all. (_As he crosses to door._)

OMNES. Good night.

(_ALL talking at fire, not looking to L. as HIRST and SOMERS exeunt.
HIRST chuckles and gives SOMERS a sly dig._)

SOMERS. Good night.

MALCOLM (_at fireplace_). Well, I suppose the bet's off, though as far
as I can see I won it. I never saw a man so scared in all my life. Sort
of poetic justice about it. (_LEEK with revolver in his hand, is just
putting it into his pocket. Seeing him._) Why, what's that you've got
there?

LEEK. A revolver. (_At fire._) You see I do a lot of night driving,
visiting patients in outlying districts--they're a tough lot round here,
and one never knows what might happen, so I have been accustomed to
carry it. I just pulled it out so as to have it handy. I meant to have a
pot at that ghost if I had seen him. There's no law against it, is
there? I never heard of a close time for ghosts.

BELDON.--Oh, I say, never mind ghosts. Will _you_ share my room? (_To
MALCOLM._)

(_GEORGE comes down a little, holding candle._)

MALCOLM. With pleasure. I'm not exactly frightened, but I'd sooner have
company, and I daresay George here would be glad to be allowed to make
up a bed on the floor.

BELDON. Certainly.

MALCOLM. Well, that's settled. A majority of three to one ought to stop
any ghost. Will that arrangement suit you, George?

GEORGE. Thank you, sir. And if you gentlemen would kindly come down to
the bar with me while I put out the gas. I could never be sufficiently
grateful, and when (_at door_) we come back we can let the Doctor out at
the front door. Will that do, sir?

LEEK. All right; I'll be getting my coat on. (_GEORGE gets to door. They
exit at door L. LEEK picks up his coat off chair up L., puts it on and
then turns up trousers. Footsteps heard in flies, then goes to the
window R., pulls curtain aside and opens the shutters of the window
nearest the fire. A flood of moonlight streams in from R. Clock strikes
twelve._) By Jove, what a lovely night. That poor devil did get a
fright, and no mistake. (_Crossing down to fireplace for his cap which
is on the mantelpiece. MALCOLM, BELDON and GEORGE return--the door
closes after them._) Well, no sign of it, eh?

MALCOLM. No, we've seen nothing this time. Here, give me the candle,
George, while you turn out the gas.

LEEK. All right, George, I'll put this one out. (_Turns out gas below
fire._)

(_MALCOLM and BELDON are up at sideboard, GEORGE having put the other
gas out, goes up to them and is just lighting the candles for them. The
DOCTOR is filling his pipe at mantel-shelf, and stooping to get a light
with a paper spill. LEEK whistles and lights spill. The handle of the
door is heard moving. OMNES stand motionless--MALCOLM and BELDON very
frightened. They all watch. The room is lit only by the firelight which
is very much fainter than it was at the beginning of the play, by the
candle which GEORGE holds, and by the flood of moonlight from the
window._)

(_The door slowly opens, a hand is seen, then a figure appears in dark
breeches, white stockings, buckled shoes, white shirt, very neat in
every detail, with a long white or spotted handkerchief tied round the
neck, the long end hanging down in front. The face cadaverous, with
sunken eyes and a leering smile, and close cropped red hair. The figure
blinks at the candle, then slowly raises its hands and unties the
handkerchief, its head falls on to one shoulder, it holds handkerchief
out at arm's length and advances towards MALCOLM._)

                      _Table_
                                     GEORGE
      LEEK      BELDON      MALCOLM
      _Chair_

_Fire_                                      HIRST

(_Just as the figure reaches the place where the moonbeams touch the
floor, LEEK fires--he has very quietly and unobtrusively drawn his
revolver. GEORGE drops the candle and the figure, writhing, drops to the
floor. It coughs once a choking cough. MALCOLM goes slowly forward,
touches it with his foot, and kneels by figure, lifts figure up, gazes
at it, and pulls the red wig off, discovering HIRST. MALCOLM gasps out
"DOCTOR." LEEK places the revolver on chair, kneels behind HIRST.
MALCOLM is L. C., kneeling. At this moment SOMERS enters very brightly
with lighted candle._)

SOMERS. Well, did Hirst win his bet? (_Seeing HIRST on floor, he
realizes the matter_). My God, you didn't--I told him not to. I told him
not to!! I told him--(_falls fainting into arms of GEORGE._)

_Curtain._




                       PICTURE.

               BELDON               GEORGE
    LEEK         HIRST        MALCOLM       SOMERS
(_kneeling_)  (_seated      (_kneeling_) (_at door L._)
               on floor_)

NOTE. _When played at The Haymarket the piece finished with a different
ending as given below. MR. CYRIL MAUDE fearing the above tragic
termination would be too serious._

_From SOMERS' entrance._

_SOMERS enters with lighted candle, and exclaims very brightly._

SOMERS. Well, did Hirst win his bet?

_Slight pause._

HIRST (_suddenly sitting up_). Yes. (_Turning to DR. LEEK._) You're a
damned bad shot, Doctor. (_Then to MALCOLM._) And I'll trouble you for
that sovereign.

_The remaining characters express astonishment._

CURTAIN.



     *     *     *     *     *     *     *



MARY'S ANKLE


A comedy in 3 acts. By May Tully. Produced originally at the Bijou
Theatre, New York. 6 males, 4 females. 1 interior, 1 exterior scene.
Modern costumes.

This brisk and peppery farce is one of the cleanest and most hilariously
amusing plays of recent years. It is the story of ambitious but
impecunious youth. "Doc" Hampton, without a patient, "Stocksie," a
lawyer devoid of clients, and "Chub" Perkins, a financier without
capital, are in a bad way. In fact, they are broke and it is a real
problem for them actually to get food. Mary Jane Smith is the heroine
with the ankle. The three pals meet her first as a solicitor of funds
for the poor and again as the victim of an automobile accident.

A rich relative, "Doc's" uncle, inclined to be a tightwad but good at
heart, comes upon the scene and seeing Mary, immediately takes it for
granted that she is his nephew's wife, having been informed by a bogus
wedding invitation that the ceremony had just taken place. The
fictitious wedding had been arranged by the boys in a moment of need in
order to get "Doc's" family in the West to send on wedding presents that
could be pawned. As his wedding present, the Uncle insists that "Doc"
and Mary accompany him to Bermuda. The situation is tense, but Mary has
a sense of humor, and saves the day.

(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.




WILD WAVES


A comedy in 3 acts. By William Ford Manley. Produced originally at the
Times Square Theatre, New York. 30 males, 15 females. 4 interior scenes.
Modern costumes.

A rollicking farce about what transpires behind the microphone of a
broadcasting studio. The most popular singing artist in Station WWVW is
Roy Denny. Through some mischance it comes about that the Denny "golden
voice" is really John Duffy. Duffy, being a nervous lad, has always
failed miserably from microphone fright whenever he has attempted to
sing under his own name. When he croons under Denny's name he kindles
the divine hope in female breasts clear across this palpitating country.
But Denny receives all the credit. This hoax destroys Duffy's personal
love life and results in a conspiracy inside Station WWVW. As a sort of
undercurrent to the narrative it introduces satiric bits about the
buncombe of radio broadcasting. The play offers fine opportunities for
the introduction of musical numbers and comedy acts.

(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.




THE MIDDLE WATCH


A farcical comedy in 3 acts. By Ian Hay and Stephen King-Hall. Produced
originally at the Times Square Theatre, New York. 9 males, 6 females.
Modern costumes and naval uniforms. 2 interior scenes.

During a reception on board H. M. S. "Falcon," a cruiser on the China
Station, Captain Randall of the Marines has become engaged to Fay Eaton,
and in his enthusiasm induces her to stay and have dinner in his cabin.
This is met with stern disapproval by Fay's chaperon, Charlotte
Hopkinson, who insists that they leave at once. Charlotte, however, gets
shut up in the compass room, and a gay young American widow accepts the
offer to take her place, both girls intending to go back to shore in the
late evening. Of course, things go wrong, and they have to remain aboard
all night. By this time the Captain has to be told, because his cabin
contains the only possible accommodations, and he enters into the
conspiracy without signalling the Admiral's flagship. Then the "Falcon"
is suddenly ordered to sea, and the Admiral decides to sail with her.
This also makes necessary the turning over to him of the Captain's
quarters. The presence of the ladies now becomes positively
embarrassing. The girls are bundled into one cabin just opposite that
occupied by the Admiral. The game of "general-post" with a marine sentry
in stockinged feet is very funny, and so are the attempts to explain
matters to the "Old Man" next morning. After this everything ends both
romantically and happily.

(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.




NANCY'S PRIVATE AFFAIR


A comedy in 3 acts. By Myron C. Fagan. Produced originally at the
Vanderbilt Theatre, New York. 4 males, 5 females. 2 interior scenes.
Modern costumes.

Nothing is really private any more--not even pajamas and bedtime
stories. No one will object to Nancy's private affair being made public,
and it would be impossible to interest the theatre public in a more
ingenious plot. Nancy is one of those smart, sophisticated society women
who wants to win back her husband from a baby vamp. Just how this is
accomplished makes for an exceptionally pleasant evening. Laying aside
her horn-rimmed spectacles, she pretends indifference and affects a
mysterious interest in other men. Nancy baits her rival with a bogus
diamond ring, makes love to her former husband's best friend, and
finally tricks the dastardly rival into a marriage with someone else.

Mr. Fagan has studded his story with jokes and retorts that will keep
any audience in a constant uproar.

(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.




TAKE MY TIP


A comedy in 3 acts. By Nat N. Dorfman. Produced originally at the 48th
Street Theatre in New York. 7 males, 6 females. 1 interior scene. Modern
costumes.

Few of us have escaped getting our fingers burnt in the crash of the
stock market, and even those of us who have, have heard enough about it
to take a sympathetic and amused interest in the doings of Henry Merrill
when he tries to buck the game and grow rich. The play starts just two
months before the crash. Henry, of the local soap works, is so heavy an
investor in an oil stock that he is made a thirty-sixth Vice President
of the Corporation. Not being the kind of fellow who would forget his
friends in this time of good fortune, he lets them all in on the good
thing. Being humanly greedy, the friends jump at the chance to
profit.... In the second act, after Henry's daughter has eloped, the
friends are presenting Henry with a diamond-studded wrist watch, as a
token of their esteem, when news comes of the Wall Street upheaval and
all are wiped out. Things, however, are not as bad as they look, for
Henry, who has an invention to revolutionize the soap industry, sells
the idea for a large price and everything is all right again.

(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.




PETER FLIES HIGH


A comedy in 3 acts. By Myron C. Fagan. Produced originally at the Gaiety
Theatre, New York. 8 males, 6 females. 1 interior scene. Modern
costumes.

This delightful comedy concerns one Peter Turner who caddied for the
Morgans, the Kahns and the Guggenheims on the links at Miami. It was
during one of these rounds on the golf links that Peter fell over and
killed a stray dog. The local paper built the story up so that Peter
becomes a nation-wide hero who saved the lives of many people by
strangling a mad canine. By the time the story reaches his home town,
Rosedale, New Jersey, Peter has become the boon companion of all the
money kings--at least in the public mind--and Peter does his best to
foster the deception. Carried away by his imagination he pretends to be
a friend of the great, persuades his brother-in-law to buy an option to
a ninety-acre lot on the assumption that "Guggenheim" is to build a golf
course there, obtains $10,000 from the local banker and then becomes
badly involved in his deceptions. After Peter endures the ridicule of
his townsfolk and the ire of the banker there suddenly appears on the
scene a representative of "Guggenheim" who wants the acreage not for a
golf course but an air field, and promptly turns over a check for
$75,000 for a part of it.

(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.