Penelope. W. Somerset Maugham

      I’m surprised that Mrs. O’Farrell should have gone out, because she expected me.

      Peyton.

      [Handing Mrs. Golightly a paper.] Yes, ma’am.

      Mrs. Golightly.

      [Taking it.] What is this?

      Peyton.

      The Church Times, ma’am.

      Mrs. Golightly.

      [With a look of exasperation at Barlow.] Oh, thank you. … I think I will have a cup of tea, please.

      Peyton.

      Very good, ma’am.

      [Exit.

      Mrs. Golightly.

      I wonder why on earth Penelope should insist on my reading the Church Times.

      Barlow.

      I’ve just had a telegram from her.

      Mrs. Golightly.

      So have I, asking me to come at once. [With a ray of light.] Perhaps we shall find some explanation in the Church Times.

      Barlow.

      Nonsense. What can the Church Times have to do with the Archduchess Anastasia?

      Mrs. Golightly.

      My dear Davenport, what are you talking about?

      [Peyton enters to announce Professor Golightly and immediately afterwards goes out. Golightly is a tall, spare man with grey hair, well groomed and alert. He is neatly dressed, quite tidy, and might just as well be a lawyer or a doctor as a professor of mathematics. He is clean-shaven.

      Peyton.

      Professor Golightly.

      Golightly.

      Hulloa, Davenport! [To his wife.] My dear, you’re the last person I expected to find here. I thought there was a meeting of the Missionary Society at the Albert Hall.

      [Peyton comes in with a tray on which are tea-things, a glass of barley-water, and a copy of the “Athenæum.”

      Mrs. Golightly.

      Oh, thank you.

      Peyton.

      [To Golightly.] Mrs. O’Farrell said, will you have a glass of barley-water, sir?

      Golightly.

      Barley-water!

      Peyton.

      And I was to bring you the Athenæum. We couldn’t get this week’s, sir, but this is last week’s, and Mrs. O’Farrell hopes it will do as well.

      Golightly.

      [With a faint smile.] It’s very kind of you to have taken so much trouble.

      Peyton.

      Thank you, sir.

      [Exit.

      Golightly.

      What on earth does Penelope want me to do with last week’s Athenæum and a glass of barley-water?

      Barlow.

      Well, presumably she wants you to drink the one and to read the other.

      Golightly.

      [To his wife.] My dear, I think it’s very hard that you should have brought up our only child on the idea that my favourite form of refreshment is barley-water.

      Barlow.

      It looks as if Penelope expected you, too.

      Golightly.

      I’ve just had a wire from her.

      Barlow.

      Have you? I wonder why on earth she wired to you.

      Mrs. Golightly.

      It’s so extraordinary that she shouldn’t be here. It makes me feel very nervous.

      Golightly.

      Well, frankly, I couldn’t make head or tail of it, so I jumped into a motor cab and came round from the club at once.

      [Peyton comes in, followed by Beadsworth. He is a middle-aged solicitor, with a benign manner.

      Peyton.

      Mr. Beadsworth.

      Golightly.

      Well, I’m hanged.

      Barlow.

      My dear Charles, I wish you wouldn’t be slangy. It’s gone out in our set.

      Beadsworth.

      [Shaking hands with Mrs. Golightly.] I’ve just had a telegram from Penelope asking me to come at once. [Turning to Peyton.] Will you let Mrs. O’Farrell know I’m here?

      Golightly.

      She’s out.

      Peyton.

      Mrs. O’Farrell said, would you make yourself comfortable, sir, and we’ve got the Law Times if you’d like to read it, and will you have a glass of port, sir?

      [Beadsworth looks round at the others in bewilderment.

      Golightly.

      By all means have a glass of port, and I’ll swop it for my barley-water.

      Beadsworth.

      [To Peyton.] Thank you.

      Peyton.

      [Handing him the paper.] Very good, sir.

      [Exit.

      Beadsworth.

      What does she want me to do with the Law Times?

      Golightly.

      I asked the same question when Peyton handed me last week’s Athenæum, and Davenport, with the perspicacity that distinguishes him, answered: read it.

      Beadsworth.

      Can you tell me what Penelope wants? Her telegram suggested that she wished to see me not as an old friend, but in my official capacity as the family solicitor.

      Golightly.

      I haven’t an idea. I thought her telegram most mysterious.

      Mrs. Golightly.

      I wish she’d come in. I’m beginning to be dreadfully uneasy.

      Barlow.

      [Rather pompously.] I think I can put your minds at rest. I am in a position to explain the whole matter to you. The telegram she sent me makes it perfectly clear. I daresay you know that the Archduchess Anastasia is a patient of Dickie’s. And a very nice patient for him to have. I’ve never met her, though I happen to know several members of her family, and she’s a very cultivated, pleasant woman. I’ve always said to Dickie that that is the sort of practice he ought to get. The middle classes do a doctor no good.

      Golightly.

      My dear Davenport, do go on with your story.

      Barlow.

      Well, it appears that the Archduchess Anastasia has signified her desire to know Penelope. Very charming and graceful action on her part, and just like her. Of course she’s extremely grateful to Dickie for all he’s done. He’s worked a miraculous cure, and I daresay she’s heard that Penelope is my niece. It’s a maxim you can always go on: royalty knows everything. And the long and the short of it is that she’s coming to lunch here. Of course Penelope knows nothing about