JOHNNIE: No. I never notice them.
KAY GONDA: What do you dream of?
JOHNNIE: Nothing. Of what account are dreams?
KAY GONDA: Of what account is life?
JOHNNIE: None. But who made it so?
KAY GONDA: Those who cannot dream.
JOHNNIE: No. Those who can
only
dream.
KAY GONDA: Are you very unhappy?
JOHNNIE: No. . . . I don’t think you should ask me these questions. You won’t get a decent answer from me to anything.
KAY GONDA: There was a great man once who said: “I love those that know not how to live today.”
JOHNNIE: [
Quietly
] I think I am a person who should never have been born. This is not a complaint. I am not afraid and I am not sorry. But I have often wanted to die. I have no desire to change the world—nor to take any part in it, as it is. I’ve never had the weapons which you have. I’ve never even found the desire to find weapons. I’d like to go, calmly and willingly.
KAY GONDA: I don’t want to hear you say that.
JOHNNIE: There has always been something holding me here. Something that had to come to me before I went. I want to know one living moment of that which is mine, not theirs. Not their dismal little pleasures. One moment of ecstasy, utter and absolute, a moment that must not be survived. . . . They’ve never given me a life. I’ve always hoped I would choose my death.
KAY GONDA: Don’t say that. I need you. I’m here. I’ll never let you go.
JOHNNIE: [
After a pause, looking at her in a strange new way, his voice dry, flat
] You? You’re a murderess who’ll get caught someday and die on the gallows.
[
She looks at him, astonished. He walks to the window, stands looking out. Beyond the window it is now full daylight. The sun is about to rise. Rays of light spread like halos from behind the dark silhouettes of skyscrapers. He asks suddenly, without turning to her
:]
You killed him?
KAY GONDA: We don’t have to talk about that, do we?
JOHNNIE: [
Without turning
] I knew Granton Sayers. I worked for him once, as a caddy, at a golf club in Santa Barbara. A hard kind of man.
KAY GONDA: He was a very unhappy man, Johnnie.
JOHNNIE: [
Turning to her
] Was anyone present?
KAY GONDA: Where?
JOHNNIE: When you killed him?
KAY GONDA: Do we have to discuss that?
JOHNNIE: It’s something I must know. Did anyone see you kill him?
KAY GONDA: No.
JOHNNIE: Have the police got anything on you?
KAY GONDA: No. Except what I could tell them. But I will not tell it to them. Nor to you. Not now. Don’t question me.
JOHNNIE: How much is the reward on your head?
KAY GONDA: [
After a pause, in a strange kind of voice
] What did you say, Johnnie?
JOHNNIE: [
Evenly
] I said, how much is the reward on your head? [
She stares at him
] Never mind. [
He walks to the door, throws it open, calls:
] Mrs. Monaghan! Come here!
KAY GONDA: What are you doing? [
He does not answer or look at her.
MRS. MONAGHAN
shuffles up the stairs and appears at the door
]
MRS. MONAGHAN: [
Angrily
] What d’ye want?
JOHNNIE: Mrs. Monaghan, listen carefully. Go downstairs to your phone. Call the police. Tell them to come here at once. Tell them that
Kay Gonda
is here. You understand? Kay Gonda. Now hurry.
MRS. MONAGHAN: [
Aghast
] Yes, sir. . . . [
Exits hurriedly
]
[JOHNNIE
closes the door, turns to
KAY GONDA
. She tries to dash for the door. The table is between them. He opens a drawer, pulls out a gun, points it at her
]
JOHNNIE: Stand still. [
She does not move. He backs to the door and locks it. She sags suddenly, still standing up
]
KAY GONDA: [
Without looking at him, in a flat, lifeless voice
] Put it away. I will not try to escape. [
He slips the gun into his pocket and stands leaning against the door. She sits down, her back turned to him
]
JOHNNIE: [
Quietly
] We have about three minutes left. I am thinking now that nothing has happened to us and nothing will happen. The world stopped a minute ago and in three minutes it will go on again. But this—this pause is ours. You’re here. I look at you. I’ve seen your eyes—and all the truth that man has ever sought. [
Her head falls down on her arms
] There are no other men on earth right now. Just you and I. There’s nothing but a world in which you live. To breathe for once that air, to move in it, to hear my own voice on waves that touch no ugliness, no pain . . . I’ve never known gratitude. But now, of all the words I’d like to say to you, I’ll say just three: I thank you. When you leave, remember I have thanked you. Remember—no matter what may happen in this room. . . . [
She buries her head in her arms. He stands silently, his head thrown back, his eyes closed
]
[
Hurried steps are heard rising up the stairs.
JOHNNIE
and
KAY GONDA
do not move. There is a violent knock at the door.
JOHNNIE
turns, unlocks the door, and opens it. A police
CAPTAIN
enters, followed by two
POLICEMEN
.
KAY GONDA
rises, facing them
]
CAPTAIN: Jesus Christ! [
They stare at her, aghast
]
POLICEMAN: And I thought it was another crank calling!
CAPTAIN: Miss Gonda, I’m sure glad to see you. We’ve been driven crazy with . . .
KAY GONDA: Take me away from here. Anywhere you wish.
CAPTAIN: [
Making a step toward her
] Well, we have no . . .
JOHNNIE: [
In a quiet voice which is such an implacable command that all turn to him
] Stay away from her. [
The
CAPTAIN
stops.
JOHNNIE
motions to a
POLICEMAN
and points to the table
] Sit down. Take a pencil and paper. [
The
POLICEMAN
looks at the
CAPTAIN
, who nods, baffled. The
POLICEMAN
obeys
] Now write this: [
Dictates slowly, his voice precise, emotionless
] I, John Dawes, confess that on the night of May fifth, willfully and with premeditation, I killed Granton Sayers of Santa Barbara, California. [KAY GONDA
takes a deep breath, which is almost a gasp
] I have been absent from my home for the last three nights, as my landlady, Mrs. Sheila Monaghan, can testify. She can further testify that I was dismissed from my job at the Alhambra Hotel on May third. [KAY GONDA
starts laughing suddenly. It is the lightest, happiest laughter in the world
] I had worked for Granton Sayers a year ago, at the Greendale Golf Club of Santa Barbara. Being jobless and broke, I went to Granton Sayers on the evening of May fifth, determined to extort money from him through blackmail, under threat of divulging certain information I possessed. He refused my demands even at the point of a gun. I shot him. I disposed of the gun by throwing it into the ocean on my way back from Santa Barbara. I was alone in committing this crime. No other person was or is to be implicated. [
Adds
] Have you got it all? Give it to me. [
The
POLICEMAN
hands the confession to him.
JOHNNIE
signs it
]
CAPTAIN: [
He cannot quite collect his wits
] Miss Gonda, what have you got to say about this?
KAY GONDA: [
Hysterically
] Don’t ask me! Not now! Don’t speak to me!
JOHNNIE: [
Hands the confession to the
CAPTAIN] You will please let Miss Gonda depart now.
CAPTAIN: Wait a minute, my boy. Not so fast. There’s a lot of explaining you have to do yet. How did you get into the Sayers house? How did you leave it?
JOHNNIE: I have told you all I’m going to tell.
CAPTAIN: What time was it when you did the shooting? And what is Miss Gonda doing here?
JOHNNIE: You know all you have to know. You know enough not to implicate Miss Gonda. You have my confession.
CAPTAIN: Sure. But you’ll have to prove it.
JOHNNIE: It will stand—even if I do not choose to prove it. Particularly if I am not here to prove it.
CAPTAIN: Gonna be tough, eh? Well, you’ll talk at headquarters all right. Come on, boys.
KAY GONDA: [
Stepping forward
] Wait! You must listen to me now. I have a statement to make. I . . .
JOHNNIE: [
Steps back, pulls the gun out of his pocket, covering the group
] Stand still, all of you. [
To
KAY GONDA] Don’t move. Don’t say a word.
KAY GONDA: Johnnie! You don’t know what you’re doing! Wait, my dearest! Put that gun down.
JOHNNIE: [
Without lowering the gun, smiles at her
] I heard it. Thank you.
KAY GONDA: I’ll tell you everything! You don’t know! I’m safe!
JOHNNIE: I know you’re safe. You will be. Step back. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt anyone. [
She obeys
] I want you all to look at me. Years from now you can tell your grandchildren about it. You are looking at something you will never see again and they will never see—a man who is perfectly happy! [
Points the gun at himself, fires, falls
]
CURTAIN
SCENE 4
Entrance hall in the residence of
KAY GONDA
. It is high, bare, modern in its austere simplicity. There is no furniture, no ornaments of any kind. The upper part of the hall is a long raised platform, dividing the room horizontally, and three broad continuous steps lead down from it to the foreground. Tall, square columns rise at the upper edge of the steps. Door into the rest of the house downstage in wall Left. The entire back wall is of wide glass panes, with an entrance door in the center.
Beyond the house, there is a narrow path among jagged rocks, a thin strip of the high coast with a broad view of the ocean beyond and of a flaming sunset sky. The hall is dim. There is no light, save the glow of the sunset.
At curtain rise,
MICK WATTS
is sitting on the top step, leaning down toward a dignified
BUTLER
who sits on the floor below, stiff, upright, and uncomfortable holding a tray with a full highball glass on it.
MICK WATTS
’ shirt collar is torn open, his tie hanging loose, his hair disheveled. He is clutching a newspaper ferociously. He is sober.
MICK WATTS: [
Continuing a discourse that has obviously been going on for some time, speaking in an even, expressionless monotone, his manner earnest, confidential
] . . . and so the king called them all before his throne and he said: “I’m weary and sick of it. I am tired of my kingdom where not a single man is worth ruling. I am tired of my lusterless crown, for it does not reflect a single flame of glory anywhere in my land.” . . . You see, he was a very foolish king. Some scream it, like he did, and squash their damn brains out against a wall. Others stagger on, like a dog chasing a shadow, knowing damn well that there is no shadow to chase, but still going on, their hearts empty and their paws bleeding. . . . So the king said to them on his deathbed—oh, this was another time, he was on his deathbed this time—he said: “It is the end, but I am still hoping. There is no end. Ever shall I go on hoping . . . ever . . . ever.” [
Looks suddenly at the
BUTLER
, as if noticing him for the first time, and asks in an entirely different voice, pointing at him:
] What the hell are you doing here?
BUTLER: [
Rising
] May I observe, sir, that you have been speaking for an hour and a quarter?
MICK WATTS: Have I?
BUTLER: You have, sir. So, if I may be forgiven, I took the liberty of sitting down.
MICK WATTS: [
Surprised
] Fancy, you were here all the time!
BUTLER: Yes, sir.
MICK WATTS: Well, what did you want here in the first place?
BUTLER: [
Extending the tray
] Your whiskey, sir.
MICK WATTS: Oh! [
Reaches for the glass, but stops, jerks the crumpled newspaper at the
BUTLER
, asks
:] Have you read this?
BUTLER: Yes, sir.
MICK WATTS: [
Knocking the tray aside; it falls, breaking the glass
] Go to hell! I don’t want any whiskey!
BUTLER: But you ordered it, sir.
MICK WATTS: Go to hell just the same! [
As the
BUTLER
bends to pick up the tray
] Get out of here! Never mind! Get out! I don’t want to see any human snoot tonight!
BUTLER: Yes, sir. [
Exits Left
]
[MICK WATTS
straightens the paper out, looks at it, crumples it viciously again. Hears steps approaching outside and whirls about.
FREDERICA SAYERS
is seen outside, walking hurriedly toward the door; she has a newspaper in her hand.
MICK WATTS
walks to door and opens it, before she has time to ring
]
MISS SAYERS: Good evening.
[
He does not answer, lets her enter, closes the door and stands silently, looking at her. She looks around, then at him, somewhat disconcerted
]
MICK WATTS: [
Without moving
] Well?
MISS SAYERS: Is this the residence of Miss Kay Gonda?
MICK WATTS: It is.
MISS SAYERS: May I see Miss Gonda?
MICK WATTS: No.
MISS SAYERS: I am Miss Sayers. Miss Frederica Sayers.
MICK WATTS: I don’t care.
MISS SAYERS: Will you please tell Miss Gonda that I am here? If she is at home.
MICK WATTS: She is not.
MISS SAYERS: When do you expect her back?
MICK WATTS: I don’t expect her.
MISS SAYERS: My good man, this is getting to be preposterous!