The Silver Box eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 78 pages of information about The Silver Box.

The Silver Box eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 78 pages of information about The Silver Box.
[He lurches through the door and down a corridor, and presently returns, followed by Jones, who is advanced in liquor.  Jones, about thirty years of age, has hollow cheeks, black circles round his eyes, and rusty clothes:  He looks as though he might be unemployed, and enters in a hang-dog manner.]

Jack.  Sh! sh! sh!  Don’t you make a noise, whatever you do.  Shu’ the door, an’ have a drink. [Very solemnly.] You helped me to open the door—­I ’ve got nothin, for you.  This is my house.  My father’s name’s Barthwick; he’s Member of Parliament—­Liberal Member of Parliament:  I’ve told you that before.  Have a drink! [He pours out whisky and drinks it up.] I’m not drunk [Subsiding on a sofa.] Tha’s all right.  Wha’s your name?  My name’s Barthwick, so’s my father’s; I’m a Liberal too—­wha’re you?

Jones. [In a thick, sardonic voice.] I’m a bloomin’ Conservative.  My name’s Jones!  My wife works ’ere; she’s the char; she works ’ere.

Jack.  Jones? [He laughs.] There’s ’nother Jones at College with me.  I’m not a Socialist myself; I’m a Liberal—­there’s ve—­lill difference, because of the principles of the Lib—­Liberal Party.  We’re all equal before the law—­tha’s rot, tha’s silly. [Laughs.] Wha’ was I about to say?  Give me some whisky.

     [Jones gives him the whisky he desires, together with a squirt
     of syphon.]

Wha’ I was goin’ tell you was—­I ’ve had a row with her. [He waves the reticule.] Have a drink, Jonessh ’d never have got in without you—­tha ’s why I ‘m giving you a drink.  Don’ care who knows I’ve scored her off.  Th’ cat! [He throws his feet up on the sofa.] Don’ you make a noise, whatever you do.  You pour out a drink—­you make yourself good long, long drink—­you take cigarette—­you take anything you like.  Sh’d never have got in without you. [Closing his eyes.] You’re a Tory—­you’re a Tory Socialist.  I’m Liberal myself—­have a drink—­I ’m an excel’nt chap.

[His head drops back.  He, smiling, falls asleep, and Jones stands looking at him; then, snatching up JACK’s glass, he drinks it off.  He picks the reticule from off Jack’s shirt-front, holds it to the light, and smells at it.]

Jones.  Been on the tiles and brought ’ome some of yer cat’s fur. [He stuffs it into JACK’s breast pocket.]

Jack. [Murmuring.] I ’ve scored you off!  You cat!

     [Jones looks around him furtively; he pours out whisky and
     drinks it.  From the silver box he takes a cigarette, puffs at
     it, and drinks more whisky.  There is no sobriety left in him.]

Jones.  Fat lot o’ things they’ve got ’ere! [He sees the crimson purse lying on the floor.] More cat’s fur.  Puss, puss! [He fingers it, drops it on the tray, and looks at Jack.] Calf!  Fat calf! [He sees his own presentment in a mirror.  Lifting his hands, with fingers spread, he stares at it; then looks again at Jack, clenching his fist as if to batter in his sleeping, smiling face.  Suddenly he tilts the rest o f the whisky into the glass and drinks it.  With cunning glee he takes the silver box and purse and pockets them.] I ’ll score you off too, that ’s wot I ’ll do!

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Project Gutenberg
The Silver Box from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.