# The Prime Minister/Act II

SECOND ACT
Scene.—Sir Robert Temple's Sofa at right angles with fireplace. Fire burning. Shaded electric lamp still burning under portrait over fireplace. Afternoon. Park is seen without.
When curtain rises there is the faint sound of soldiers drilling on parade-ground between house and park—tramp, tramp, and voice of drill-sergeant. Sir Robert is at his desk, reading and signing letters. Secretaries in khaki are coming and going silently.
Enter Galloway by lower door, R.
Galloway.
Sir Malcolm Clark, the Chief Commissioner of Metropolitan Police, wishes to see you, sir.
Sir Robert.
Bring him in.
[Sir Malcolm Clark enters. He is one of the three who appeared at the beginning of the foregoing scene.
Sir Malcolm.
Good day, sir.
​Sir Robert.
Good day, Sir Malcolm. Sit down.
Sir Malcolm.
[Sitting.] According to instructions from the Home Department, I have come to report to you personally the result of the work of the Metropolitan Police in carrying out the new regulations of the military authorities with respect to enemy aliens. The register is now practically complete, sir.
Sir Robert.
Good!
Sir Malcolm.
We have devoted ourselves especially to that part of the register in which you are yourself particularly interested—the professional classes, who in the previous war so often evaded observation.
Sir Robert.
And what have you discovered?
Sir Malcolm.
That large numbers of enemy aliens, male and female——
Sir Robert.
Male and female?
Sir Malcolm.
[Nodding.] — have been carrying on a subterranean propaganda by means of clubs——
Sir Robert.
Clubs?
​Sir Malcolm.
[Nodding.] Literary, musical and scientific clubs, ostensibly established in the interests of culture, but really of conspiracy.
Sir Robert.
For instance?
Sir Malcolm.
The Wagner Club, the Koch Club, the Goethe Club——
Sir Robert.
Goethe Club? Haven't we heard of that before?
Sir Malcolm.
We have, sir, in connexion with the man Dr. Paul Schiller. Dangerous person, tried for treason, sir.
Sir Robert.
Died suddenly in prison, didn't he?
Sir Malcolm.
Unfortunately, yes. He had been president of the Goethe Club, and now his brother, Dr. Gottfried Schiller, a teacher of music, has succeeded him.
Sir Robert.
Another dangerous person. Sir Malcolm?
Sir Malcolm.
Unquestionably. In fact, the Schillers are all dangerous, sir.
Sir Robert.
Where do they live?
​Sir Malcolm.
In one of the old houses in Soho Square.
Sir Robert.
What family?
Sir Malcolm.
The wife, a good-natured creature of no account; a son, Friedrich, who used to be a night editor at one of the continental telegraphic agencies——
Sir Robert.
Ah!
Sir Malcolm.
We've had him removed, sir. [Sir Robert nods approval.] Then a son of Paul Schiller, Otto, formerly a medical student at one of the hospitals, and—his sister.
Sir Robert.
A younger sister?
Sir Malcolm.
Older. About six-and-twenty, intensely hostile to this country, and apparently the brains of the whole group, sir.
Sir Robert.
Have you seen this person, Sir Malcolm?
Sir Malcolm.
I have, sir. Having heard something about the young woman, I went to Soho Square myself this morning expressly to see her.
Sir Robert.
What's her name?
​Sir Malcolm.
Margaret—Margaret Schiller.
Sir Robert.
Clever, you say?
Sir Malcolm.
Very. Born and educated in this country. Took high honours at college, sir.
Sir Robert.
What's she doing—anything?
Sir Malcolm.
Nothing. She has been trying to get a situation as governess, but has not yet succeeded.
Sir Robert.
Intensely hostile to England, is she?
Sir Malcolm.
Intensely, I hear. Embittered by her father's fate, they say.
Sir Robert.
[Rising.] Of course, you are suppressing all these so-called clubs?
Sir Malcolm.
[Also rising.] We are, sir.
Sir Robert.
Let there be no playing with fire, Sir Malcolm.
Sir Malcolm.
There shan't be, sir.
​Sir Robert.
No qualms, no sentimentalism, no mistaken chivalry.
Sir Malcolm.
There shall be none, sir.
Sir Robert.
These professional and teaching classes must be strictly watched.
Sir Malcolm.
They shall be, sir.
Sir Robert.
Both men and women—women particularly.
Sir Malcolm.
[Nodding.] Women particularly, sir.
Sir Robert.
During the last war we made the mistake of interning the men and leaving the more dangerous sex at liberty. We must not repeat that error.
Sir Malcolm.
We must not, sir.
Sir Robert.
If it should ever come to your knowledge that enemy aliens of either sex are being harboured in the houses of public servants you must rout them out.
Sir Malcolm.
I shall.
​Sir Robert.
We have five millions of men on the battlefields to think about. It is our duty to see that their lives are not further imperilled by secret communication with the enemy.
Sir Malcolm.
It is indeed, sir.
Enter Galloway by lower door, R.
Galloway.
Miss Michel has arrived, sir.
Sir Robert.
Ah!—Take her up to her ladyship—Or wait! Bring her in here for a moment. I wish to speak to her.
Galloway.
Yes, sir. [Galloway beckons to somebody outside.
Sir Robert.
A young Swiss girl who has come to be governess to my little daughter.
[Margaret Schiller enters. She is pale and nervous. Her eyes are fixed on Sir Robert Temple, so that she does not look at the Chief Commissioner, whose back is towards the door. Sir Robert receives her cordially. His voice softens. He offers his hand. She takes it a little nervously.
I must apologize for not sending to the station to meet you, Miss Michel. I received your telegram and intended to send it up to my sister-in-law, but in the pressure of business the matter passed out of my mind. Just come from Charing Cross ?
​Margaret.
[Nervously.] Yes—that is to say——
Sir Robert.
Your hand is cold. You've had a long journey. Come over to the fire. [Leading her across.] Galloway, tell her ladyship that Miss Michel has arrived, and ask her to bring down Miss Peggy.
Galloway.
[Going.] Yes, sir.
Sir Robert.
And, Galloway—you may as well serve tea here to-day.
Galloway.
Yes, sir.
[Galloway goes out R. Margaret sits on sofa by fire. Sir Robert returns to Chief Commissioner, who stands ready to go.
Sir Robert.
[Leading him out.] As I was saying, Sir Malcolm——
Sir Malcolm.
[Who has been looking steadfastly at Margaret.] Pardon me, sir, what did you say the young lady's name was?
Sir Robert.
Michel—Freda Michel.
Sir Malcolm.
Swiss?
​Sir Robert.
French-Swiss, I suppose—from Zurich, I think.
Sir Malcolm.
And she has come from Zurich to-day?
Sir Robert.
Yes, just arrived by the express from Dover.
Sir Malcolm.
Strange! I thought I had seen her before, sir.
[They go out talking. Margaret Schiller is left alone. She rises, looks about her.
Margaret.
[In a whisper.] His room! [Sees portrait over fire-place.] His wife! [Sees small photograph on chimney-piece.] His child!
[Upper door on R. opens and a little girl of seven enters. Very sweet and talkative. It is Peggy. Margaret makes a slight start.
Peggy.
[Holding out her hand to Margaret.] Auntie Dorothy will be down soon. Are you my governess?
Margaret.
[Recovering herself.] I—I suppose so, dear.
Peggy.
I'm Peggy.
Margaret.
[Startled.] Peggy? So your name is Peggy?
​Peggy.
Yes, but that's not my real, real name, you know.
Margaret.
Then what is your real, real name, dear?
Peggy.
Margaret.
Margaret.
[With a gasp.] So—your name is Margaret?
Peggy.
Yes, but mamma's name was Margaret, too, so when I was a little wee, wee baby papa called me Peggy.
Margaret.
[Forgetting herself for a moment and the mission that has brought her there, and drawing the child to her side.] Do you know, my mamma's name was Margaret, and when I was a wee, wee girlie my father used to—[Checking herself, then pointing to the picture.] That's a picture of your mamma, isn't it?
Peggy.
[Nodding.] Um!
Margaret.
Don't people say you are very like your mamma, Peggy?
Peggy.
Yes, papa says mamma and I are twins.
Margaret.
[Laughing a little and putting her arm around the child.] As like as twins. You loved your mamma, didn't you?
​Peggy.
Yes, and papa, too.
Margaret.
But isn't papa very—very strict with you?
Peggy.
What's strict?
Margaret.
Being cross when you do things.
Peggy.
Auntie Dorothy says papa soils me.
Margaret.
[Another little laugh.] You mean spoils.
Peggy.
What's spoils?
Margaret.
Indulging you—giving you all your own way.
Peggy.
Papa is going to give me a puppy for my birthday.
Margaret.
Really! [Lifting the child on to her knee, her voice beginning to break.] Do you know, when I was a little girl like you my father gave me a little dog for my birthday.
Peggy.
Did your papa soil—spoil—you, then?
​Margaret.
I'm afraid he did. [With emotion.] He would have died for me.
Peggy.
And did he?
Margaret.
[Checking emotion, laughing a little.] Not that exactly.
Peggy.
[With an air of great mystery.] Did the foreigners kill him?
Margaret.
[Changed voice, putting the child down.] No, not the foreigners.
Peggy.
Lucy says the foreigners want to kill my papa.
Margaret. [With a start.] Who is Lucy?
Peggy.
Nursie. Lucy hates the foreigners. So do I. [Lifting her little finger in Margaret's face and assuming an air of mystery.] They get into houses, and do things, terrible things, shocking things. Lucy says cook must be a foreigner—'cause she's always poisoning us with roly-poly pudding.
[Margaret laughs. Lady Dorothy Nugent enters by upper door, L. Margaret rises.
Margaret.
Lady Dorothy?
​Lady Dorothy.
Yes. [Shaking hands.] You've made the acquaintance of your little pupil, I see.
Margaret.
Yes, we are quite good friends already.
Lady Dorothy.
Telling you about Lucy, wasn't she? Lucy has been frightening the child with foolish stories. You must put an end to all that, Miss Michel—Freda, I think?
Margaret.
[After a slight start.] Yes. Enter Galloway with tea.
Galloway.
Sir Robert told me to bring tea here, my lady.
Lady Dorothy.
Here? [To Margaret.] That must be in your honour.
Margaret.
It was very sweet—I mean very kind of him.
Lady Dorothy.
My brother-in-law is the kindest man in the world.
Margaret.
[Off her guard for a moment.] That is not what people say of him, ma'am.
​Lady Dorothy.
What do they say?
Margaret.
[Recovering herself, hesitating.] They say—but perhaps it is only on the Continent and in the enemy newspapers——
Lady Dorothy.
I know—that he is harsh, austere, cruel, and even brutal. Wrong! Utterly wrong! Sir Robert Temple is really the tenderest-hearted being alive.
Margaret.
[With a scarcely concealed sneer.] Ah!
Lady Dorothy.
Not that he is incapable of firmness when occasion requires—in his public capacity, for example. And even in private life, if he thought anybody had deceived or betrayed him— Ah, here he is!
[Sir Robert returns by lower door, R. Peggy runs to him, crying " Papa! " He picks up the child in his arms, kisses her.
Sir Robert.
You little jilt! You'll desert your poor old papa, now that your governess has come. Ever been in England before, Miss Michel?
Margaret.
[Hesitatingly.] No, sir.
[Galloway draws blinds, switches up lights, and goes out.
​Lady Dorothy.
[Serving tea.] Tea, Robert?
Sir Robert.
[Back to fire, taking cup.] Thanks! You would come by way of Geneva and so on to Calais?
Margaret.
Yes, sir.
Sir Robert.
Then you must have cut across the border of the old battlefields and seen something of the ravages of the war?
Margaret.
[With a momentary flash of her former self.] I did, sir.
Sir Robert.
All the needless and barbaric waste which our ruthless enemy has left behind him in his retreat!
Margaret.
[With a gasp.] Ah!
Sir Robert.
Let me see—you would come through the Marne. Did you come through the Marne?
Margaret.
[Confusedly.] Yes—I don't quite know—it may have been in the night, sir. [Rising.] If you will excuse me, Lady Dorothy, I should like to go to my room for a while. I have a little headache
​Lady Dorothy.
[Also rising and touching bell.] Do, my dear. And don't think it necessary to come down again to-night. Your supper shall be sent up to you.
Sir Robert.
And Peggy must go to bed also.
Peggy.
No, no, papa.
Sir Robert.
Yes, yes, missie. Off you go! [Upper door R. is opened. Maid enters. But you and Mary may take Miss Michel to her room first.
Peggy.
No, no!
[Peggy, bubbling with laughter, dodges round sofa, table, etc. Her father chases her, crying, "You rogue! You little rogue! Run away will you ? " Finally he catches her, choking with laughter. She leads him to sofa, jumps on to it, dances on its springs, then leaps into his arms. Then he carries her, in silence, in front of her mother's picture, and, with a solemn face, she kisses her hand to it. Then he takes her up to door, kisses her, drops her to her feet.
Sir Robert.
Good night, darling! Good night, Miss Michel!
​Margaret.
[At door, after watching this scene with obvious emotion.] Good night, sir!
Peggy.
[Giving her hand to Margaret.] Good night, papa! See you in the morning.
[Margaret and Peggy go out by upper door, R. Sir Robert returns to desk.
Lady Dorothy.
Well, how does she strike you?
Sir Robert.
I like her. A little over-sensitive but with fine depths of character, I should say. How does she strike you?
Lady Dorothy.
I'm not sure
Sir Robert.
Not sure?
Lady Dorothy.
To tell you the truth, I can't help feeling the girl has come into the house with a certain hostile feeling against——
Sir Robert.
Against whom?
Lady Dorothy.
Well—against you.
Sir Robert.
What reason have you for thinking that, Dorothy?
​Lady Dorothy.
No reason—not to say reason—only a sort of feminine instinct, I suppose.
[Galloway enters by lower door.
Galloway.
Sir Malcolm Clark has come back, and is anxious to see you, sir.
Sir Robert.
Very well, bring him in.
[Lady Dorothy goes out by upper door, R., as the Chief Commissioner re-enters by lower, R.
Sir Malcolm.
Sorry to trouble you again, but the matter seems urgent.
Sir Robert.
[Pointing to cfiair.] What is it ?
Sir Malcolm.
[Sitting.] When you told me that if I found enemy aliens of either sex in the homes of public officials I was to rout them out, I presume you meant officials of all classes, sir ?
Sir Robert.}}
Undoubtedly.
Sir Malcolm.
In that case you will pardon my presumption in coming to your house first.
Sir Robert.
Mine?
​Sir Malcolm.
The young governess who came in as I went out- have you any personal knowledge of her, sir?
Sir Robert.
Personal? No! I have never seen her before to-day. Why do you ask?
Sir Malcolm.
Because—You may remember that I thought I had seen her before. Now I'm sure of it.
Sir Robert.
It must have been in some foreign country, then, for the young lady has just told me she has never before been in England.
Sir Malcolm.
May I say, sir, that except, perhaps, on holiday she has never been out of it?
Sir Robert.
[A little vexed.] Mr. Commissioner, you bewilder me. A young Swiss girl, living in Zurich, is recommended to me as governess to my little daughter. I send for her. She leaves home to come to me. On the way she telegraphs to me. [Taking up telegram from desk.] Here is her telegram: "Dover 2.20 p.m. Arrive Charing Cross 4 o'clock.—Freda Michel." In due course she arrives, and now you tell me——
Sir Malcolm.
I venture to tell you, sir, that the person who arrives at your house is not Freda Michel, the Swiss governess from Zurich——
​Sir Robert.
Who then?
Sir Malcolm.
Margaret Schiller, the girl of enemy origin whose associations I have described to you.
Sir Robert.
[A little annoyed.] I must ask you to explain yourself, Sir Malcolm.
Sir Malcolm.
With pleasure. As I entered the apartment of Dr. Schiller this morning I collided with a young man who was coming out. It was Otto Schiller. He was in a hurry to be off, and in the course of some parley said he had to meet a train at Charing Cross at four o'clock.
Sir Robert.
Well?
Sir Malcolm.
After he was gone, and while my officers were questioning the old lady, I looked round and found this telegram propped up on the mantelpiece.
[Takes telegram from pocket and hands it to Sir Robert.
Sir Robert.
[Reading.] " Dover, 2.20 p.m. Margaret Schiller, Soho Square. Arrive Charing Cross at 4. Ask Otto to meet me.—Freda." Well?
Sir Malcolm.
Then Margaret Schiller herself came in, and I took particular note of her.
​Sir Robert.
[Eagerly.] Well?
Sir Malcolm.
I found her the exact counterpart—if she is a counterpart—of the young woman who came into this room as I went out.
Sir Robert.
But isn't it possible that with your mind running on the case—
Sir Malcolm.
I thought of that, sir, so I hurried back to my office and looked up the inspector's entry. Here is a copy, sir. [Handing a paper.
Sir Robert.
[Reading.] "Margaret Schiller, tall, dark, nervous, a little over-sensitive." Ah! [Rises, obviously disturbed.] But, after all, this is only a general description. It may apply equally to Freda Michel.
Sir Malcolm.
I thought of that too, sir, so I sent round to Charing Cross to inquire if a young lady answering generally to that description had arrived by the 4 from Dover.
Sir Robert.
And what was the result?
Sir Malcolm.
Unfortunately, nothing. The special man we have had at the station since the war began was away when the train came in. But we learned that a ​young lady, travelling alone, did arrive by the continental train, that she had been met by a young man, and they had gone off in a taxi.
Sir Robert.
You don't know where they went to?
Sir Malcolm.
No. The train being a heavy one, the taxi had to be taken in the Strand. It can't be traced, sir.
Sir Robert.
But you think they went to that house in Soho Square?
Sir Malcolm.
I'm practically sure of it, sir.
Sir Robert.
You also think that some hocus-pocus exchange took place there, and while the Swiss girl remained in Soho——
Sir Malcolm.
The girl Schiller came here, sir.
Sir Robert.
[Drawing himself up.] Mr. Commissioner, I tell you frankly, I shall be sorry if I am compelled to accept your story.
Sir Malcolm.
No doubt, sir.
Sir Robert.
In the first place, it requires me to believe that a woman—a mere girl—would dare to enter the house ​of a Minister of State in a false character and for the purpose of espionage.
Sir Malcolm.
The enemy have become desperate, sir. They will dare anything.
Sir Robert.
Next, that the dear and trusted person who recommended this young Swiss governess could have been so deceived in her character as not to know she could be capable of becoming a party to a piece of treacherous and criminal duplicity.
Sir Malcolm.
The girl's feelings may have been played upon. There is the young man Otto.
Sir Robert.
[Looking again at paper.] After all, apart from your personal identification, there is nothing to connect this lady with the group of enemy aliens in Soho Square?
Sir Malcolm.
Nothing ! I admit that, sir. And if the person who recommended the Swiss girl gave any description of her which answered to the description in your hand——
Sir Robert.
[With a start.] Ah! [He goes to desk, takes out the packet of letters seen in Prologue, reads a moment, then says in a changed voice.] Leave me for the present, Sir Malcolm. Come back in half an hour. If I have satisfied myself in the meantime that the young ​woman now in this house is the Swiss governess from Zurich I will return you your papers and ask you to consider the matter closed.
Sir Malcolm.
But if not?
Sir Robert.
Feel yourself at liberty to carry out your regulations.
Sir Malcolm.
Both in respect of this person, the girl Michel, and the whole group at Soho Square?
Sir Robert.
[Touching bell.] Certainly. [Galloway opens door. The Chief Commissioner bows himself out. Sir Robert takes up letters afresh and reads aloud.] " I am sure you will like her. She is a sweet, simple, sincere creature. Decidedly pretty, too, with her sea-blue eyes and golden hair." [Much agitated, he lays all the papers on desk and touches the bell again. Galloway returns.] Ask Miss Michel to come down to me immediately.
Galloway.
Yes, sir.
[Galloway goes out. There is a moment of silence. Sir Robert stands by desk looking fixedly before him. The upper door opens and Margaret Schiller enters. She is pale and nervous, but struggles to carry things off.
Margaret.
Were you asking for me, sir?
​Sir Robert.
Yes. Sorry to bring you down, but before you go to bed I find I must ask you a few questions.
Margaret. [Watchfully.] My headache has become worse, sir. Can the matter wait until morning?
Sir Robert.
I regret it cannot. But I shall make it as easy for you as possible, and perhaps in a few minutes you will be able to clear up my difficulty.
Margaret.
Difficulty?
Sir Robert.
Sit down, please. [She sits.] You may remember that when you arrived this afternoon a gentleman was with me. Did you know who he was?
Margaret.
I—I didn't look at him sir.
Sir Robert.
He was the Chief Commissioner of Metropolitan Police, and on going out he said he thought he had seen you before.
Margaret.
But that—that is quite impossible, sir.
Sir Robert.
Since you went upstairs he has been back, and made rather a serious accusation.
​Margaret.
Against me?
Sir Robert.
[Nodding.] He says you are not the person you represent yourself to be—Freda Michel, a Swiss girl from Zurich—but one Margaret Schiller, belonging to a family of enemy origin, living in Soho Square.
Margaret.
[Trembling, yet trying to laugh.] But doesn't—doesn't that strike you as a very ridiculous story, sir?
Sir Robert.
It does. I confess it does. But there are perplexing circumstances. Perhaps you can dissipate them.
Margaret.
My head is not very clear to-night, sir. The noise of the train——
Sir Robert.
[Having taken up the two telegrams.] You told me a while ago that you had never been in England before. That was true?
Margaret.
[Putting on bold front.] Quite true, sir.
Sir Robert. Have you any friends in London?
Margaret.
No, sir.
Sir Robert.
You don't know this Margaret Schiller?
​Margaret.
I don't, sir.
Sir Robert.
So it's not the fact that when you telegraphed to me from Dover you also telegraphed to her?
Margaret.
Of course not, sir.
Sir Robert.
Then how do you account for it that Margaret Schiller received a telegram signed with your name?
Margaret.
But she didn't.
Sir Robert.
[Sharply.] How do you know she didn't?
Margaret.
[Confused.] I mean she couldn't—she couldn't have received a telegram from me.
Sir Robert.
I said a telegram signed with your name—your Christian name, Freda.
Margaret.
[Recovering herself.] Freda is not an uncommon name, sir. Somebody else in the train named Freda may have sent the telegram.
Sir Robert.
That is possible. Yes, that is quite possible. I see that your telegram to me was sent off from the pier at Dover?
​Margaret.
Yes, sir.
Sir Robert.
At 2.20 P.M.?
Margaret.
I suppose that was the time, sir.
Sir Robert.
Did you dispatch it yourself from the telegraph office on the pier or give it to one of the boys on the platform?
Margaret.
I dispatched it myself, sir.
Sir Robert.
Do you remember if there was anybody else in the office at the time?
Margaret.
No, there was nobody else, sir.
Sir Robert.
Then how do you account for it that the telegram sent by the other Freda on the train—the telegram to Margaret Schiller—was handed in at the same moment?
Margaret.
[Hesitating, stammering.] Somebody must have come in immediately after me. . . . And now that I remember, while I was writing the telegram to you another lady did come in——
Sir Robert.
But didn't you say there was nobody else there?
​Margaret.
Oh, I don't know what I am saying. My head is so confused after this long journey——
Sir Robert.
[Rising.] My girl, take my advice—if you sent the telegram to Margaret Schiller, say so. There is nothing criminal in that nothing whatever.
Margaret.
[After a pause.} Sir Robert, I have not told you the truth. I do know Margaret Schiller. I met her at St. Moritz last winter. And when she returned to England I promised that if I ever came to London I would let her know. There's no harm in that, is there?
Sir Robert.
None at all. But why didn't you say so before?
Margaret.
Because the war has intervened, and as I was coming to your house I didn't think you would like me to have friends among enemy aliens. You can understand that, can't you?
Sir Robert.
Perfectly. So it was you who sent the telegram to Margaret Schiller?
Margaret.
Yes.
Sir Robert. [Quickly.] What did you say in it?
​Margaret.
[Gasping.] I—I hardly—something the same as I said in the telegram to you, sir—that I was arriving at Charing Cross by the train due at 4.
Sir Robert.
Anything else?
Margaret.
No—I—I can't remember.
Sir Robert.
Come, come, girl. If you sent this telegram only a few hours ago you must know what you said in it.
Margaret. We had a rough passage. I had been ill. I'm still suffering from the effects——
Sir Robert.
Let me help your memory then. Did you mention anybody's name in the telegram?
Margaret.
I—I really can't remember anything to-night. My headache is so bad.
Sir Robert.
Did you say "Tell Otto to meet me"?
Margaret.
[Clutching at it.] Why, yes, of course—Otto is my fiance. He was with his sister at St. Moritz. That's where we became engaged.
​Sir Robert.
Then why didn't you say that also?
Margaret.
Because I—I didn't think you would like your child's governess to be engaged to a person of enemy origin. You can understand that too, sir, can't you?
Sir Robert.
H'm! [His face is growing stern. He lays down telegrams and takes up copy of register.] So Otto Schiller was to meet you at Charing Cross?
Margaret.
Yes, and he did, sir.
Sir Robert.
Your train arrived at 4, but it must have been 5.30 before you reached this house. Where had you been in the meantime?
Margaret.
We took a taxi and went up to Soho Square, sir.
Sir Robert.
What happened there?
Margaret.
Oh, nothing—nothing particular. We had tea.
Sir Robert.
And then?
Margaret.
Then Otto called another taxi and I came here.
​Sir Robert.
Whom did you leave behind you at Soho Square?
Margaret.
The usual family, sir—Otto and his uncle and aunt, a cousin and a friend.
Sir Robert.
And——?
Margaret.
[Quickly.] Yes, of course—and Margaret Schiller.
Sir Robert.
What is this Margaret Schiller like to look upon?
Margaret. Oh, an ordinary sort of girl, I suppose.
Sir Robert.
Tall and dark and noticeable, isn't she?
Margaret.
[Half flattered.] Some people might think so.
Sir Robert.
Not exactly a beauty?
Margaret.
Perhaps not, sir.
Sir Robert.
But the kind of girl a man turns in the street to look after?
Margaret.
Depends on the man, sir.
​Sir Robert.
[Closer.] In short, rather like—you?
Margaret.
[Hesitating.] I dare say there are some who would say so.
Sir Robert.
So Freda Michel and Margaret Schiller bear a distinct resemblance to each other?
Margaret.
[Clutching at an idea.] Yes—now that I come to think of it—perhaps they do, sir.
Sir Robert.
So that if the Commissioner, seeing you, thought you were Margaret Schiller, that might account for it?
Margaret.
[Eagerly.] Yes, that's just what I was thinking, sir.
Sir Robert.
[Laying dozen paper and taking up letter.] But this is where my difficulty comes in. Although the description of Margaret Schiller is so true to you, you bear no resemblance to the description of Freda Michel.
Margaret.
[Rising, gasping] What description of Freda Michel?
Sir Robert.
[Motioning her to sit.] You have heard of my late wife, Lady Margaret Temple?
​Margaret.
Heard of her? Wasn't it she who first engaged me, sir?
Sir Robert.
She knew Freda Michel pretty well, then?
Margaret.
Naturally.
Sir Robert.
And equally naturally, in writing to her husband, she mentioned the young woman who was to be governess to her little girl. Shall I read what she says of her in one of them?
Margaret.
[Rising again, seeing herself utterly beaten.] No, I don't want to hear it. What does all this mean? I see how it is. You are trying to make out that I am somebody I am not. Out of the letters of a dead woman, too! It's false. I'm what I say I am. If you doubt it, send to Soho Square. You'll find Margaret Schiller there——
Sir Robert.
[In great wrath, face to face.] You lie! Margaret Schiller is here! You are Margaret Schiller.
[Dead silence for some moments. The girl looks into Sir Robert's face with the wild eyes of a captured animal. Then she puts on a defiant manner.
Margaret.
Very well, I admit it.
​Sir Robert.
[In towering wrath.] Admit it? Woman, do you know what you admit? That you are a spy—a low spy. You have taken advantage of an accidental circumstance to worm your way into a Minister's house, that by peeking and prying and poking your nose into every corner of his public life, you may betray the secrets of his Government to your miserable country, which condescends to any deceit and treachery, no matter how mean and despicable, to destroy the laws of God and man. [He strides across the room and returns.] But you are worse than a spy—you are a traitor. [She flinches.] A traitor who has preyed upon the ignorance, the weakness, perhaps the affection of that poor Swiss girl, until she has lent herself to this criminal exchange. [Again he crosses the room and returns.] Worse than that, you are a fiend. With hate in your heart against me, you have come here to poison the mind of my child against her father. [She looks round quickly.] Very well! Woman as you are, since you are so eager to do the devil's work, you shall take the devil's wages. [He touches a bell. Galloway enters.] Call up Sir Malcolm Clark. Ask him to come back immediately.
Galloway.
Yes, sir.
[Galloway goes out. Sir Robert sits by desk. Margaret stands.
Margaret.
[With bitter calmness.] You are quite right, sir, and quite wrong. I did take advantage of an ​accidental circumstance to worm my way into this house. I did prey upon the weakness and affection of that Swiss girl to lend herself to this exchange. I did come to peek and pry and poke my nose into every corner of your public and private life, so that I might betray you to my country. I did intend to make you suffer in the person of your child, not only by poisoning her mind against you, but perhaps by stealing her away from you altogether—
Sir Robert.
[Rising, threateningly.] What?
Margaret.
[Flaming up, wildly.] As you stole my father from me when you put him in prison and left him to die there.
Sir Robert.
[Sitting.] I'm not going to argue with you, my girl—to discuss the differences between law and crime. The Commissioner will be here presently, and the only question is what I am to do with you.
Margaret.
[Fiercely.] Do what you like with me.
Sir Robert.
I have only to say, "This woman is of enemy origin. She has come into my house in a false name and character——"
Margaret.
Say it, then—say it!
​Sir Robert.
You will be tried and punished.
Margaret.
Try me; punish me!
Sir Robert.
Your family and friends will be punished also.
Margaret.
[Alarmed.] What?
Sir Robert.
Every one of them.
Margaret.
But they've done nothing.
Sir Robert.
Nothing? The young woman who lent her name to this abominable trick? The young man who fetched the cab for you? The family who saw you off on your criminal errand? What Court in the world would believe such a story?
Margaret.
But it's true. This is all my own scheme. My people had notliing to do with it.
Sir Robert.
Tsch!
Margaret.
I give you my sacred word of honour sir——
​Sir Robert.
[With withering scorn.] Your word of honour!
Margaret.
[Catching her breath.] Listen to me, sir. I came here to do something criminal, and I've failed. Very well, let me suffer for it. But don't draw innocent people into the consequences of my conduct.
Sir Robert.
It's you that have drawn them into it. And now they must share your punishment.
Margaret.
You can't mean it. It would be too awful. I should die in agony—in torture.
Sir Robert.
You should have thought of that before, my girl.
Margaret.
There's Freda, she's as innocent of this as a babe unborn. She didn't want me to come here in her place, but I persuaded her. And then there's Otto. He's a dear, good boy, but he's hot and headstrong, and I've had to mother him since mother died. Freda and Otto expect to be married after this cruel war is over. You should see how happy they are. They are like children in their happiness. And if I had to think that I had been the means——
​Sir Robert.
[Rising and turning away.] Don't talk to me.
Margaret.
Listen again, sir. I've done no real harm here, and the worst you could do would be to charge me with espionage. But if it will save my people to accuse me of something else—something more serious, something they could be no parties to—I'll not defend myself. Your Courts shall do what they like with me—send me to the Tower if they please . . . execute me, shoot me . . .
Sir Robert.
It may be the Tower, in any case, my girl.
Margaret.
You mean for me?
Sir Robert.
For all of you.
Margaret.
[Gasping with horror.] Do you mean that—that their lives are in danger? [Sir Robert nods without speaking. Margaret gasps.] Oh! [After a breathless moment, panting.] Sir Robert Temple, you are great and powerful. I am only a woman—let me go.
Sir Robert.
Go, if you wish to. [With a little cry of joy she is making for the door, when he raises his hand.] But, if you are wise, you'll stay where you are—for the ​present. This house is the only safe place for you to-night. While you are here, you are Freda Michel. The moment you pass my door you are Margaret Schiller, who has been found out and is making a bolt for it.
Margaret.
[After another moment, breaking into wild laughter.] So that's how it is, is it? I'm a prisoner in a cell, unable to escape at either end of it. Very well, do what you like with me. Do what you like with all of us. It can't be worse than what you did with my father when you said in Parliament he had eaten your bread—your country's bread—and you thought you had bought his soul with it. My miserable country! What about yours—that robs children of their fathers, and leaves them to beggary, though they are as innocent as your own child in her cot upstairs. Yes, do what you like. It will only be a quicker death. You killed my father—kill his daughter also. Do you think I shall be afraid?
Sir Robert.
I am not called upon to defend myself against your accusations, my girl. But, since you speak of your father again, and may have acted from a personal rather than a quasi-patriotic impulse, would it surprise you to learn that I had nothing to do with your father's case except to save him from the gallows?
Margaret.
[With a gasp.] Eh?
​Sir Robert. [Going to bookcase, taking down book.] His name was Paul Schiller, wasn't it?
Margaret.
[With surly defiance.] You know it was.
Sir Robert.
[Finding reference.] Naturalized Englishman, medical doctor, acting as consul for the enemy Government, charged with helping by means of forged passports his compatriots of military age to escape to their own country.
Margaret.
That was a lie!
Sir Robert.
The case was taken in camera; this is the official report. [Reading.] "After the evidence for Crown, prisoner asked permission to amend his plea. Pleaded guilty. Said he had always, since naturalization, been a loyal subject of his adopted country, but the day after the declaration of war he had received from a secret source a command to assist reservists to cross the Channel. Had first refused, then been threatened with loss of consulate appointment after the war, together with ruin of professional practice. 'As these were my only means of livelihood,' said prisoner,' and I had two children dependent upon me (a son who was a medical student, requiring money for his fees, and a daughter to whom I was devotedly attached), I yielded, in a moment of weakness and temptation, to the merciless threats of the ​enemy Government. Therefore for the sake of my dear children, now totally unprovided for, I cast myself on the clemency of the court.' Verdict: Guilty. Sentence: Death. Afterwards commuted, on the recommendation of Sir Robert Temple, to three years' imprisonment."
[While Sir Robert has been reading, Margaret Schiller has been listening intently and going through an agony of astonishment and remorse. When he finishes she staggers forward and, after a great struggle, drops to her knees at his feet.
Margaret.
[In a torrent of emotion.] Let me stay here! Let me stay!
Sir Robert.
To the danger of my country, the peril of my child?
Margaret.
Oh, let me stay! Let me stay!
Sir Robert.
Margaret Schiller, who came to my house to betray me?
Margaret.
[Yet more passionately, rapidly, taking hold of his hand.] But I shall be Margaret Schiller no longer. The name and character I assumed when I came here shall be mine as long as I live. Only let me stay, and my people escape, and I shall never see them again. Your child, too, your dear, sweet child shall ​be as sacred to me as my heart's blood. And if ever a woman like me can do anything for a man like you——
[The voice of Galloway outside: "This way, Sir Malcolm."
Sir Robert.
Get up! He's here!
[Galloway enters by lower door.
Galloway. Sir Malcolm Clark, sir.
[Chief Commissioner enters. Sees Margaret rising hurriedly from her knees. She stands with head down, like a criminal awaiting her sentence.
Sir Malcolm. Are you quite satisfied, sir?
[There is a moment of breathless silence. Then Sir Robert takes up telegram and memorandum, looks at them, folds them, steps up to Chief Commissioner, and hands papers back.
Sir Robert.
Yes, I am quite satisfied—Good night, Sir Malcolm!
Sir Malcolm.
[Dumbfounded, dazed.] Good night, sir!
[Chief Commissioner bows himself out. The door is closed.
​Margaret.
[Lifting her face, now shining with joyful tears.] Then it's true? You are going to let me stay, and spare the lives of my dear ones? Oh, how good you are! You are not brutal and inhuman as I thought. No wonder your little daughter loves you—just as I loved my own father. You shall never regret this—never ! As God is my witness I'll keep my word to you——
Sir Robert.
[Going to her.] Then raise your hand, and take your oath on it. [She raises her hand.] On your oath, from this hour onward, whatever may occur, you will cut yourself off from your family and friends, and never see or hear from them again.
Margaret.
[With upraised hand, solemnly.] On my oath, from this hour onward, whatever may occur, I will cut myself off from my family and friends, and never see or hear from them again.
Sir Robert.
That will do. Now go to bed. [He opens upper door, R. She staggers up to it.] Pray for strength to keep your promise. And if ever your time of temptation should come, remember that not with bread, but with blood I have bought your soul.
[She stands for a moment as if struggling with a desire to kneel and kiss his hand. Then (as with the scorching memory of all that ​has happened) she covers her face and goes out with smothered sobs.
[Sir Robert closes door behind her and comes dowvn to telephone on desk.
Sir Robert.
[Into telephone.] Call up Sir Malcolm Clark. Tell him to come back again.
[There is the sound of a bugle and the roll of drums outside.
CURTAIN