Part 78 (1/2)

STRANGER (feeling in his pocket). _He_ knew right enough. (Bringing out letters) Look here--here you are. This was how I found out.

(Selecting one) There--read that one.

LADY PEMBURY (taking it). Yes--that's John's writing. (She holds it out to him.)

STRANGER. Aren't you going to read it?

LADY PEMBURY (shaking her head pathetically). He didn't write it to _me_.

STRANGER. He didn't write it to _me_, if it comes to that.

LADY PEMBURY. You're her son--you have a right. I'm--n.o.body.

STRANGER (putting it back in his pocket). Oh well, please yourself.

LADY PEMBURY. Did Sir John provide for your mother?

STRANGER. Well, why shouldn't he? He was a rich man.

LADY PEMBURY. Not in those days. . . . But indeed--why shouldn't he? What else could he do? I'm glad he did.

STRANGER. And now he's going to provide for his loving son. He's rich enough for that in these days.

LADY PEMBURY. He's never seen you?

STRANGER. Never. The historic meeting of Father and Son will take place this afternoon. (With a feeble attempt at what he thinks is the aristocratic manner) Afraid the Governor will be in the deuce of a rage. Been exceedin' my allowance--what? Make it a thousand, dear old Gov.

LADY PEMBURY. Don't they call that blackmail?

STRANGER (violently). Now look here, I'd better tell you straight that there's no blackmail about this at all. He's my father, isn't he?

Well, can't a son come to his father if he's hard up? Where are your threatening letters? Where's the blackmail? Anyway, what's he going to do about it? Put his son in prison?

LADY PEMBURY (following her own thoughts). You're thirty. Thank G.o.d for that. We hadn't met then. . . . Ah, but he ought to have told me. He ought to have told me.

STRANGER. P'raps he thought you wouldn't marry him, if he did.

LADY PEMBURY. Do you think that was it? (Earnestly to him, as if he were an old friend) You know men--young men. I never had a son; I never had any brothers. Do they tell? They ought to, oughtn't they?

STRANGER. Well--well, if you ask _me_--I say, look here, this isn't the sort of thing one discusses with a lady.

LADY PEMBURY. Isn't it? But one can talk to a friend.

STRANGER (scornfully). You and me look like friends, don't we?

LADY PEMBURY (smiling). Well, we do, rather.

(He gets up hastily and moves further away from her.)

STRANGER. I know what _your_ game is. Don't think I don't see it.