Landed Gentry: A Comedy in Four Acts

SCENE: The drawing-room at Kenyon-Fulton. It is a handsome apartment with large windows, reaching to the ground. On the walls are old masters whose darkness conceals their artistic insignificance. The furniture is fine and solid. Nothing is very new or smart. The chintzes have a rather pallid Victorian air. The room with its substantial magnificence represents the character of a family rather than the taste of an individual.

It is night and one or two electric lamps are burning.

MOORE, an elderly impressive butler, comes in, followed by GANN. This is CLAUDE INSOLEY’S gamekeeper, a short, sturdy man, grizzled, with wild stubborn hair and a fringe of beard round his chin. He wears his Sunday clothes of sombre broadcloth.

MOORE.

You’re to wait here.

[GANN, hat in hand, advances to the middle of the room.

MOORE.

They’ve not got up from dinner yet, but he’ll come and see you at once.

GANN.

I’ll wait.

MOORE.

He said I was to tell him the moment you come. What can he be wanting of you at this time of night?

GANN.

Maybe if he wished you to know he’d have told you.

MOORE.

I don’t want to know what don’t concern me.

GANN.

Pity there ain’t more like you.

MOORE.

It’s the missus’ birthday to-day.

GANN.

Didn’t he say you was to tell him the moment I come?

MOORE.

I’ve only just took in the dessert. Give ’em a minute to sample the peaches.

GANN.

I thought them was your orders.

MOORE.

You’re a nice civil-spoken one, you are.

[_With an effort_ GANN prevents himself from replying. It is as much as he can do to keep his hands off the sleek, obsequious butler. MOORE after a glance at him goes out. The gamekeeper begins to walk up and down the room like a caged beast. In a moment he hears a sound and stops still. He turns his hat round and round in his hands.

[CLAUDE INSOLEY comes in. He is a man of thirty-five, rather dried-up, rather precise, neither good-looking nor plain, with a slightly dogmatic, authoritative manner.

CLAUDE.

Good evening, Gann.

GANN.

Good evening, sir.

[CLAUDE hesitates for a moment; to conceal a slight embarrassment he lights a cigarette. GANN watches him steadily.

CLAUDE.

I suppose you know what I’ve sent for you about.

GANN.

No, sir.

CLAUDE.