THE MAN IN THE STALLS

A PLAY IN ONE ACT

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

Hector Allen
Elizabeth Allen (Betty)
Walter COZENS

This play was produced at the Palace Theatre on October 6, 1911

THE MAN IN THE STALLS

The sitting-room of a little flat in Shaftesbury Avenue.  At back
     is a door leading to the dining-room—­it is open, and the
     dinner-table is in full view of the audience.  To the extreme
     right is another door, leading to the hall.

The place is pleasantly and prettily, though quite inexpensively, furnished.  To the left, at angles with the distempered wall, is a baby-grand piano; the fireplace, in which a fire is burning merrily, is on the same side, full centre.  To the right of the door leading to the dining-room is a small side-table, on which there is a tray with decanter and glasses; in front of this, a card-table, open, with two packs of cards on it, and chairs on each side.  Another table, a round one, is in the centre of the room—­to right and to left of it are comfortable armchairs.  Against the right wall is a long sofa; above it hang a few good, water-colours and engravings; on the piano and the table there are flowers.  A general appearance of refinement and comfort pervades the room; no luxury, but evidence everywhere of good taste, and the countless feminine touches that make a room homelike and pleasant.

When the curtain rises, Hector Allen, a youngish man of forty, with an attractive intellectual face, is seen standing by the dining-table in the inner room, draining his liqueur-glass, with Walter COZENS to the right of him, lighting a cigarette. Walter is a few years younger than his friend, moderately good-looking, with fine, curly brown hair and a splendid silky moustache.  His morning-clothes are conspicuously well-cut—­he is evidently something of a dandy; Hector wears a rather shabby dress-suit, his boots are awkward, and his tie ready-made. Betty, a handsome woman of thirty, wearing a very pretty tea-gown, is talking to the maid at the back of the dining-room.

     Hector puts down his glass and comes into the sitting-room,
     followed by WALTER.  HECTOR is puffing at a short, stumpy little
     black cigar.

HECTOR [Talking as he comes through, continuing the conversation—­he walks to the fireplace and stands with his back to it.] I tell you, if I’d known what it meant, I’d never have taken the job!  Sounded so fine, to be reader of plays for the Duke’s Theatre—­adviser to the great Mr. Honeyswill!  And then—­when the old man said I was to go to all the first nights—­why, I just chortled!  “It’s the first nights that show you the grip of the thing—­that teach you most”—­he said.  Teach you!  As though there were anything to learn!  Oh my stars!  I tell you, it’s a dog’s life!