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CHARACTERS MARTIN SETON [a druggist]. JANE SETON [his wife]. CARRIE ANDREWS [niece of Jane]. EDDY HAY [assistant]. DOCTOR JOHN MASON.

THE SECOND LIE

SCENE. — A room in the home of MARTIN SETON. The room is comfortably furnished and serves the purpose of both living and dining room. There is a small round table in the centre from which the dishes of the mid-day dinner are only partially cleared. Three straight-backed chairs are carelessly pushed back from the table. To the right there is a large chair, with a foot-rest, which has somewhat the appearance of an invalid's chair. A stand with papers and magazines is placed beside it. An old fashioned china cupboard with plates in rows stands against the right wall, and on either side of the cupboard there is a door; one, with a screen before it, leads into the kitchen and the other into an inner part of the house. In the centre of the back of the stage is another door with a fan-light above it. An electric buzzer is attached to the door frame. When this door is open, part of the interior of a small drug store can be seen, showing that, in a common small-town fashion, the house and store are attached.

To the left of this door, and hanging upon the wall, is a small wooden cabinet with a key in the lock. Beneath it is an old-fashioned sofa. The left side of the room faces a side street and in it there are a door and a window opening in to a narrow garden. Light is provided by the window and by the glass pane is in the outside door. In front of the window is a sewing-machine littered with silk frills of a brilliant colour.

The curtain rises upon CARRIE ANDREWS, a pretty, frizzy-headed girl of seventeen, in a morning dress of blue gingham. She has paused in her work of clearing away the dishes to measure the silk frills, and is engaged in pinning one around the hem of her gingham dress. While she is considering the effect with pursed lips, the door to the store opens and EDDY HAY'S head appears in the gap. He is a bright looking boy of about CARRIE'S age with round inquiring eyes and hair so brushed and plastered that it looks like a skull cap which is too tight. Seeing CARRIE, he whistles softly, but that young lady pays no attention. EDDY follows his head into the room, closing the door behind him. He observes CARRIE'S proceedings with critical interest.

   EDDY. Too short by half a yard, I should say!

   CARRIE [musingly]. But the new skirts are so much narrower. [She awakes to the full appreciation of his masculine impertinence and continues with asperity] What do you know about it? Who asked your opinion? I thought you were tending store.

   EDDY. I thought you were washing dishes.

   CARRIE [haughtily]. I am.

   EDDY [tentatively lifting some plates from the table]. Want any help?

   CARRIE. Certainly not! [EDDY promptly replaces plates on the table.] [She continues hastily] I mean — who'll look after the store?

   EDDY [picking up plates again]. Hasn't been a soul in all morning. This drug business is a "has been", if you ask me.

   CARRIE. When I ask you, your opinion may be welcome.

   EDDY [banging down the plates again]. Oh, very well!

   CARRIE [less frigidly]. Of course I know what you mean. Business is bad. But things will pick up when the new man comes on Monday.

[EDDY, propitiated, places the pile of plates on a tray taken from the top of the china cupboard. CARRIE lays down her sewing and prepares to help him.]

   EDDY [beginning to gather knives and forks]. Will it? Well — it won't! What I can't do with this here business no one else can. It's the high cost of dying. People can't afford to be sick any more. Even Old Bill Bailey's stopped takin' Bitters. Came in yesterday to see if we couldn't allow him somethin' on his empty bottles.

   CARRIE [nodding]. What Uncle needs is a soda fountain. Folks can always afford ice cream.

   EDDY [bitterly]. Yes. And he'll get one too — I don't think! The business will last his time. After that, it can go to the bow-wows or the bolsheviks.

   CARRIE. He might think of Aunt Jane.

   EDDY. Him? Think of her? Nay, nay Pauline!

[They both giggle. By this time the table is cleared and together they spread a dark red cloth upon it and set a reading lamp in the centre.]

   CARRIE. I think a woman is terribly foolish to marry at all!

   EDDY [sentimentally]. Only if she married the wrong man.

   CARRIE [crisply]. Why risk it? — Eddy Hay, you've been using that new perfume again!

   EDDY. Only a speck-on my hair. [Pats his hair with a loving hand.]

   CARRIE. You'll get fired. I suppose you think Uncle's got a weak nose as well as a weak heart? [EDDY, looking disturbed, tries to rub some of the perfume off with a handkerchief.]

   CARRIE [watching his futile efforts with enjoyment]. Where is uncle anyway?

   EDDY. In the dispensary.

   CARRIE [with some alarm]. What's he doing there? I thought he wasn't supposed to do prescriptions any more? If there's another mistake made —

   EDDY. He's only fillin' his own capsules — not much chance of him poisoning himself. He ain't exactly a philanthropist. [They giggle again. But CARRIE suddenly sobers.]

   CARRIE. It's not nice to laugh. Poor Uncle!

   EDDY [sarcastically]. You think a heap of him, don't you?

   CARRIE. No, I don't, and I don't pretend to. He's not nice. I — there's something about him — it's silly, I know — but I'm fair scared of Uncle sometimes.

   EDDY [drawing himself up]. What's he do to you?

   CARRIE [puzzled]. Nothing, nothing at all!

   EDDY. Well, if that ain't like a girl!

   CARRIE [shrewdly]. You know perfectly well what I mean, you're scared of him yourself.

   EDDY. Me?

   CARRIE [nodding]. And so's Aunt Jane. But that's no reason for us to laugh at him when he's so ill. It must be a dreadful thing — [Goes closer to EDDY and speaks in lowered tone] Do you know how long the doctor thinks —?

   EDDY [also in lowered tone]. Maybe a year — maybe longer. It's that terribly slow kind!

   CARRIE. A year! Oh, poor Aunt!

   EDDY. You've said it! Sufferin' snakes, I wouldn't be in her shoes for a gold mine!

[The electric buzzer sounds sharply. They both start.]

   EDDY [striking an attitude]. Hark! They need me at the Front — farewell! [Exit EDDY by door at back. CARRIE listens a moment and, as nothing happens, begins to place the chairs in order. Steps are heard on the path outside. The street door opens and JANE SETON enters. She is a slight woman, of some thirty years. She is still very attractive, but her face has faded before its time. She wears an air of anxiety, chronic, but well-controlled. Her whole manner is disciplined; her voice quiet and colourless. She is dressed neatly but with no effort to make the best of herself. She carries a string shopping bag. Entering, she casts a quick glance around the room but waits a moment before she speaks.]

   JANE [quietly]. Where is your uncle, Carrie?

   CARRIE. In the dispensary, Aunt.

   JANE. I saw a customer in the store as I passed. Where was Eddy? Gossiping with you?

   CARRIE. Only for a moment, Aunt.

   JANE. It doesn't look well to have no one behind the counter.

   CARRIE [tossing her head]. I shouldn't think having Eddy behind it would improve it much! [JANE smiles faintly and removes her hat, smoothing her hair with her hand.]

   JANE [after a pause and in a lower voice]. Did Eddy say what your uncle was doing?

   CARRIE [gathering up her silk from the machine]. "Filling capsules," he said. [She notices an increased anxiety on her Aunt's face.] It's nothing to worry over, Aunt. It's his own capsules he's filling.

[JANE crosses to the small cabinet hanging on the wall and takes from it two small boxes of the kind druggists use. She opens them and examines their contents.]

   JANE [in a low, anxious tone]. Why should he make new capsules? He has two boxes here. The one he is using, and another one untouched.

   CARRIE. He makes them just for something to do, I guess. He's so fond of fussing with drugs.

   JANE [more to herself than to the girl]. He never does anything without a reason.

   CARRIE. Well, perhaps his reason is that after the new man comes there won't be room for them both in the dispensary. The new man will do all the prescriptions, won't he?

   JANE. Yes. Dr. Mason thinks it will be wiser. Your Uncle's hand is sometimes uncertain. But — [She sighs.]

   CARRIE [nodding]. I know.

   JANE [with her odd air of conversing with herself]. His last normal interest gone! Nothing left but a dead level — and waiting — and watching —

   CARRIE [giggling]. He certainly is a good watcher! Do you know, Aunt Jane, he always puts me in mind of a cat —

   JANE. Carrie!

   CARRIE. Well, he does!

[The raised tones of a man's voice are heard in the store. CARRIE snatches up the remainder of her silk and goes out hurriedly by door to right as if wishing to avoid someone. MARTIN SETON enters from the store. He is a tall man with narrow head and face, thin lips and hatchet chin. His eyes are small and light in color. His appearance is that of a person in chronic ill-health. His voice is suave. His manner conveys a courtesy which has the effect of a sneer.]

   MARTIN [to no one in particular]. That boy grows stupider every day! [To his wife] Ah, Jane, where are those capsules I am using?

   JANE. In the cupboard, where they always are. You have almost two boxes left. I have just been looking at them.

   MARTIN. Looking at them? — very thoughtful of you. [A pause.] Here is an extra capsule. [Hands it to her.] Please place this in the box I am, at present, using.

   JANE [puzzled]. Only one?

   MARTIN. Your habit of asking unnecessary questions is very trying — for an invalid.

[JANE takes the tablet slowly and taking one of the boxes from the cupboard drops it in. The buzzer sounds, as if pressed by some customer in a hurry. MARTIN, who has been closely watching his wife out of the corner of his eye, makes an irritated movement.]

   MARTIN [with a sharper edge to his voice]. That boy! Why can he never attend to business? He is certainly an idiot!

   JANE. He is not an idiot — far from it. But he is a boy. Things will be better when the new man comes.

   MARTIN. You are an optimist, Jane.

   JANE. You will have less responsibility at any rate. [She places the capsule box on the stand beside the invalid chair.]

   MARTIN. Exactly — less responsibility — a delightful prospect for a man of my age! But you always were a bit of a hypocrite, Jane. [JANE makes no reply but begins to tidy the machine which CARRIE has left in confusion.] I wish you would cultivate a more restful manner, my dear. In other words — [his suave voice hardens] sit down! I have something to say. [Notices the string bag on the table and reverts to original tone] You've been out, have you?

   JANE. Yes. Only to the grocer's.

   MARTIN. Why say "only"? Do I ever object to your going where you please? [He smiles with malicious enjoyment as she makes no answer.] Did you see anyone?

   JANE. No.

   MARTIN. No one in the grocer's?

   JANE. The clerks, of course.

   MARTIN. No customers?

   JANE. No one of importance. Only Dr. Mason.

   MARTIN [raising his eyebrows]. Only? Dear me, what an unkind way to speak of our devoted doctor! And what is his opinion of his patient's progress?

   JANE. He said nothing about you at all.

   MARTIN. No? Ah, well, I suppose a man in my condition ceases to be interesting. Better taste not to — er — look too far ahead. Yes — I see. [He raises himself backward and forward on his toes with a curious teetering motion which is evidently a habit which she finds particularly trying.]

   JANE [sharply]. Don't do that!

[MARTIN smiles and continues to teeter.]

   MARTIN [musingly]. A year — a whole year! — Still, when one has cultivated patience for ten years (as I see you are cultivating it now, Jane) no doubt its practice becomes second nature. Strange, though, that, in thinking things out, you have both omitted to ascertain my views. "You have a year longer," says our good friend the doctor. And everyone expects me to feel infinitely grateful. But supposing I don't feel grateful. What then?

   JANE [in a mechanical voice]. The doctor says —

   MARTIN. I know what the doctor says. I've something to say, too. If you'll stop your damned fussing for a moment I'll say it!

   JANE [without interest]. Well!

[He turns from her, apparently fighting for the control of some emotion which threatens to interfere with a preconceived plan of procedure. He picks up the box of capsules from the stand and fidgets with it — taps his fingers upon the lid, clears his throat, tries to clear the blackness from his face, and finally speaks. He has dropped his politely tormenting tone and speaks with a brisk precision and a kind of cheerfulness, which, in such a man, is infinitely more sinister.]

   MARTIN. Well, Jane, I think I'll have to upset your plans a bit.. The fact is that I've decided to do without the year which the doctor gives me. I don't want it. I won't have it! This fading out business is not good enough. A dramatic exit suits me better. Do you understand?

   JANE [slowly]. I do not.

   MARTIN [as if arguing with himself]. I am essentially a dramatic person — though I don't look it. To die by inches — for a year — no, no, it's too tame! [Turning to his wife with his thin smile] You ought to appreciate that, Jane, for you, too, are a dramatic person — although you, too, do not look it! You and I have played our little drama through very creditably. Jane Seton, heroine; Martin Seton, villain; Dr. Mason — ahem! — family doctor. There is no hero in our piece — as yet. It will be more unusual if there never is one. And as for the ending — I put it to you as an artist, Jane, would you really desire a happy ending? Surely not?

[There is silence for a moment and then JANE speaks slowly, as if trying to solve a problem in her mind.]

   JANE. What can you do? There is nothing you can do — though you would if you could, I know.

   MARTIN [brightly]. Of course I would. You do me only justice.

   JANE [still in same repressed tone]. If you are trying to frighten me, you can't. I know you. I know you will never kill yourself. . . .

   MARTIN [interrupting]. Right! Quite right. That would never do. "Suicide while of unsound mind." — No! Besides, I am a religious man, I hope. I shall take no risk of unpleasant complications hereafter. That has been the problem.

   JANE [dryly]. An unsolvable one, I should think.

   MARTIN. Well, not necessarily. There are always possibilities. Chance, for instance, or — er — other outside elements.

   JANE [looking up quickly]. Outside? What do you mean?

   MARTIN. I see you begin to get the idea. And you are quite right, Jane, you are quite right!

   JANE [her composure breaking up]. Oh!

[The buzzer rings sharply.]

   MARTIN [in a conversational tone]. The store is busy to-day. I wish that boy were not such a fool. I advise you to get rid of him, Jane, when you take things over. Where's Carrie? [JANE stares at him in a fascinated way and does not answer. Sharply] We want this conversation to be private, I suppose?

   JANE. Are you quite sane?

   MARTIN. Quite. Now please do not be absurd. You have a good brain — use it. Don't act as if I had asked you to commit murder. I have respected your scruples. Consider the matter sensibly and you will see that you have done nothing to disturb the most sensitive conscience — nothing at all!

   JANE [in low-toned horror]. Done!

   MARTIN. I used the past tense — yes. It is always well to have a thing accomplished before one talks about it.

   JANE [in her colourless voice again]. There is no sense in what you say.

   MARTIN. No? I hope you will change your opinion. I think, myself, that I am explaining things rather neatly. My plan has been thought out logically and I am rather proud of it. It's a perfectly feasible plan. Look here. [He opens the box and holds up a white capsule.] Do you see this? [She glances at it as if compelled.] What is it?

   JANE. One of your usual capsules, I suppose.

   MARTIN [with enjoyment]. No, Jane. You suppose wrongly. It looks the same — but it may be very different. It may be so different that I have only to swallow it and — puff! — [making a blowing gesture with lips and hands] the problem I mentioned a moment ago is solved!

   JANE [sharply]. What problem? What do you mean?

   MARTIN [paying no attention]. My first crude idea was to place this extra capsule in the box myself. But, as you anticipated, I saw I couldn't do that. I am a religious man. Then I thought — supposing the capsule were to be placed in the box by other hands than mine, would that not meet the difficulty? It would. Then the question arose — whose hands? I thought of yours, dear Jane, at once. But I knew you would have scruples, too. I felt I must respect them. I could not ask you to lay a weight upon your conscience, which I know is tender. Then the thought came — if you were to place the capsule in the box unknowingly — why, then, that would be very different.

   JANE [gaspingly]. Stop it! Stop this crazy nonsense! [She makes an effort to snatch the box from him but he is too quick for her.] I don't believe you! You are trying to frighten me as you have frightened me before.

   MARTIN. Nonsense! You are frightening yourself. I am trying to explain to you that you have done nothing. You are perfectly innocent.

   JANE [controlling herself]. Let us not carry this fooling further. It may amuse you. But it is dangerous. If, for any reason, you were to die suddenly, I might be left always with a ghastly fear that I — that I —

   MARTIN [impatiently]. Yes, yes. I can see the effect it might have if you were to allow yourself to become morbid. You might find it difficult, for instance, to settle down comfortably — to — in fact, to marry again, if your widowhood were in any way — yes, I quite see that. Besides, there would be the other party to consider. If he had any doubt —

   JANE. You are a devil!

   MARTIN. But all this is mere speculation — and quite unnecessary. You need have absolutely no regrets. You placed the tablet in the box —

   JANE. Stop it, I say!

   MARTIN [placing box in his vest pocket]. Certainly, I have said all that is necessary. Except to thank you. You have been a good wife, Jane. Not loving, perhaps, but dutiful. Religion has helped you as it has helped me. And if at times our life together has seemed humdrum and some younger man, such, for instance, as our good doctor, has seemed to place at a disadvantage an old fogie like myself, I am quite sure that you have never encouraged such comparisons.

   JANE [in a low voice and wringing her hands]. Devil! Devil!

   MARTIN [paying no attention]. Yes, you are a good woman, Jane. During our life together you have developed. What you have lost in beauty you have gained in character. You control yourself well, too. I am sure that your conduct — though not loving — has been admirable all these years. Restraint — I think that has been the key note, Jane? A fine restraint, based, I feel certain, upon the highest principles. Even the doctor has never felt sure — [JANE, with a gesture of utter despair, hurries from the room. MARTIN looks after her with his thin smile. Then he takes the capsule box from his pocket and taps it thoughtfully with his long finger tips. Musingly] Now let us see!

[Enter CARRIE from the kitchen.]

   CARRIE [hesitating]. Oh, I thought Aunt was here!

   MARTIN. She was. [CARRIE moves to follow her aunt.] I think you will find that your aunt is going out.

   CARRIE. Out?

   MARTIN. To the doctor's, I think.

   CARRIE [pausing]. Are you feeling worse, Uncle?

   MARTIN. Not at all. But your Aunt is nervous . . . . On second thoughts she may be too nervous to leave me alone — at present. I must find some means of setting her mind at rest. [CARRIE looks puzzled, shrugs, and goes out in search of JANE. MARTIN appears to think deeply, still tapping the box. Then, as if satisfied with some conclusion, he crosses to the cupboard where the extra box of capsules is. He pauses for a moment, teetering on his toes. Then, smiling his particularly nasty smile, he opens the cupboard and exchanges the capsule boxes, placing the box containing the poisoned capsule on the shelf and returning to the table with the other box in his hand. Seating himself in his invalid chair he stretches himself out as if preparing for rest. Calling] CARRIE!

[After a short delay, CARRIE re-enters.]

   CARRIE [in a sulky voice and making no move to approach him]. Yes, Uncle.

   MARTIN. I'm tired — done out. I shall try for a nap. Pull down the blind and keep the house quiet if possible.

[CARRIE crosses over and pulls down the blind with a jerk. A pleasant green gloom fills the room.]

   CARRIE [pausing, as if upon sudden impulse, on her way back to the door and speaking in a tone of active dislike]. Do you know what has happened to upset Aunt?

   MARTIN [in a surprised voice]. Your Aunt upset? Now that you speak of it, she did act oddly. I fear the strain of my long illness is telling on your Aunt. I'll speak to her later. At present I must rest. [He waves her away with his hand. CARRIE leaves the room with an angry flounce and bangs the door. MARTIN smiles slightly at the sound and then composes himself again. The hand holding the capsule box is resting on the table and he deliberately allows his grasp of it to slacken as might happen with a man in sound sleep. A short time passes. Then the door to the right opens and JANE enters. She comes in softly, evidently hoping to find him asleep. Seeing him as she expects, she appears relieved and, crossing quickly to the chair, looks down upon him with an expression in which fear and hate are blended. Her eyes rove over him as if looking for something and a look of satisfaction heralds her discovery of the box under his fingers. For a moment she stands thinking. Then swiftly and silently she crosses to the cabinet and takes from it the box which she finds there. Still making no sound she returns to the table and with infinite precaution slides the other box from under his slack fingers and substitutes the one from the cabinet. The box from the table she places in her pocket. The relief of accomplishing this substitution safely is so great that when she returns to the table she leans against it exhausted and breathing quickly. The buzzer rings. She starts. MARTIN stirs. His hand closes sharply over the box. He appears to wake and seeing her standing so near and in such evident agitation, he smiles in polite mockery.] Too bad you did not think to disconnect the buzzer. My awakening seems to have been inopportune. [Glances at the box in his hand.] You were contemplating a little harmless theft, I fancy.

   JANE [regaining her coolness now that she thinks he does not suspect the substitution, and anxious to foster his deception]. Yes, I was. I think this joke is played out.

   MARTIN [stretching and yawning]. Oh no, not played out! There is still another act — the last act. [Stands up and looks at his watch.] But you may not have long to wait for that. Time for my capsule, I see. [Opens the box and selects a capsule at random.] This is really quite exciting. Could I trouble you for some water? [As she does not stir] No? Well, never mind. I can manage. [He swallows the capsule. They both stand motionless. Then, with a shrug, he closes the box with a snap and places it carefully in his inner vest pocket.] Well, nothing happened that time! Still, it was exciting. I begin to feel a lively interest in my own case.

   JANE [slowly and distinctly]. I do not believe that there is any poison in the extra capsule. I believe you are playing this absurd game for the sole purpose of destroying my peace of mind. Yet I cannot be sure. You know I cannot be sure. My uncertainty is the spice which flavours the situation for you. But I do not intend to submit to this tamely — as I have submitted to so much. I shall inform the doctor and the minister of the whole farcical affair.

   MARTIN [gently jeering]. The doctor? The minister? Tut, tut my dear Jane! I thought you might do that. But be careful. Consider the inherent absurdity of such a tale. Consider a certain lack of imagination in ministers and doctors, otherwise so sympathetic. It would grieve me deeply to learn, from anyone lacking in insight, that my wife harbored such strange fancies. How could such delusions be accounted for, in a person of sane mind. [Pauses to smile, and adds with infinite suggestiveness] Unless, indeed, that person had some sinister purpose in preparing a defence. . . .

   JANE [with a gasping scream]. OH!

   MARTIN. Just so. Better not say anything about the matter, my dear. Let it be a little secret between you and me.

[The buzzer sounds.]

   MARTIN. Well, I have had my nap, I had better show myself in the store. Business as usual — eh, Jane?

[JANE stares at him without a word as he goes out by door at back. Then she sinks upon nearest chair, gazing straight before her. Enter CARRIE. She crosses to window and pulls up the blind, hums an air, and looks out of the window happily.]

   CARRIE. I think I'll go out, Aunt Jane — even if there isn't any place to go to. It's such a perfectly gorgeous afternoon! Are you feeling better now?

   JANE [rousing]. Yes, I am feeling better.

   CARRIE. That's good. You looked so strange you frightened me. Whatever was the matter?

   JANE. I felt worried.

   CARRIE. About Uncle?

   JANE. Yes.

   CARRIE. But didn't the doctor say it would be a long time — I mean — [Stammers and hesitates.]

   JANE. Yes, but the doctor — doesn't quite understand your uncle.

   CARRIE [shrugging]. Nobody does, I guess. He's a queer one!

   JANE [in mechanical rebuke]. Carrie!

   CARRIE. Well he is. Everybody knows it!

   JANE [as if arrested by the phrase ]. Is that true, Carrie? Do people speak of your uncle as strange?

   CARRIE [stubbornly]. Yes, they do.

   JANE [with some eagerness]. And me? Do they think that I am strange too, Carrie?

   CARRIE [puzzled]. No, of course not, there's nothing strange about you, Aunt Jane.

   JANE [rising and beginning to pin on her hat]. You're right! Character ought to count for something. Truth is always safest. And I'll have this for proof of what I say. [Takes capsule box from her pocket.] Carrie, I'm going out — I have to consult the doctor. I shan't be long.

   CARRIE. Why, Aunt!

   JANE. I can't explain now.

[She goes out hastily.]

   CARRIE [staring at the closed door]. Well, for the land's sake!

[Enter EDDY from store.]

   EDDY. Hello, Carrie! Getting your picture taken? Say, let's run down and get a sundae. Old man's tending store. They've got a new sundae down at the corner — some swell mouthful. [Jingles money in his pocket.]

   CARRIE [slowly]. I don't know. Aunt's gone out. She's terribly worried.

   EDDY. What about? The uncle's bright as paint to-day. Made a joke — and laughed at it himself. Re-mark-able!

   CARRIE. Oh, well, I'm not doing any good staying here. I'll get my hat.

[While CARRIE gets her hat EDDY takes his money from his pocket and counts it anxiously. He slips it back quickly just as CARRIE re-enters. She and EDDY go out by the house door. They are heard laughing as they go. As the sounds die away, MARTIN SETON enters from store. He looks around, opens both doors to see if everyone is gone, and comes back to the table with an alert, purposeful manner. Then, as if to make sure of something, he goes to the cabinet, looks inside it, and noting the absence of the capsule box, smiles. He then comes back to the table and adjusts the invalid chair with its back to the front of the stage and its face partially towards the house door. He moves the screen also, placing it so that anyone in the chair will not be immediately seen upon the door being opened. The malicious smile is still upon his lips as he looks at his watch, snaps it shut, and taking the capsule box from his pocket, selects one, looks at it carefully and swallows it. For an instant or two he stands erect with an expression of inquiry upon his face — then suddenly crumples up into the waiting chair. Only his hand and arm flung out upon the table are visible from the audience. A slight pause. The buzzer rings. The hand is seen to make a spasmodic movement. The buzzer rings again, more loudly, but this time the hand lies still. Once again the buzzer rings without response. There is silence for a moment and then a door is heard to bang as some indignant customer, tired of ringing, leaves the untended store. The afternoon light through the open window has begun to decline a little. A light breeze flaps the blind. The room is very still. The distant noises of a small-town street are heard. Into this silence comes a sharp knock on the house door. Next moment the knob is turned and DR. MASON, finding the door unlocked, opens it and looks in.]

   MASON [off]. Anyone home? May I come in?

[He enters. He is a man in the early forties, clean-shaven, handsome, with an energetic chin and kind, practical eyes. He wears a tweed suit, somewhat shabby, and carries a doctor's bag. As he turns to close the door a laugh is heard and CARRIE enters breathless and smiling.]

   CARRIE. I saw you turning in, doctor, so I ran! Aunt's out — looking for you, I think. Uncle's tending store.

   MASON. And Ed and Carrie have been having a sundae, I see.

   CARRIE. I ran away from the last spoonful, so I hope you're flattered. [Enter EDDY, still removing traces of dissipation from his lips.]

   EDDY. Gee, that was good! Say, a new sundae is about the only thing that makes you know you're alive — in this burg. She's gettin' too slow for me. Sufferin' snakes, doctor, it beats me why you haven't lit out long ago. 'Tisn't as if you had to stay here.

   MASON. Life's much the same everywhere, Eddy. Water in a cup is not very different from water in a river.

   EDDY [wisely]. But it's the river that gets the biggest move on!

[They laugh.]

   EDDY. Better be moving myself, I guess, or the boss will sure be peeved. [Still speaking he turns toward the store but in passing the screen stops abruptly at the sight of the huddled figure in the chair.] Gee! [His tone is so full of startled wonder that both CARRIE and the doctor start forward.]

   CARRIE. What is it? [They pass the screen.] Oh! — he's fainted!

[The doctor, betraying no feeling beyond a slight start, hurries forward and with a quick professional gesture bends over the dead man, laying one hand upon his wrist outstretched upon the table and placing his ear to his heart. The other two watch in frightened silence, EDDY clasping CARRIE'S hand which she does not withdraw. The doctor straightens up. His face is grave and troubled.]

   MASON [quietly]. This is — terribly sudden! It is not a fainting spell. [To CARRIE] Your uncle is dead, my dear. [EDDY and CARRIE shrink back exchanging looks in which natural horror is mixed with youthful appreciation of the dramatic.]

   EDDY [in a hushed voice]. Dead, is he?

   CARRIE. My gracious!

   EDDY [puzzled]. Why — he — he wasn't dead when we went out!

   CARRIE. He was tending store!

   EDDY [awed]. He was joking!

   MASON [slowly]. Joking — was he?

   EDDY [his sense of importance growing]. And laughing, cheerfuller than he's been this long while.

   CARRIE [with youthful hardness]. He was often cheerful after he'd been horrid to Aunt.

   MASON. And had he —

   CARRIE [nodding]. I never saw her so upset. She went out like she didn't know where she was going.

[The doctor, continuing his examination, has opened his bag and taken from it a piece of absorbent cotton which he passes over the dead man's mouth. He holds it to his nose as if detecting some faint odor, then crushes it in his hand while his face assumes a set look.]

   MASON [absently]. Gone out, you say?

   CARRIE [suddenly and with a hysterical gasp]. What makes his face so funny? — eh? —

   MASON. Be quiet! Listen! —

[CARRIE closes her mouth with a shaking hand and in the moment's silence a stumbling step is heard at the outside door].

   CARRIE. It's Aunt!

[The doctor crosses the room quickly. The door opens and JANE SETON enters. She looks dazed and weary. Her hat is crooked and her hair slightly untidy.]

   JANE. I tripped on the step! [Seeing the doctor and brightening a little] Why, doctor, you here? I've been looking for you. I — [The doctor moves suddenly and she sees her husband.] My God! He's taken it! [Throws up her hands and collapses in hysteria.]

   MASON. Quietly now! [Placing himself between her and the boy and girl he speaks in a low urgent tone] Be careful! [More loudly] Yes, he has taken it. I was afraid he might.

   CARRIE. Might what?

   EDDY. Taken what?

   MASON [calmly]. A stroke.

   [EDDY and CARRIE turn to each other and nod wisely.]

   EDDY. We might have thought of that! [To CARRIE] Strokes always takes them sudden.

   CARRIE [to EDDY]. I know. Grandfather had a stroke.

   EDDY [curiously]. Like that?

   CARRIE. N—no, not like that — kind of different — [The buzzer sounds.]

   MASON [to EDDY]. See who that is. [To CARRIE] Get your Aunt a drink of water — cold — let the tap run.

[CARRIE and EDDY go out.]

   MASON [to JANE]. Jane, control yourself! Don't be frightened! I'll see you through — I understand. God knows you've stood it longer than any other human being could! Now listen — cry if you like, but don't — talk! I'll do the talking. He's had a stroke —

   JANE [in a high voice]. He hasn't!

   MASON [sternly]. Be quiet!

   JANE [controlling herself momentarily, and in a lower tone]. Why don't you tell the truth? You know it's poison! I thought — but he was too clever for me — can't you see? He's killed himself —

   MASON [somberly]. Yes, of course, he killed himself over-exertion — a stroke — I — I expected it.

   JANE [her voice getting high again]. You didn't expect it! It isn't a stroke! You know it isn't. Do you say that because you think that I — that I —?

[Enter CARRIE, with a glass of water.]

   MASON [in professional manner]. You must try to calm yourself, Mrs. Seton. Do not attempt to talk. [To CARRIE] Your Aunt should lie down. See that her room is ready.

   CARRIE. Yes, Doctor. [She backs toward the door, but very slowly, loath to leave a scene of so much interest. The store door opens and EDDY looks in.]

   EDDY [in a penetrating whisper]. It's Constable Buckley. Can he come in?

[He enters followed by a constable. BUCKLEY is a little Englishman with a round head, round eyes, and lips puckered roundly as if always indulging in an inaudible whistle.]

   BUCKLEY [hoarsely]. Gone sudden, 'as 'e? Thought 'e might go that way! Folks down street said as 'ow there weren't anybody to tend store. If there's anything hi can do —

   MASON. Thank you. Very kind of you, Buckley.

   BUCKLEY. Hit's my dooty [politely] and my pleasure, too. [Embarrassed] Wot hi mean is —

   MASON. Just so. [Takes BUCKLEY'S arm and guides him away from JANE.]

   BUCKLEY [in a loud whisper]. Stroke, is it?

   MASON. Yes, very sudden.

   BUCKLEY. But not hunexpected, I suppose?

   EDDY [importantly]. We never dreamed of it!

   MASON [crushing EDDY with a look]. Doctors do not always tell all that they anticipate, constable. You understand.

   BUCKLEY. Surely! And a good thing, too. If 'alf of us knew what was going to 'appen —

   MASON. Exactly.

   BUCKLEY [reverting to sentiment]. Well, well! So 'e's gone! Will there 'ave to be an inquest, doctor?

   MASON. I think not. I'll see the coroner. These things happen. It's all in the course of nature, constable. [Louder, as if to bring what he says to the attention of JANE] Nature, human nature, can stand just so much, then it gives away. You will have noticed that I'm sure.

   BUCKLEY [flattered]. Us constables see nature do some queer tricks, I'll say. She's a rum 'un, is nature. Lets 'em run along some times carelesslike, she does, and other times just snuffs' em out! Well, hi won't hintrude. [Looks toward JANE and shakes his head sympathetically] She seems to be taking it pretty 'ard — considering.

   EDDY. Considering what?

   BUCKLEY. Considering — 'im!

[He indicates the dead man with a gesture expressive of dislike, chastened by the solemnity of the occasion, and tiptoes out by way of the shop door. The room has been getting dimmer. EDDY and CARRIE, still holding hands, back quietly toward same exit. When they reach the door they open it quickly and slip out as if afraid of what they leave behind. The doctor with a gesture of relief, crosses to where JANE is sitting, her face hidden in her arm which is thrown across the back of her chair. He puts his hand gently on her bent shoulder.]

   MASON. Jane! [JANE rises slowly from her crouching position and stands up resting her hand on the chair back. She is seen to be much calmer. Her hat has fallen off and with her loosened hair she looks younger and prettier than she has hitherto.] That's right! Get hold of yourself! The worst is already over. You had better remain in your room. It will seem only natural. I'll attend to everything.

[JANE pays no attention to what he is saying. After giving him a long blank look she crosses to the chair where the dead man lies and stares down at him.]

   JANE [in a dreamy voice]. They say that the dead can't speak. But he is speaking! Can't you hear him?

   MASON [in a worried tone]. Jane — don't!

   JANE [in the same voice]. He is accusing me to you. Do you believe him? The dead are good liars.

   MASON [humoring her]. What he says is nothing to me. Come away, Jane.

   JANE [as if explaining to herself]. His lies were always clever. I ought to know that! Ten years ago he lied to me and I believed him. [Turns to the doctor and speaks in a more natural voice] Don't you remember? It was that lie which separated you and me just when [with a sudden and pathetic girlishness] we might have been so happy.

   MASON [with emotion]. I know. Don't talk of it now.

   JANE. I must. Don't you see? He is doing it again! He wants to part our souls this time. To blacken and smirch and destroy the thing he has never been able to touch. But he can't. He can't do that, John, can he?

   MASON [soothingly]. No, Jane, — no.

   JANE [with rising fear]. He's lying, John, just lying! You know that?

   MASON. Not so loud!

   JANE. You wouldn't believe him, John? [Separating her words in a breathless way] You — don't — believe — him? [She leans forward, gazing into his eyes with terrible intensity. For a moment they stand so. Then she draws back with a bewildered look. Her fire dies out. Her shoulders sag. Her whole air is cowed and beaten. She stretches out her hands, palms out, as if to ward off something. In a dead voice] You do believe him!

[She makes a strange wild gesture toward the dead man as if awarding him victory in a long contest. Then she turns away. The door behind opens for an instant, showing the brightly lighted store and a group of curious faces peering in.]

 

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES    ISABEL ECCLESTONE MACKAY whose home is in Vancouver has an assured position as a writer of fiction and verse and· has published several novels and volumes of poetry. In addition to The Second Lie, Mrs. MacKay has written several other plays which reveal a close study of the theatre.