THE FUGITIVE

A Play in Four Acts

PERSONS OF THE PLAY

George Dedmond, a civilian
Clare, his wife
general sir Charles Dedmond, K.C.B., his father. 
Lady Dedmond, his mother
Reginald Huntingdon, Clare’s brother
Edward Fullarton, her friend
Dorothy Fullarton, her friend
Paynter, a manservant
Burney, a maid
Twisden, a solicitor
Haywood, a tobacconist
Malise, a writer
Mrs. Miler, his caretaker
the Porter at his lodgings
A boy messenger
Arnaud, a waiter at “The Gascony”
Mr. Varley, manager of “The Gascony”
Two ladies with large hats, A lady and gentleman, A languid lord,
     his companion, A young man, A blond gentleman, A dark gentleman.

Act I. George Dedmond’s Flat.  Evening.

Act II.  The rooms of Malise.  Morning.

Act III.  Scene I. The rooms of Malice.  Late afternoon.

          SceneII.  The rooms of Malise.  Early Afternoon.

Act IV.  A small supper room at “The Gascony.”

Between Acts I and II three nights elapse.

Between Acts II and Act III, Scene I, three months.

Between Act III, Scene I, and Act III, Scene II, three months.

Between Act III, Scene II, and Act IV, six months.

  “With a hey-ho chivy
  Hark forrard, hark forrard, tantivy!”

ACT I

The scene is the pretty drawing-room of a flat.  There are two doors, one open into the hall, the other shut and curtained.  Through a large bay window, the curtains of which are not yet drawn, the towers of Westminster can be seen darkening in a summer sunset; a grand piano stands across one corner.  The man-servant Paynter, clean-shaven and discreet, is arranging two tables for Bridge.

Burney, the maid, a girl with one of those flowery Botticellian faces only met with in England, comes in through the curtained door, which she leaves open, disclosing the glimpse of a white wall.  Paynter looks up at her; she shakes her head, with an expression of concern.

Paynter.  Where’s she gone?

Burney.  Just walks about, I fancy.

Paynter.  She and the Governor don’t hit it!  One of these days she’ll flit—­you’ll see.  I like her—­she’s a lady; but these thoroughbred ’uns—­it’s their skin and their mouths.  They’ll go till they drop if they like the job, and if they don’t, it’s nothing but jib—­jib—­jib.  How was it down there before she married him?