The Silver Box | Page 5

in a mirror. Lifting his hands, with fingers spread, he
stares at it; then looks again at JACK, clenching his fist as if to batter in
his sleeping, smiling face. Suddenly he tilts the rest o f the whisky into
the glass and drinks it. With cunning glee he takes the silver box and
purse and pockets them.] I 'll score you off too, that 's wot I 'll do!
[He gives a little snarling laugh and lurches to the door. His shoulder
rubs against the switch; the light goes out. There is a sound as of a
closing outer door.]
The curtain falls.

The curtain rises again at once.
SCENE II
In the BARTHWICK'S dining-room. JACK is still asleep; the morning
light is coming through the curtains. The time is half-past eight.
WHEELER, brisk person enters with a dust-pan, and MRS. JONES
more slowly with a scuttle.
WHEELER. [Drawing the curtains.] That precious husband of yours
was round for you after you'd gone yesterday, Mrs. Jones. Wanted your
money for drink, I suppose. He hangs about the corner here half the
time. I saw him outside the "Goat and Bells" when I went to the post
last night. If I were you I would n't live with him. I would n't live with a
man that raised his hand to me. I wouldn't put up with it. Why don't you
take your children and leave him? If you put up with 'im it'll only make
him worse. I never can see why, because a man's married you, he
should knock you about.
MRS. JONES. [Slim, dark-eyed, and dark-haired; oval-faced, and with
a smooth, soft, even voice; her manner patient, her way of talking quite
impersonal; she wears a blue linen dress, and boots with holes.] It was
nearly two last night before he come home, and he wasn't himself. He
made me get up, and he knocked me about; he didn't seem to know
what he was saying or doing. Of course I would leave him, but I'm
really afraid of what he'd do to me. He 's such a violent man when he's
not himself.
WHEELER. Why don't you get him locked up? You'll never have any
peace until you get him locked up. If I were you I'd go to the police
court tomorrow. That's what I would do.
MRS. JONES. Of course I ought to go, because he does treat me so

badly when he's not himself. But you see, Bettina, he has a very hard
time--he 's been out of work two months, and it preys upon his mind.
When he's in work he behaves himself much better. It's when he's out
of work that he's so violent.
WHEELER. Well, if you won't take any steps you 'll never get rid of
him.
MRS. JONES. Of course it's very wearing to me; I don't get my sleep at
nights. And it 's not as if I were getting help from him, because I have
to do for the children and all of us. And he throws such dreadful things
up at me, talks of my having men to follow me about. Such a thing
never happens; no man ever speaks to me. And of course, it's just the
other way. It's what he does that's wrong and makes me so unhappy.
And then he 's always threatenin' to cut my throat if I leave him. It's all
the drink, and things preying on his mind; he 's not a bad man really.
Sometimes he'll speak quite kind to me, but I've stood so much from
him, I don't feel it in me to speak kind back, but just keep myself to
myself. And he's all right with the children too, except when he's not
himself.
WHEELER. You mean when he's drunk, the beauty.
MRS. JONES. Yes. [Without change of voice] There's the young
gentleman asleep on the sofa.
[They both look silently at Jack.]
MRS. JONES. [At last, in her soft voice.] He does n't look quite
himself.
WHEELER. He's a young limb, that's what he is. It 's my belief he was
tipsy last night, like your husband. It 's another kind of bein' out of
work that sets him to drink. I 'll go and tell Marlow. This is his job.
[She goes.]
[Mrs. Jones, upon her knees, begins a gentle sweeping.]
JACK. [Waking.] Who's there? What is it?
MRS. JONES. It's me, sir, Mrs. Jones.
JACK. [Sitting up and looking round.] Where is it--what--what time is
it?
MRS. JONES. It's getting on for nine o'clock, sir.
JACK. For nine! Why--what! [Rising, and loosening his tongue;
putting hands to his head, and staring hard at Mrs. Jones.] Look here,
you, Mrs.----Mrs. Jones--don't you say you caught me asleep here.

MRS. JONES. No, sir, of