THE COLLECTED PLAYS OF W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM. Уильям Сомерсет Моэм

of his own grievances.] I've 'ad something to put up with, I 'ave.

      John.

      Really?

      James.

      Oh, he's treated me shockin'! He simply treated me like dirt. I wouldn't 'ave stood it a minute, except for Jenny's sake. I wasn't good enough for 'im, if you please. And the way he used to look right through me as if I wasn't there at all—Oh, I'll be even with 'im now.

      John.

      What are you going to do?

      James.

      Never you mind. I'm going to make it hot for 'im.

      John.

      D'you think that'll do you any good?

      James.

      [Springing up.] Yes. And I mean to....

      John.

      [Interrupting.] Now sit down, there's a good chap, and let's have a little talk about it.

      James.

      [Angrily.] You're trying to bamboozle me.

      John.

      Nonsense.

      James.

      Oh, yes, you are. Don't try to deny it. I can see through you as if you was a pane of glass. You people in the West End—you think you know everything.

      John.

      I assure you....

      James.

      [Interrupting.] But I've had a City training, and you can lay anything you like there ain't no flies on me.

      John.

      We're both men of the world, Mr. Bush. Will you do me a great favour as a—friend?

      James.

      [Suspiciously.] That depends on what it is.

      John.

      It's merely to listen to me quietly for two or three minutes.

      James.

      I don't mind doing that.

      John.

      Well, the fact is—Basil's going away, and he wants to get rid of the furniture and the house. What d'you think it's worth, as an auctioneer?

      James.

      [Looking round.] It's a very different business what a thing's worth, and what it'll fetch.

      John.

      Of course, but a clever man like you....

      James.

      Now then, no bluff. I tell you it won't work with me.... D'you include plate and linen?

      John.

      Everything.

      James.

      Well, if it was well sold—by a man as knew his business....

      John.

      If you sold it, for instance?

      James.

      It might fetch a hundred pounds—it might fetch a hundred and fifty.

      John.

      That wouldn't be a bad present to make to any one, would it?

      James.

      No. I think I can agree with you there.

      John.

      Well, Basil thought of giving the entire contents of the house to your mother and sister.

      James.

      To tell you the truth, it's no more than he ought to do.

      John.

      The condition is, of course, that nothing is said at the inquest.

      James.

      [With a sneer.] You make me laugh. D'you think you can gag me by giving a houseful of furniture to my mother?

      John.

      I had no such exalted opinion of your disinterestedness, Mr. Bush. I come to you now.

      James.

      [Sharply.] What d'you mean by that?

      John.

      It appears that you owe Basil a good deal of money. Can you pay it?

      James.

      No.

      John.

      Also it appears that there was some difficulty with your accounts in your last place.

      James.

      That's a lie.

      John.

      Possibly. But altogether I fancy we could make it uncommonly nasty for you if you made a fuss. If dirty linen is going to be washed in public—there's generally a good deal to be done on both sides.

      James.

      I don't care. I mean to get my own back. If I can only get my knife into that man—I'll take the consequences.

      John.

      On the other hand—if you won't make a fuss at the inquest, I'll give you fifty pounds.

      James.

      [Jumping up indignantly.] Are you trying to bribe me?

      John.

      [Calmly.] Yes.

      James.

      I would 'ave you know that I'm a gentleman, and what's more, I'm an Englishman. And I'm proud of it. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I've never 'ad any one try and bribe me before.

      John.

      [Indifferently.] Otherwise you would, doubtless, have accepted.

      James.

      I've got more than half a mind to knock you down.

      John.

      [With a slight smile.] Come, come, Mr. Bush, don't be ridiculous. You'd far better keep quiet, you know.

      James.

      [Scornfully.] What do you think fifty pounds is to me?

      John.

      [With a sharp look.] Who spoke of fifty pounds?

      James.

      You did.

      John.

      You must have mistaken me. A hundred and fifty.

      James.

      Oh! [At first he is surprised, then, as the amount sinks into his mind, grows doubtful.] That's a very different pair of shoes.

      John.

      I don't ask you to say anything untrue. After all, it's not worth while for a man of the world like you—a business man—to give way to petty spite. And we don't want to have any scandal. That would be just as unpleasant for you as for us.

      James.

      [Undecided.] There's no denying that she was hysterical. If he'd only treated me like a gentleman, I shouldn't have had anything to say.

      John.

      Well?

      James.

      [With a foxy, keen glance at John.] Make it two 'undred, and I'll say done.

      John.

      [Firmly.] No. You can take a hundred and fifty, or go to the devil.

      James.

      Oh, well, 'and it over.

      John.

      [Taking