The Early Ayn Rand (54 page)

Authors: Ayn Rand

BOOK: The Early Ayn Rand

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SERGE: [
Jumping up, ferociously
]
I?!

INGALLS: Pipe down, Serge. You see, it’s the one question that none of us must ask—under the circumstances. Leave that to Greg Hastings.

SERGE: Who?

INGALLS: Greg Hastings. The district attorney. He will be here any moment. I’m sure he’ll answer your question. He always does.

SERGE: I hope he’s good, I hope—

INGALLS: He’s very good. Not one unsolved murder in his whole career. You see, he doesn’t believe that there can be such a thing as a perfect crime.

SERGE: I hope he should find the monster, the fiend, the unspeakable—

INGALLS: Let me give you a tip, Serge. Cut down on that kind of stuff around Greg Hastings. I know him quite well. He won’t fall for the obvious. He’ll always look further than that. He’s clever. Too clever.

SERGE: [
His voice rising angrily
] But why do you say this to me? Why do you look at me? You do not think that
I . . .

INGALLS: I haven’t even begun to think, Serge. [TONY
enters Right
]

TONY: [
Gaily
] The cops arrived? [
Sees
SERGE] Oh, it’s you, Serge, old boy, old pal.

SERGE: [
Startled
] I beg your pardon?

TONY: You look wonderful. The ride’s done you good. It’s wonderful to drive fast at night, against the wind, with nothing to stop you! To drive fast, so fast—and free!

SERGE: [
Aghast
] But what is this? [
Whirls on
INGALLS] Oh, I see! It was the joke. It was the horrible joke from
you. . . .
[
To
TONY] Mr. Breckenridge he is not dead?

TONY: [
Lightly
] Oh yes, Mr. Breckenridge is dead. Dead as a doornail. Dead as a tombstone. Good and dead.

SERGE: [
To
INGALLS] He has lost his mind!

INGALLS: Or just found it. [HELEN
enters, coming down the stairs
]

HELEN: Tony, why did you—

SERGE: Oh, Mrs. Breckenridge! Permit me to express the deepest sympathy at this terrible—

HELEN: Thank you, Serge. [
Her manner is now simple, young, more natural than it has ever been
] Why did you stop playing, Tony? It was so lovely. I’ve never heard you play like this before.

TONY: But you will hear me again. You will—for years—and years—and years—[INGALLS
exits up the stairs
] SERGE: Mrs. Breckenridge—

HELEN: I will give you a piano, Tony. Now. Tomorrow.

[
There is the distant sound of a police siren approaching.
SERGE
looks up nervously. The others pay no attention
]

TONY: You won’t give me a piano! Nobody’s going to give me anything ever again! I think I can get a job at Gimbel’s, and I will, and I’ll save three dollars a week, and in a year I’ll have a piano—a good, secondhand piano of my own! . . . But I like you, Helen. HELEN: Yes. Forgive me.

SERGE: Mrs. Breckenridge! . . . What has happened? HELEN: We don’t know, Serge.

TONY: What’s the difference?

SERGE: But who did it?

TONY: Who cares?

[
Doorbell rings.
TONY
opens the door.
GREGORY HASTINGS
enters. He is a man in his early forties, tall, suave, distinguished, and self-possessed. He enters calmly, he speaks quietly, as naturally and undramatically as possible—without overdoing it. He enters, stops, looks at
HELEN]

HASTINGS: Mrs. Breckenridge?

HELEN: Yes.

HASTINGS: [
Bowing
] Gregory Hastings.

HELEN: How do you do, Mr. Hastings.

HASTINGS: I am truly sorry, Mrs. Breckenridge, that I should have to be here tonight.

HELEN: We’ll be glad to help you in any way we can, Mr. Hastings. If you wish to question us—

HASTINGS: A little later. First, I shall have to see the scene of—

HELEN: [
Pointing
] In the garden. . . . Tony, will you show—

HASTINGS: It won’t be necessary. I’ll keep my men out of your way as much as possible. [
Exits Left
]

TONY: This is going to be interesting.

SERGE: But . . . you are inhuman!

TONY: Probably. [INGALLS
enters, coming down the stairs
] INGALLS: Was that Greg Hastings?

TONY: Yes. The police.

INGALLS: Where are they?

TONY: [
Pointing to garden
] Sniffing at footprints, I guess.

SERGE: There will not be any footprints. There will not be anything. It is going to be terrible.

INGALLS: How do you know there won’t be anything, Serge?

SERGE: There never is in a case like this.

INGALLS: You never can tell. [
Pulls the
Courier
out of his pocket
] Anyone here want the evening paper that Serge was nice enough to bring us?

TONY: [
Taking the paper
] Does the
Courier
have any comic strips? I love comic strips. [
Turns the paper to the funny page
] They don’t have “Little Orphan Annie,” though. That’s my favorite—“Little Orphan Annie.”

HELEN: [
Looking over his shoulder
] I like “Popeye the Sailor.”

TONY: Oh, no! Annie’s better. But Popeye has his points—particularly when they bring in Mr. Wimpy. Mr. Wimpy is good.

HELEN: Lord Plushbottom is good, too.

TONY: Lord Plushbottom is from another strip.

SERGE:
That’s
what I drive the three-quarters of an hour for!

HELEN: Oh, yes, Serge, wasn’t there some story you wanted to read?

SERGE: There was! But there isn’t! Not a word in the damn paper about the Soviet Culture and Friendship Society!

TONY: And not even “Little Orphan Annie” or “Popeye the Sailor.”

[FLEMING
comes down the stairs. He is sober and walks calmly, steadily. There is an air about him as if he were holding his head up for the first time in his life. His clothes are still disreputable, but he is shaved and his tie is straight
]

FLEMING: Steve, you won’t—by any chance—need a janitor down at the laboratory?

INGALLS: No. But we will need an engineer.

FLEMING: A has-been engineer?

INGALLS: No. A shall-be engineer.

FLEMING: [
Looks at him, then in a low voice:
] Steve, you’re—

INGALLS:—a cold-blooded egoist. I’ve never been called anything else. I wouldn’t know what to do if I were. Let it go at that.

FLEMING: [
Nods slowly, solemnly. Then sits down and picks up part of the newspaper
] The police are out there in the garden. Guess they’ll want us all here. INGALLS: Yes, it won’t be long now.

SERGE: [
Walks to sideboard, pours himself a drink
] Do you want a drink, Mr. Fleming?

FLEMING: [
With slow emphasis
] No, thank you.

SERGE: [
Swallows a stiff drink in one gulp. Then:
] The laboratory—who will run it now?

INGALLS: I will.

SERGE: And . . . what is to happen to the invention?

INGALLS: Ah, yes, the invention. Well, Serge, only two men knew the secret of that invention—Walter and I. Walter is dead.

SERGE: He wanted to give it to mankind.

INGALLS: He did. Now I’m going to sit and loaf and collect a fortune. It’s too bad about mankind.

SERGE: You have no respect for the wishes of a—

INGALLS: I have no respect for anything, Serge.

SERGE: [
Cautiously
] But if you should now carry out the wish of Mr. Breckenridge—then perhaps the police will not think that
you
had a reason to kill him.

INGALLS: Oh, but Serge! You wouldn’t suggest that I try to deceive the police, would you? [HASTINGS
enters from the garden. His face looks earnest
]

HASTINGS: Mrs. Breckenridge . . . [
Sees
INGALLS] Oh, hello, Steve.

INGALLS: Hello, Greg.

HASTINGS: I’m glad you’re here. It will make things easier for me.

INGALLS: Or harder—if I did it.

HASTINGS: Or hopeless, if you did it. But I know one or two things already which seem to let you out. [
To
HELEN] Mrs. Breckenridge, I’m sorry, but certain facts make it necessary for everyone here to be fingerprinted.

HELEN: Of course. I’m sure none of us will object. HASTINGS: If you will please ask everybody to step into the library—my assistant is there with the necessary equipment. After that I should like to have everybody here.

HELEN: Very well.

HASTINGS: Steve, will you please go down there—[
Points to the garden
]—and take a look at that electrical apparatus that Breckenridge was operating? I have the butler’s statement about the invention and the fireworks display that was interrupted. I want to know what interrupted it. I want you to tell me whether that machine is out of order in any way.

INGALLS: Will you take my word for it?

HASTINGS: I’ll have to. You’re the only one who can tell us. Besides, my men are there and they’ll be watching you. But first, come to the library and get fingerprinted.

INGALLS: All right.

[
They all exit, Right.
HELEN
is the last to go. She turns out the lights, then follows the others. The stage is dark and empty for a few moments. Then a man’s figure enters Right. We cannot see who it is. The man gathers quickly all the sheets of the newspaper, twists them into one roll, and kneels by the fireplace. He strikes a match and sets fire to the paper. We see his two hands, but nothing else. He lets the paper burn halfway, then blows out the fire. Then he rises and exits Right
]

[
After a moment,
HELEN
and
HASTINGS
come back, Right.
HELEN
turns on the light. We can see part of the rolled newspaper among the logs in the fireplace
]

HASTINGS: May I apologize in advance, Mrs. Breckenridge, for anything that I might have to say or do? I’m afraid this is going to be a difficult case.

HELEN: Will you forgive me if I say that I
hope
it will be a difficult case?

HASTINGS: You do not wish me to find the murderer?

HELEN: I suppose I should, but . . . No. I don’t.

HASTINGS: It might mean that you know who it is. Or—it could mean something much worse.

HELEN: I don’t know who it is. As to the “much worse”—well, we’ll all deny that, so I don’t think my denial would be worth more than any of the others. [CURTISS
enters Right
]

CURTISS: Mr. Hastings, could you ask the coroner please to attend to Mrs. Pudget?

HELEN: Good God, Curtiss! You don’t mean that Mrs. Pudget has been—

CURTISS: Oh no, madam. But Mrs. Pudget has a bad case of hysterics. [FLEMING
and
SERGE
enter Right
]

HASTINGS: What’s the matter with her?

CURTISS: She says that she positively refuses to work for people who get murdered.

HASTINGS: All right, ask the coroner to give her a pill. Then come back here.

CURTISS: Yes, sir. [
Exits Right
]

HASTINGS: [
To
HELEN] I understand that your son witnessed the fireworks from this room?

HELEN: Yes, I believe so.

HASTINGS: Then I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to have him brought here.

FLEMING: And get him out of bed? At this hour? [HASTINGS
looks at him with curiosity
]

HELEN: But of course, Harvey. It can’t be avoided. It’s quite all right. I’ll ask Flash to bring him down.

FLEMING:
I
will. [
Exits Right, as
TONY
enters
]

HASTINGS: [
To
HELEN] Do you know why I think this case is going to be difficult? Because motive is always the most important thing. Motive is the key to any case. And I’m afraid I’ll have a hard time finding one single motive among all the people here. I can’t imagine any reason for killing a man of Mr. Breckenridge’s character.

HELEN: Neither could Walter. And I hope whoever did it told him the reason before he died. [
He looks at her, astonished
] Yes, I’m really as cruel as that—though I didn’t know it before. [ADRIENNE
enters Right. She is pale, tense and barely able to control herself
]

TONY: I didn’t know fingerprinting was as simple as that, did you, Adrienne? Wasn’t it fun?

ADRIENNE: [
Curtly
] No.

TONY: [
Taken aback
] Oh . . . I’m sorry, Adrienne. . . . But I thought . . . you’d be the one to feel better than any of us.

ADRIENNE: [
Bitterly
] Oh, you did?

HELEN: Adrienne, may I get you a drink?

ADRIENNE: [
Looks at her with hatred. Then, to
HASTINGS
:
] Get this over with, will you, so I can get out of here?

HASTINGS: I shall try, Miss Knowland. [INGALLS
enters from the garden
] What about the machine, Steve?

INGALLS: In perfect order.

HASTINGS: Nothing the matter with it?

INGALLS: Nothing.

HASTINGS: Doesn’t look as if anybody had tried to monkey with it?

INGALLS: No. [CURTISS
enters Right
]

HASTINGS: Now, I should like to ask you all to sit down and be as comfortable as we can be under the circumstances. I won’t have a stenographer taking down anybody’s words or gestures. I shan’t need that. Let’s just relax and talk sensibly. [
To
HELEN] Is everybody here now?

HELEN: Yes, except Billy and his tutor and Mr. Fleming.

HASTINGS: Now as to the servants—there are the butler, the cook and her husband, the chauffeur. Is that all?

HELEN: Yes.

HASTINGS: And—who are the nearest neighbors?

HELEN: I . . . don’t know.

INGALLS: The nearest house is two miles away.