(from The Fifth Column)
ACT TWO • SCENE ONE
A room in Seguridad headquarters. There is a plain table, bare except for a green-shaded lamp. The windows are all closed and shuttered. Behind the table a short man with a very thin-lipped, hawk-nosed ascetic-looking face is sitting. He has very thick eyebrows. PHILIP sits on a chair beside the table. The hawk-faced man is holding a pencil. On a chair in front of the table a MAN is sitting. He is crying with very deep shaking sobs. ANTONIO (the hawk-nosed man) is looking at him very interestedly. It is the FIRST COMRADE from Scene 3, Act 1. He is bareheaded, his tunic is off, and his braces, which hold up his baggy I.B. trousers, hang down along his trousers. As the curtain rises PHILIP stands up and looks at the FIRST COMRADE.
PHILIP. [In a tired voice] I’d like to ask you one more thing.
FIRST COMRADE. Don’t ask me. Please don’t ask me. I don’t want you to ask me.
PHILIP. Were you asleep?
FIRST COMRADE. [Choking] Yes.
PHILIP. [In a very tired flat voice] You know the penalty for that?
FIRST COMRADE. Yes.
PHILIP. Why didn’t you say so at the start and save a lot of trouble? I wouldn’t have you shot for that. I’m just disappointed in you now. Do you think people shoot people for fun?
FIRST COMRADE. I should have told you. I was frightened.
PHILIP. Yeah. You should have told me.
FIRST COMRADE. Truly, Comrade Commissar.
PHILIP. [To ANTONIO, coldly] You think he was asleep?
ANTONIO. How do I know? Do you want me to question him?
PHILIP. No, mi Coronel, no. We want information. We don’t want a confession.
[To the FIRST COMRADE]
Listen, what did you dream about when you went to sleep?
FIRST COMRADE. [Checks himself sobbing, hesitates, then goes on] I don’t remember.
PHILIP. Just try to. Take your time. I only want to be sure, you see. Don’t try to lie. I’ll know if you lie.
FIRST COMRADE. I remember now. I was against the wall and my rifle was between my legs when I leaned back, and I remember.
[He chokes]
In the dream I—I thought it was my girl and she was doing something—kind of funny—to me. I don’t know what it was. It was just in a dream.
[He chokes]
PHILIP. [To ANTONIO] You satisfied now?
ANTONIO. I do not understand it completely.
PHILIP. Well, I guess nobody really understands it completely, but he’s convinced me.
[To the FIRST COMRADE]
What’s your girl’s name?
FIRST COMRADE. Alma.
PHILIP. O.K. When you write her tell her she brought you a lot of luck.
[To ANTONIO]
As far as I’m concerned you can take him out. He reads the Worker. He knows Joe North. He’s got a girl named Alma. He’s got a good record with the Brigade, and he went to sleep and let a citizen slip who shot a boy named Wilkinson by mistake for me. The thing to do is to give him lots of strong coffee to keep him awake and keep rifles out from between his legs. Listen, Comrade, I’m sorry if I spoke roughly to you in the performance of my duty.
ANTONIO. I would like to put a few questions.
PHILIP. Listen, mi Coronel. If I wasn’t good at this you wouldn’t have let me go on doing it so long. This boy is all right. You know we are none of us exactly what you would call all right. But this boy is pretty all right. He just went to sleep, and I’m not justice you know. I’m just working for you, and the cause, and the Republic and one thing and another. And we used to have a President named Lincoln in America, you know, who commuted sentences of sentries to be shot for sleeping, you know. So I think if it’s all right with you we’ll just sort of commute his sentence. He comes from the Lincoln Battalion you see—and it’s an awfully good battalion. It’s such a good battalion and it’s done such things that it would break your damn heart if I tried to tell you about it. And if I was in it I’d feel decent and proud instead of the way I feel doing what I am. But I’m not, see? I’m a sort of a second-rate cop pretending to be a third-rate newspaperman—But listen Comrade Alma—
[Turning to prisoner]
If you ever go to sleep again on duty when you are working for me I’ll shoot you myself, see? You hear me? And write it to Alma.
ANTONIO. [Ringing. Two ASSAULT GUARDS come in] Take him away. You speak very confusedly, Philip. But you have a certain amount of credit to exhaust.
FIRST COMRADE. Thank you, Comrade Commissar.
PHILIP. Oh, don’t say thank you in a war. This is a war. You don’t say thank you in it. But you’re welcome, see? And when you write to Alma tell her she brought you a lot of luck.
[FIRST COMRADE goes out with ASSAULT GUARDS]
ANTONIO. Yes, and now. This man got away from room 107 and shot this boy by mistake for you, and who is this man?
PHILIP. Oh, I don’t know. Santa Claus, I guess. He’s got a number. They have A numbered one to ten, and B numbered one to ten, and C numbered one to ten, and they shoot people and they blow up things and they do everything you’re overly familiar with. And they work very hard, and aren’t really awfully efficient. But they kill a lot of people that they shouldn’t kill. The trouble is they’ve worked it out so well on the lines of the old Cuban A.B.C. that unless you get somebody outside that they deal with, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just like cutting the heads off boils instead of listening to a Fleischman’s Yeast Program. You know, correct me if I become confusing.
ANTONIO. And why do you not take this man with a sufficient force?
PHILIP. Because I cannot afford to make much noise and scare others that we need much more. This one is just a killer.
ANTONIO. Yes. There are plenty of fascists left in a town of a million people, and they work inside. Those who have the courage to. We must have twenty thousand active here.
PHILIP. More. Double that. But when you catch them they won’t talk. Except the politicians.
ANTONIO. Politicians. Yes, politicians. I have seen a politician on the floor in that corner of the room unable to stand up when it was time to go out. I have seen a politician walk across that floor on his knees and put his arms around my legs and kiss my feet. I watched him slobber on my boots when all he had to do was such a simple thing as die. I have seen many die, and I have never seen a politician die well.
PHILIP. I don’t like to see them die. It’s O.K. I guess, if you like to see it. But I don’t like it. Sometimes I don’t know how you stick it. Listen, who dies well?
ANTONIO. You know. Don’t be naïve.
PHILIP. Yes. I suppose I know.
ANTONIO. I could die all right. I don’t ask any one to do something that is impossible.
PHILIP. You’re a specialist. Look, Tonico. Who dies well? Go ahead, say it. Go ahead. Do you good to talk about your trade. Talk about it you know. Then next thing you know, forget it. Simple, eh? Tell me about in the first days of the movement.
ANTONIO. [Rather proudly] You want to hear? You mean definite people?
PHILIP. No. I know a couple of definite people. I mean sort of by classes.
ANTONIO. Fascists, real fascists, the young ones; very well. Sometimes with very much style. They are mistaken, but they have much style. Soldiers, yes, the majority all right. Priests all my life I am against. The church fights us. We fight the church. I am a Socialist for many years. We are the oldest revolutionary party in Spain. But to die—
[He shakes his hand in the quick triple flip of the wrist that is the Spanish gesture of supreme admiration]
To die? Priests? Terrific. You know; just simple priests. I don’t mean bishops.
PHILIP. And Antonio. Sometimes there must have been mistakes, eh? When you had to work in a hurry perhaps. Or you know, just mistakes, we all make mistakes. I just made a little one yesterday. Tell me, Antonio, were there ever any mistakes?
ANTONIO. Oh, yes. Certainly. Mistakes. Oh, yes. Mistakes. Yes. Yes. Very regrettable mistakes. A very few.
PHILIP. And how did the mistakes die?
ANTONIO. [Proudly] All very well.
PHILIP. Ah——
[It is noise a boxer might make when he is hit with a hard body punch]
And this trade we’re in now. You know, what’s the silly name they call it? Counter-espionage. It doesn’t ever get on your nerves?
ANTONIO. [Simply] No.
PHILIP. With me it’s on the nerves now for a long time.
ANTONIO. But you’ve only been doing it for a little while.
PHILIP. Twelve bloody months, my boy, in this country. And before that, Cuba. Ever been in Cuba?
ANTONIO. Yes.
PHILIP. That’s where I got sucked in on all this.
ANTONIO. How were you sucked in?
PHILIP. Oh, people started trusting me that should have known better. And I suppose because they should have known better I started getting, you know, sort of trustworthy. You know, not elaborately, just sort of moderately trustworthy. And then they trust you a little more and you do it all right. And then you know, you get to believing in it. Finally I guess you get to liking it. I have a sort of a feeling I don’t explain it very well.
ANTONIO. You’re a good boy. You work well. Everybody trusts you very much.
PHILIP. Too bloody much. And I’m tired too, and I’m worried right now. You know what I’d like? I’d like to never kill another son-of-a-bitch, I don’t care who or for what, as long as I live. I’d like to never have to lie. I’d like to know who I’m with when I wake up. I’d like to wake up in the same place every morning for a week straight. I’d like to marry a girl named Bridges that you don’t know. But don’t mind if I use the name because I like to say it. And I’d like to marry her because she’s got the longest, smoothest, straightest legs in the world, and I don’t have to listen to her when she talks if it doesn’t make too good sense. But I’d like to see what the kids would look like.
ANTONIO. She is the tall blonde with that correspondent?
PHILIP. Don’t talk about her like that. She isn’t any tall blonde with some correspondent. That’s my girl. And if I talk too much or take up your valuable time, why, stop me. You know I’m a very extraordinary fellow. I can talk either English or American. Was brought up in one, raised in the other. That’s what I make my living at.
ANTONIO. [Soothingly] I know. You are tired, Philip.
PHILIP. Well, now I’m talking American. Bridges is the same way. Only I’m not sure she can talk American. You see she learned her English at college and from the cheap or literary type of Lord, but you know what’s funny, you see. I just like to hear her talk. I don’t care what she says. I’m relaxed now, you see. I haven’t had anything to drink since breakfast, and I’m a lot drunker than I am when I drink, and that’s a bad sign. Is it all right for one of your operatives to relax, mi Coronel?
ANTONIO. You ought to go to bed. You’re tired out, Philip, and you have much work to do.
PHILIP. That’s right. I’m tired out and I have much work to do. I’m waiting to meet a comrade at Chicote’s. Name of Max. I have, and I do not exaggerate, very much work to do. Max, whom I believe you know and who, to show what a distinguished man he is, has no hind name, while my back name is Rawlings exactly the same as when I started. Which shows you I haven’t gotten very far in this business. What was I saying?
ANTONIO. About Max.
PHILIP. Max. That’s it. Max. Well he’s a day overdue now. He’s been navigating now for about two weeks, say circulating to avoid confusion, behind the fascist lines. It’s his specialty. And he says, and he doesn’t lie. I lie. But not right now. Anyway, I’m very tired, see, and I’m also disgusted with my job, and I’m nervous as a bastard because I’m worried and I don’t worry easy.
ANTONIO. Go on. Don’t be temperamental.
PHILIP. He says, that is Max says, and where he is now I wish to hell I knew, that he has a place located, an observation post, you know. Watch them fall, and say it’s the wrong place. One of those. Well, he says that the German head of the siege artillery that shells this town comes there and a lovely politician. You know a museum piece. He comes there too. And Max thinks. And I think he is screwball. But he thinks better. I think faster, but he thinks better. That we can bag those citizens. Now listen very carefully, mi Coronel, and correct me instantly. I think it sounds very romantic. But Max says, and he’s a German and very practical, and he’d just as soon go behind the fascist lines as you would go to get a shave, or what shall we say. Well he says it’s perfectly practical. So I thought. And I’m sort of drunk now on drinking nothing for so long. That we would sort of suspend the other projects that we have been working on, temporarily, and try to get these two people for you. I don’t think the German is of much practical use to you, but he has a very high exchange value indeed, and this project sort of, in a way, appeals to Max. Lay it to nationalism, I say. But if we get this other citizen you’ve got something, mi Coronel. Because he is very, very terrific. I mean terrific. He, you see, is outside the town. But he knows who is inside the town. And then you just sort of bring him into good voice and you know who is inside the town. Because they all communicate with him. I talk too much, don’t I?
PHILIP. Yes, Mi Coronel.
ANTONIO. Philip, now go to Chicote’s and get drunk like a good boy and do your work, and come or call when you have news.
PHILIP. And what do I talk, mi Coronel, American or English?
ANTONIO. What you like. Do not talk silly. But go now, please, because we are good friends and I like you very much, but I am very busy. Listen, is it true about the observation post?
PHILIP. Yeah.
ANTONIO. What a thing.
PHILIP. Very fancy, though. Awfully, awfully fancy, mi Coronel.
ANTONIO. Go, please, and start.
PHILIP. And I talk either English or American?
ANTONIO. What’s all that about? Go.
PHILIP. Then I’ll talk English. Christ, I can lie so much easier in English, it’s pitiful.
ANTONIO. GO. GO. GO. GO. GO.
PHILIP. Yes, mi Coronel. Thank you for the instructive little talk. I’ll go to Chicote’s now. Salud, mi Coronel.
[He salutes, looks at his watch and goes]
ANTONIO. [At the desk, looks after him. Then rings. Two ASSAULT GUARDS come in. They salute] Now just bring me in that man you took out before. I want to talk to him a little while alone by myself.
CURTAIN
ACT THREE • SCENE TWO
Interior of an artillery observation post in a shelled house on the top of the Extremadura road.
It is located in the tower of what has been a very pretentious house and access to it is by a ladder which replaces the circular iron stairway which has been smashed and hangs, broken and twisted. You see the ladder against the tower and at its top, the back of the observation post which faces toward Madrid. It is night and the sacks which plug its windows have been removed and looking out through them you see nothing but darkness because the lights of Madrid have been extinguished. There are large-scale military maps on the walls with the positions marked with colored tacks and tapes, and on a plain table there is a field telephone. There is an extra large size, single, German model, long tube telemeter opposite the narrow opening in the wall to the right of the table and a chair beside it. There is an ordinary-sized double tube telemeter at the other opening with a chair at its base. There is another plain table with a telephone on the right of the room. At the foot of the ladder is a SENTRY with fixed bayonet, and at the top of the ladder in the room, where there is just enough height for him to stand straight with his rifle and bayonet, there is another SENTRY. As the curtain rises, you see the scene as described with the TWO SENTRIES at their posts. Two SIGNALLERS are bending over the larger table. After the curtain is up, you see the lights of a motor which shine brightly on the ladder at the base of the tower. They come closer and closer and almost blind the SENTRY.
SENTRY. Cut those lights!
[The lights shine on, illuminating the SENTRY with a blinding light]
SENTRY. [Presenting his rifle, pulling back the bolt, and shoving it forward with a click] Cut those lights!
[He says it very slowly, clearly and dangerously, and it is obvious that he will fire. The lights go off and THREE MEN, two of them in officer’s uniform, one large and stout, the other rather thin and elegantly dressed, with riding boots which shine in the flashlight the stout man carries, and a CIVILIAN, cross the stage from the left where they have left the motor car off stage; and approach the ladder]
SENTRY. [Giving the first half of the password] The Victory——
THIN OFFICER. [Snappily and disdainfully] To those who deserve it.
SENTRY. Pass.
THIN OFFICER. [To CIVILIAN] Just climb up here.
CIVILIAN. I’ve been here before.
[The three of them climb the ladder. At the top of the ladder the SENTRY, seeing the insignia on the cap of the large, stout officer, presents arms. The SIGNALLERS remain seated at their telephones. The large officer goes over to the table followed by the CIVILIAN and the shiny-booted officer who is obviously his AIDE]
LARGE OFFICER. What’s the matter with these signallers?
AIDE. [To SIGNALLERS] Come along! Stand to attention there! What’s the matter with you?
[SIGNALLERS stand to attention rather wearily]
At ease!
[The SIGNALLERS sit down. The LARGE OFFICER is studying the map. The CIVILIAN looks out of the telemeter and sees nothing in the darkness]
CIVILIAN. The bombardment’s for midnight?
AIDE. What time is the shoot for, Sir?
[Speaking to the LARGE OFFICER]
LARGE OFFICER. [Speaking with a German accent] You talk too much!
AIDE. I’m sorry, sir. Would you care to have a look at these?
[He hands him a sheaf of typed orders clipped together. LARGE OFFICER takes them and glances at them. Hands them back]
LARGE OFFICER. [In heavy voice] I am familiar with them. I wrote them.
AIDE. Quite, sir. I thought perhaps you wished to verify them.
LARGE OFFICER. I heff verified them!
[One of the phones rings. SIGNALLER at table takes it and listens]
SIGNALLER. Yes. No. Yes. All right.
[He nods to the LARGE OFFICER]
For you, sir.
[LARGE OFFICER takes the phone]
LARGE OFFICER. Hello. Yes. That is right. Are you a fool? No? As ordered. By salvos means by salvos.
[He hangs up the receiver and looks at his watch] [To AIDE]
What time have you?
AIDE. Twelve minus one, sir.
LARGE OFFICER. I deal with fools here. You cannot say that you command where there is no discipline. Signallers who sit at table when a General comes in. Artillery brigadiers who ask for explanations of orders. What time did you say it was?
AIDE. [Looking at his watch] Twelve minus thirty seconds, sir.
SIGNALLER. The brigade called six times, sir!
LARGE OFFICER. [Lighting a cigar] What time?
AIDE. Minus fifteen, sir.
LARGE OFFICER. What minus fifteen what?
AIDE. Twelve minus fifteen seconds, sir.
[Just then you hear the guns. They are a very different sound from the incoming shells. There is a sharp, cracking boom, boom, boom, boom, as a kettle drum would make struck sharply before a microphone and then whish, whish, whish, whish, chu, chu, chu, chu, chu—chu—as the shells go away followed by a distant burst. Another battery closer and louder commences firing and then they are firing all along the line in quick, pounding thuds and the air is full of the noise the departing projectiles make. Through the open window you see the skyline of Madrid lit now by the flashes. The LARGE OFFICER is standing at the big telemeter. The CIVILIAN at the two-branched one. The AIDE is looking over the CIVILIAN’s shoulder]
CIVILIAN. God, what a beautiful sight!
AIDE. We’ll kill plenty of them tonight. The Marxist bastards. This catches them in their holes.
CIVILIAN. It’s wonderful to see it.
GENERAL. Is it satisfactory?
[He does not remove his eyes from the telemeter]
CIVILIAN. It’s beautiful! How long will it go on?
GENERAL. We’re giving them an hour. Then ten minutes without. Then fifteen minutes more.
CIVILIAN. No shells will light in the Salamanca quarter, will they? That’s where nearly all our people are.
GENERAL. A few will land there.
CIVILIAN. But why?
GENERAL. Errors by Spanish batteries.
CIVILIAN. Why by Spanish batteries?
GENERAL. Spanish batteries are not so good as ours.
[The CIVILIAN does not answer and the firing keeps up although the batteries are not firing with the speed with which they commenced. There is an incoming whistling rush, then a roar, and a shell has landed just short of the observation post]
GENERAL. They answer now a little.
[There are no lights in the observation post now except that of the gun flashes and the light of the cigarette the SENTRY at the foot of the ladder is smoking. As you watch you see the glow of this cigarette describe half an arc in the dark, and there is a thud clearly heard by the audience as the SENTRY falls. You hear the sound of two blows. Another shell comes in with the same sort of screaming rush, and at its burst you see in the flash two men climbing the ladder]
GENERAL. [Speaking from the telemeter] Ring me Garabitas.
[SIGNALLER rings. Then rings again]
SIGNALLER. Sorry, sir. The wire’s gone.
GENERAL. [To the other SIGNALLER] Get me through to the Division.
SIGNALLER. I have no wire, sir.
GENERAL. Put some one to trace your wire!
SIGNALLER. Yes, sir.
[He rises in the dark]
GENERAL. What’s that man smoking for? What sort of an army out of the chorus of Carmen is this?
[You see the cigarette in the mouth of the SENTRY at the top of the ladder describe a long parabola toward the ground as though he had tossed it away, and there is the solid noise of a body falling. A flashlight illuminates the three men by the telemeters and the two SIGNALLERS]
PHILIP. [From inside the open door at the top of the ladder. In a low, very quiet voice] Put your hands up and don’t try anything heroic, or I’ll blow your heads off!
[He is holding a short automatic rifle which was slung over his back as he climbed up the ladder]
I mean all five of you! KEEP them up there, you fat bastard!
[MAX has a hand grenade in his right hand, the flashlight in his left]
MAX. You make a noise, you move, and everybody is dead. You hear?
PHILIP. Who do you want?
MAX. Only the fat one and the townsman. Tie me up the rest. You have also good adhesive tape?
PHILIP. Da.
MAX. You see. We are all Russians. Everybody is Russians in Madrid! Hurry up, Tovarich, and tape good the mouths, because I have to throw this thing before we go. You see the pin is pulled already!
[Just before the curtain goes down, as PHILIP is advancing toward them with the short automatic rifle, you see the men’s white faces in the flashlight. The batteries are still firing. From below and beyond the house comes a voice—“Cut out that light!”]
MAX. O.K. soldier, in just a minute!
CURTAIN
ACT THREE • SCENE THREE
As the curtain rises you see the same room in Seguridad headquarters that was shown in Act II, Scene I. ANTONIO, of the Comisariato de Vigilancia, is sitting behind the table. PHILIP and MAX, muddy and much the worse for wear, are seated in the two chairs. PHILIP still has the automatic rifle slung over his back. The CIVILIAN from the observation post, his beret gone, his trench coat ripped clean up the back, one sleeve hanging loose, is standing before the table with an ASSAULT GUARD on either side of him.
ANTONIO. [To the two ASSAULT GUARDS] You can go!
[They salute and go out to the right, carrying their rifles at trail] [To PHILIP]
What became of the other?
PHILIP. We lost him coming in.
MAX. He was too heavy and he would not walk.
ANTONIO. It would have been a wonderful capture.
PHILIP. You can’t do these things as they do them in the cinema.
ANTONIO. Still, if we could have had him!
PHILIP. I’ll draw you a little map and you can send out there and find him.
ANTONIO. Yes?
MAX. He was a soldier and he would never have talked. I would have liked the questioning of him, but such a business is useless.
PHILIP. When we’re through here I’ll draw you a little map and you can send out for him. No one will have moved him. We left him in a likely spot.
CIVILIAN. [In an hysterical voice] You murdered him.
PHILIP. [Contemptuously] Shut up, will you?
MAX. I promise you, he would not have ever talked. I know such men.
PHILIP. You see, we didn’t expect to find two of these sportsmen at the same time. And this other specimen was oversized and he wouldn’t walk finally. He made a sort of sit-down strike. And I don’t know whether you’ve ever tried coming in at night from up there. There are a couple of very odd spots. So you see we didn’t really have any bloody choice in the matter.
CIVILIAN. [Hysterically] So you murdered him! I saw you do it.
PHILIP. Just quiet down, will you? No one asked you for your opinion.
MAX. You want us now?
ANTONIO. No.
MAX. I think I like to go. This isn’t what I like very much. It makes too much remember.
PHILIP. You need me?
ANTONIO. No.
PHILIP. You don’t need to worry. You’ll get everything—the lists, the locations, everything. This thing has been running it.
ANTONIO. Yes.
PHILIP. You don’t need to worry about his talking. He’s the talkative type.
ANTONIO. He is a politician. Yes. I have talked to many politicians.
CIVILIAN. [Hysterically] You’ll never make me talk! Never! Never! Never!
[MAX and PHILIP look at each other—PHILIP grins]
PHILIP. [Very quietly] You’re talking now. Haven’t you noticed it?
CIVILIAN. No! No!
MAX. If it is all right I will go.
[He stands up]
PHILIP. I’ll run along too, I think.
ANTONIO. You do not want to stay to hear it?
MAX. Please, no.
ANTONIO. It will be very interesting.
PHILIP. It’s that we are tired.
ANTONIO. It will be very interesting.
PHILIP. I’ll be by tomorrow.
ANTONIO. I would like you very much to stay.
MAX. Please. If you do not mind. As a favor.
CIVILIAN. What are you going to do to me?
ANTONIO. Nothing. Only that you should answer some questions.
ANTONIO. Oh, yes, you will!
MAX. Please. Please. I go now!
CURTAIN
ACT THREE • SCENE FOUR
Same as Act I, Scene III, but it is late afternoon. As the curtain rises, you see the two rooms. DOROTHY BRIDGES’ room is dark. PHILIP’s is lighted, with the curtains drawn. PHILIP is lying face down on the bed. ANITA is sitting on a chair by the bed.
ANITA. Philip!
PHILIP. [Not turning or looking toward her] What’s the matter?
ANITA. Please, Philip.
PHILIP. Please bloody what?
ANITA. Where is whiskey?
PHILIP. Under the bed.
ANITA. Thank you.
[She looks under the bed. Then crawls part way under]
No find.
PHILIP. Try the closet then. Somebody’s been in here cleaning up again.
ANITA. [Goes to the closet and opens it. She looks carefully inside] Is all empty bottles.
PHILIP. You’re just a little discoverer. Come here.
ANITA. I want find a whiskey.
PHILIP. Look in the night table.
[ANITA goes over to the night table by the bed and opens the door—she brings out a bottle of whiskey. Goes for a glass into the bathroom, and pours a whiskey into it and adds water from the carafe by the bed]
ANITA. Philip. Drink this feel better.
[PHILIP sits up and looks at her]
PHILIP. Hello, Black Beauty. How did you get in here?
ANITA. From the pass key.
PHILIP. Well.
ANITA. I no see you. I plenty worried. I come here they say you inside. I knock door no answer. I knock more. No answer. I say open me up with the pass key.
PHILIP. And they did?
ANITA. I said you sent for me.
PHILIP. Did I?
ANITA. No.
PHILIP. Thoughtful of you to come though.
ANITA. Philip you still that big blonde?
PHILIP. I don’t know. I’m sort of mixed up about that. Things are getting sort of complicated. Every night I ask her to marry me, and every morning I tell her I don’t mean it. I think, probably, things can’t go on like that. No. They can’t go on like that.
[ANITA sits down by him and pats his head and smooths his hair back]
ANITA. You feel plenty bad. I know.
PHILIP. Want me to tell you a secret?
ANITA. Yes.
PHILIP. I never felt worse.
ANITA. Is a disappoint. Was think you tell how you catch all the people of the Fifth Column.
PHILIP. I didn’t catch them. Only caught one man. Disgusting specimen he was, too.
[There is a knock on the door. It is the MANAGER]
MANAGER. Excuse profoundly if disturbation——
PHILIP. Keep it clean you know. There’s ladies present.
MANAGER. I mean only to enter and see if every thing in order. Control possible actions of young lady in case your absence or incapacity. Also desire offer sincerest warmest greetings congratulations admirable performance feat of counterespionage resulting announcement evening papers arrest three hundred members Fifth Column.
PHILIP. That’s in the paper?
MANAGER. With details of arrestations of every type of reprehensible engaged in shooting, plotting assassinations—sabotaging, communicating with enemy, every form of delights.
PHILIP. Of delights?
MANAGER. Is a French word, spells out D-E-L-I-T-S, meaning offenses.
PHILIP. And that’s all in the paper?
MANAGER. Absolutely, Mr. Philip.
PHILIP. And where do I come in?
MANAGER. Oh, everybody knows you were engaged in prosecution of such investigations.
PHILIP. Just how do they know?
MANAGER. [Reproachfully] Mr. Philip. Is Madrid. In Madrid everybody knows everything often before occurrence of same. After occurrence sometimes is discussions as to who actually did. But before occurrence all the world knows clearly who must do. I offer congratulations now in order to precede reproaches of unsatisfiables who ask, “Ah ha! Only 300? Where are the others?”
PHILIP. Don’t be so gloomy. I suppose I’ll have to be leaving now though.
MANAGER. Mr. Philip, I have thought of that and I come here, make what hope will result as excellent proposition. If you leave is useless to carry tinned goods as baggage.
[There is a knock on the door. It is MAX]
MAX. Salud camaradas.
EVERY ONE. Salud.
PHILIP. [To MANAGER] Run along now, Comrade Stamp Collector. We can talk about that later.
MAX. [To PHILIP] Wie gehts?
PHILIP. Gut. Not too gut.
ANITA. O.K. I take bath?
PHILIP. More than O.K., darling. But keep the door shut, will you?
ANITA. [From bathroom] Is warm water.
PHILIP. That’s a good sign. Shut the door, please.
[ANITA shuts the door. MAX comes over by the bed and sits down on a chair. PHILIP is sitting on the bed with his legs hanging over]
PHILIP. Want anything?
MAX. No, Comrade. You were there?
PHILIP. Oh, yes. I stayed all through it. Every bit of it. All of it. They needed to know something and they called me back.
MAX. How was he?
PHILIP. Cowardly. But it only came out a little at a time for a while.
MAX. And then?
PHILIP. Oh, and then finally he was spilling it out faster than a stenographer could take it. I have a strong stomach, you know.
MAX [Ignoring this] I see in the paper about the arrests. Why do they publish such things?
PHILIP. I don’t know, my boy. Why do they? I’ll bite.
MAX. It is good for morale. But it is also very good to get every one. Did they bring in—the—ah——
PHILIP. Oh, yes. The corpse you mean? They fetched him in from where we left him, and Antonio had him placed in a chair in the corner and I put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it and it was all very jolly. Only the cigarette wouldn’t stay lighted, of course.
MAX. I am very happy I did not have to stay.
PHILIP. I stayed. And then I left. And then I came back. Then I left and they called me back again. I’ve been there until an hour ago and now I’m through. For today, that is. Finished my work for the day. Something else to do tomorrow.
MAX. We did very good job.
PHILIP. As good as we could. It was very brilliant and very flashy, and there were probably many holes in the net and a big part of the haul got away. But they can haul again. You have to send me some place else though. I’m no good here any more. Too many people know what I’m doing. Not because I talk, either. It just gets that way.
MAX. There are many places to send. But you still have some work to do here.
PHILIP. I know. But ship me out as quickly as you can, will you? I’m getting on the jumpy side.
MAX. What about the girl in the other room?
PHILIP. Oh, I’m going to break it off with her.
MAX. I do not ask that.
PHILIP. No. But you would sooner or later. There’s no sense babying me along. We’re in for fifty years of undeclared wars and I’ve signed up for the duration. I don’t exactly remember when it was, but I signed up all right.
MAX. So have we all. There is no question of signing. There is no need to talk with bitterness.
PHILIP. I’m not bitter. I just don’t want to fool myself. Nor let things get a hold in part of me where no things should get hold. This thing was getting pretty well in. Well, I know how to cure it.
MAX. How?
PHILIP. I’ll show you how.
MAX. Remember, Philip, I am a kind man.
PHILIP. Oh, quite. So am I. You ought to watch me work sometime.
[While they have been talking you see the door of 109 open and DOROTHY BRIDGES comes in. She turns up the lights, takes off her street coat and puts on the silver fox cape. Standing, she turns in it before the mirror. She looks very beautiful this evening. She goes to the phonograph and puts on the Chopin Mazurka and sits in a chair by the reading light with a book]
PHILIP. There she is. She’s come, what do you call the place, home—now.
MAX. Philip, Comrade, you do not have to. I tell you truly I see no signs that she interferes with your work in any way.
PHILIP. No, but I do. And you would damned soon.
MAX. I leave it to you as before. But remember to be kind. To us to whom dreadful things have been done, kindness in all possible things is of great importance.
PHILIP. I’m very kind, too, you know. Oh, am I kind! I’m terrific!
MAX. No, I do not know that you are kind. I would like you to be.
PHILIP. Just wait in here, will you?
[PHILIP goes out of the door and knocks on the door of 109. He pushes it open after knocking and goes in]
DOROTHY. Hello, beloved.
PHILIP. Hello. How have you been?
DOROTHY. I’m very well and very happy now you’re here. Where have you been? You never came in last night. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.
PHILIP. Have you a drink?
DOROTHY. Yes, darling.
[She makes him a whiskey and water. In the other room MAX is sitting in a chair staring at the electric stove]
DOROTHY. Where were you, Philip?
PHILIP. Just around. Checking up on things.
DOROTHY. And how were things?
PHILIP. Some were good, you know. And some were not so good. I suppose they evened up.
DOROTHY. And you don’t have to go out tonight?
PHILIP. I don’t know.
DOROTHY. Philip, beloved, what’s the matter?
PHILIP. Nothing’s the matter.
DOROTHY. Philip, let’s go away from here. I don’t have to stay here. I’ve sent away three articles. We could go to that place near Saint-Tropez and the rains haven’t started yet and it would be lovely there now with no people. Then afterwards we could go to ski.
PHILIP. [Very bitterly] Yes, and afterwards to Egypt and make love happily in all the hotels, and a thousand breakfasts come up on trays in the thousand fine mornings of the next three years; or the ninety of the next three months; or however long it took you to be tired of me, or me of you. And all we’d do would be amuse ourselves. We’d stay at the Crillon, or the Ritz, and in the fall when the leaves were off the trees in the Bois and it was sharp and cold, we’d drive out to Auteuil steeplechasing, and keep warm by those big coal braziers in the paddock, and watch them take the water jump and see them coming over the bullfinch and the old stone wall. That’s it. And nip into the bar for a champagne cocktail and afterwards ride back in to dinner at La Rue’s and weekends go to shoot pheasants in the Sologne. Yes, yes, that’s it. And fly out to Nairobi and the old Mathaiga Club, and in the spring a little spot of salmon fishing. Yes, yes, that’s it. And every night in bed together. Is that it?
DOROTHY. Oh, darling, think how it would be! Have you that much money?
PHILIP. I did have. Till I got into this business.
DOROTHY. And we’ll do all that and Saint Moritz, too?
PHILIP. Saint Moritz? Don’t be vulgar. Kitzbühel you mean. You meet people like Michael Arlen at Saint Moritz.
DOROTHY. But you wouldn’t have to meet him, darling. You could cut him. And will we really do all that?
PHILIP. Do you want to?
DOROTHY. Oh, darling!
PHILIP. Would you like to go to Hungary, too, some fall? You can take an estate there very cheaply and only pay for what you shoot. And on the Danube flats you have great flights of geese. And have you ever been to Lamu where the long white beach is, with the dhows beached on their sides, and the wind in the palms at night? Or what about Malindi where you can surfboard on the beach and the northeast monsoon cool and fresh, and no pajamas, and no sheets at night. You’d like Malindi.
DOROTHY. I know I would, Philip.
PHILIP. And have you ever been out to the Sans Souci in Havana on a Saturday night to dance in the Patio under the royal palms? They’re gray and they rise like columns and you stay up all night there and play dice, or the wheel, and drive in to Jaimanitas for breakfast in the daylight. And everybody knows every one else and it’s very pleasant and gay.
DOROTHY. Can we go there?
PHILIP. No.
DOROTHY. Why not, Philip?
PHILIP. We won’t go anywhere.
DOROTHY. Why not, darling?
PHILIP. You can go if you like. I’ll draw you up an itinerary.
DOROTHY. But why can’t we go together?
PHILIP. You can go. But I’ve been to all those places and I’ve left them all behind. And where I go now I go alone, or with others who go there for the same reason I go.
DOROTHY. And I can’t go there?
PHILIP. No.
DOROTHY. And why can’t I go wherever it is? I could learn and I’m not afraid.
PHILIP. One reason is I don’t know where it is. And another is I wouldn’t take you.
DOROTHY. Why not?
PHILIP. Because you’re useless, really. You’re uneducated, you’re useless, you’re a fool and you’re lazy.
DOROTHY. Maybe the others. But I’m not useless.
PHILIP. Why aren’t you useless?
DOROTHY. You know—or you ought to know.
[She is crying]
PHILIP. Oh, yes. That.
DOROTHY. Is that all it means to you?
PHILIP. That’s a commodity you shouldn’t pay too high a price for.
DOROTHY. So I’m a commodity?
PHILIP. Yes, a very handsome commodity. The most beautiful I ever had.
DOROTHY. Good. I’m glad to hear you say it. And I’m glad it’s daylight. Now get out of here. You conceited, conceited drunkard. You ridiculous, puffed-up, posing braggart. You commodity, you. Did it ever occur to you that you’re a commodity, too? A commodity one shouldn’t pay too high a price for?
PHILIP. [Laughing] No. But I see it the way you put it.
DOROTHY. Well, you are. You’re a perfectly vicious commodity. Never home. Out all night. Dirty, muddy, disorderly. You’re a terrible commodity. I just liked the package it was put up in. That was all. I’m glad you’re going away.
PHILIP. Really?
DOROTHY. Yes, really. You and your commodity. But you didn’t have to mention all those places if we weren’t ever going to them.
PHILIP. I’m very sorry. That wasn’t kind.
DOROTHY. Oh, don’t be kind either. You’re frightful when you’re kind. Only kind people should try being kind. You’re horrible when you’re kind. And you didn’t have to mention them in the daytime.
PHILIP. I’m sorry.
DOROTHY. Oh, don’t be sorry. You’re at your worst when you’re sorry. I can’t stand you sorry. Just get out.
PHILIP. Well, good-bye.
[He puts his arms around her to kiss her]
DOROTHY. Don’t kiss me either. You’ll kiss me and then you’ll go right in to commodities. I know you.
[PHILIP holds her tight and kisses her]
Oh, Philip, Philip, Philip.
PHILIP. Good-bye.
DOROTHY. You—you—you don’t want the commodity?
PHILIP. I can’t afford it.
[DOROTHY twists away from him]
DOROTHY. Then, go then.
PHILIP. Good-bye.
DOROTHY. Oh, get out.
[PHILIP goes out the door and into his room. MAX is still sitting in the chair. In the other room DOROTHY rings the bell for the maid]
MAX. So?
[PHILIP stands there looking into the electric stove. MAX looks into the stove too. In the other room PETRA has come to the door]
PETRA. Yes, Señorita.
[DOROTHY is sitting on the bed. Her head is up but there are tears running down her cheeks. PETRA goes over to her]
What is it, Señorita?
DOROTHY. Oh, Petra, he’s bad just as you said he was. He’s bad, bad, bad. And like a damn fool I thought we were going to be happy. But he’s bad.
PETRA. Yes, Señorita.
DOROTHY. But oh, Petra, the trouble is I love him.
[PETRA stands there by the bed with
DOROTHY. In Room 110 PHILIP stands in front of the night table. He pours himself a whiskey and puts water in it]
ANITA. [From inside the bathroom] Yes, Philip.
PHILIP. Anita, come out whenever you’ve finished your bath.
MAX. I go.
PHILIP. No. Stay around.
MAX. No. No. No. Please, I go.
PHILIP. [In a very dry flat voice] Anita, was the water hot?
ANITA. [From inside the bathroom] Was lovely bath.
MAX. I go. Please, please, please, I go.
CURTAIN