Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 292

STRICKLAND. _I_ told you?

THE GIRL. You said so this afternoon.

STRICKLAND [_harshly_]. I didn't see you this afternoon!

THE GIRL [_without contradicting him_]. No, sir? [_She produces a time-table._] Then I found this time-table.

[_She holds it out. He s.n.a.t.c.hes it._]

STRICKLAND. Where did you find it?

THE GIRL. On your desk, sir.

STRICKLAND. On my desk?

THE GIRL. Yes, sir.

STRICKLAND [_suddenly and directly_]. You're lying!

THE GIRL. Why, Mr. Strickland!

STRICKLAND. That time-table never reached my desk! I lost it between the railroad station and my office.

THE GIRL. Did you, sir? But it's the same time-table: you see, you checked the midnight train. [_He looks at her suspiciously._] I reserved a stateroom for you.

STRICKLAND [_astonished_]. You reserved a stateroom?

THE GIRL [_smiling_]. I knew you'd forget it. You have your head so full of other things. So I telephoned as soon as you left the office.

STRICKLAND [_biting his lip angrily_]. I suppose you made the reservation in my own name?

THE GIRL. No, sir.

STRICKLAND [_immensely surprised_]. What?

THE GIRL. I thought you'd prefer some other name: you didn't want your trip to be known.

STRICKLAND. No, I didn't. [_A good deal startled, he looks at her as if he were about to ask, "How did you know that?" She returns his gaze unflinchingly. The question remains unasked. But a sudden thought strikes him._] What name did you give?

THE GIRL. Stevens, sir.

STRICKLAND [_thunderstruck_]. Stevens?

THE GIRL. Alfred Stevens.

STRICKLAND [_gasping_]. What made you choose that name?

THE GIRL. I don't know, sir.

STRICKLAND. You don't _know_?

THE GIRL. No, sir. It was just the first name that popped into my head.

I said "Stevens," and when the clerk asked for the first name, I said "Alfred."

STRICKLAND [_after a pause_]. Have you ever _known_ anybody of that name?

THE GIRL. No, sir.

STRICKLAND [_with curious insistence_]. You are _sure_ you never knew anybody of that name?

THE GIRL. How can I be sure? I may have; I don't remember it.

STRICKLAND [_abruptly_]. How old are you? [_He gives her no time to answer._] You're not twenty, are you?

THE GIRL [_smiling_]. Do you think so?

STRICKLAND [_continuing the current of his thoughts_]. And I'm forty-seven. It was more than twenty-five years ago.... You couldn't have known.

THE GIRL [_after a pause_]. No, sir.

STRICKLAND [_looking at her with something of fear in his eye_]. What is your name?

THE GIRL. Does it matter? You didn't recognize my _face_ a few minutes ago; my _name_ can't mean much to you. I'm just one of the office force: I'm the girl who answers when you push the b.u.t.ton three times. [_She opens a handbag._] These are the letters I brought with me.

STRICKLAND [_not offering to take them_]. What are they about?

THE GIRL [_opening the first_]. This is from a woman who wants to invest some money.

STRICKLAND. How much?

THE GIRL. Only a thousand dollars.

STRICKLAND. Why didn't you turn it over to the clerks?

THE GIRL. The savings of a lifetime, she writes.

STRICKLAND. What of it?

THE GIRL. She wrote that she had confidence in you. She says that she wants you to invest it for her yourself.

STRICKLAND. You shouldn't have bothered me with that. [_He pauses._] Did she inclose the money?

THE GIRL. Yes. A certified check.

[_She hands it over to him._]

STRICKLAND [_taking the check, and putting it in his pocketbook_]. Write her--oh, you know what to write: that I will give the matter my personal attention.