plays [24]
that
for him.
LESLIE. 'Tis not sorrow that alters my complexion; I've
something else on hand. Come, I'll tell you, under seal. I've
not been in bed till daylight for a week.
LAWSON. Weel, there's nae sense in the like o' that.
LESLIE. Gad, but there is though. Why, Procurator, this is
town's business; this is a municipal affair; I'm a public
character. Why? Ah, here's a nut for the Crown Prosecutor! I'm
a bit of a party to a robbery.
LAWSON. Guid guide us, man, what d'ye mean?
LESLIE. You shall hear. A week ago to-night, I was passing
through this very room without a candle on my way to bed, when .
. . what should I see, but a masked man fumbling at that window!
How he did the Lord knows. I suspect, Procurator, it was not the
first he'd tried . . . for he opened it as handily as his own
front door.
LAWSON. Preserve me! Another of thae robberies!
LESLIE. That's it. And, of course, I tried to seize him. But
the rascal was too quick. He was down and away in an instant.
You never saw a thing so daring and adroit.
LAWSON. Is that a'? Ye're a bauld lad, I'll say that for ye.
I'm glad it wasna waur.
LESLIE. Yes, that's all plain sailing. But here's the hitch.
Why didn't I tell the Procurator-Fiscal? You never thought of
that.
LAWSON. No, man. Why?
LESLIE. Aha! There's the riddle. Will you guess? No? . . . I
thought I knew the man.
LAWSON. What d'ye say?
LESLIE. I thought I knew him.
LAWSON. Wha was't?
LESLIE. Ah, there you go beyond me. That I cannot tell.
LAWSON. As God sees ye, laddie, are ye speaking truth?
LESLIE. Well . . . of course!
LAWSON. The haill truth?
LESLIE. All of it. Why not?
LAWSON. Man, I'd a kind o' gliff.
LESLIE. Why, what were you afraid of? Had you a suspicion?
LAWSON. Me? Me a suspicion? Ye're daft, sir; and me the Crown
offeecial! . . . Eh man, I'm a' shakin' ... And sae ye thocht ye
kennt him?
LESLIE. I did that. And what's more, I've sat every night in
case of his return. I promise you, Procurator, he shall not slip
me twice. Meanwhile I'm worried and put out. You understand how
such a fancy will upset a man. I'm uneasy with my friends and on
bad terms with my own conscience. I keep watching, spying,
comparing, putting two and two together, hunting for resemblances
until my head goes round. It's like a puzzle in a dream. Only
yesterday I thought I had him. And who d'you think it was?
LAWSON. Wha? Wha was't? Speak, Mr. Leslie, speak. I'm an auld
man; dinna forget that.
LESLIE. I name no names. It would be unjust to him; and, upon
my word, it was so silly it would be unfair to me. However, here
I sit, night after night. I mean him to come back; come back he
shall; and I'll tell you who he was next morning.
LAWSON. Let sleeping dogs lie, Mr. Leslie; ye dinna ken what ye
micht see. And then, leave him alane, he'll come nae mair. And
sitting up a' nicht . . . it's a FACTUM IMPRESTABILE, as we say:
a thing impossible to man. Gang ye to your bed, like a guid
laddie, and sleep lang and soundly, and bonnie, bonnie dreams to
ye! (WITHOUT.) Let sleeping dogs lie, and gang ye to your bed.
SCENE III
LESLIE
LESLIE (CALLING). In good time, never fear! (HE CAREFULLY BOLTS
AND CHAINS THE DOOR.) The old gentleman seems upset. What for,
I wonder? Has he had a masked visitor? Why not? It's the
fashion. Out with the lights. (BLOWS OUT THE CANDLES. THE
STAGE IS ONLY LIGHTED BY THE MOON THROUGH THE WINDOW.) He is
sure to come one night or other. He must come. Right or wrong,
I feel it in the air. Man, but I know you, I know you somewhere.
That trick of the shoulders, the hang of the clothes - whose are
they? Where have I seen them? And then, that single look of the
eye, that one glance about the room as the window opened . . . it
is almost friendly; I have caught it over the glass's rim! If it
should be . . . his? No, his it is not.
WATCHMAN (WITHOUT). Past ten o'clock, and a fine moonlight
for him.
LESLIE. 'Tis not sorrow that alters my complexion; I've
something else on hand. Come, I'll tell you, under seal. I've
not been in bed till daylight for a week.
LAWSON. Weel, there's nae sense in the like o' that.
LESLIE. Gad, but there is though. Why, Procurator, this is
town's business; this is a municipal affair; I'm a public
character. Why? Ah, here's a nut for the Crown Prosecutor! I'm
a bit of a party to a robbery.
LAWSON. Guid guide us, man, what d'ye mean?
LESLIE. You shall hear. A week ago to-night, I was passing
through this very room without a candle on my way to bed, when .
. . what should I see, but a masked man fumbling at that window!
How he did the Lord knows. I suspect, Procurator, it was not the
first he'd tried . . . for he opened it as handily as his own
front door.
LAWSON. Preserve me! Another of thae robberies!
LESLIE. That's it. And, of course, I tried to seize him. But
the rascal was too quick. He was down and away in an instant.
You never saw a thing so daring and adroit.
LAWSON. Is that a'? Ye're a bauld lad, I'll say that for ye.
I'm glad it wasna waur.
LESLIE. Yes, that's all plain sailing. But here's the hitch.
Why didn't I tell the Procurator-Fiscal? You never thought of
that.
LAWSON. No, man. Why?
LESLIE. Aha! There's the riddle. Will you guess? No? . . . I
thought I knew the man.
LAWSON. What d'ye say?
LESLIE. I thought I knew him.
LAWSON. Wha was't?
LESLIE. Ah, there you go beyond me. That I cannot tell.
LAWSON. As God sees ye, laddie, are ye speaking truth?
LESLIE. Well . . . of course!
LAWSON. The haill truth?
LESLIE. All of it. Why not?
LAWSON. Man, I'd a kind o' gliff.
LESLIE. Why, what were you afraid of? Had you a suspicion?
LAWSON. Me? Me a suspicion? Ye're daft, sir; and me the Crown
offeecial! . . . Eh man, I'm a' shakin' ... And sae ye thocht ye
kennt him?
LESLIE. I did that. And what's more, I've sat every night in
case of his return. I promise you, Procurator, he shall not slip
me twice. Meanwhile I'm worried and put out. You understand how
such a fancy will upset a man. I'm uneasy with my friends and on
bad terms with my own conscience. I keep watching, spying,
comparing, putting two and two together, hunting for resemblances
until my head goes round. It's like a puzzle in a dream. Only
yesterday I thought I had him. And who d'you think it was?
LAWSON. Wha? Wha was't? Speak, Mr. Leslie, speak. I'm an auld
man; dinna forget that.
LESLIE. I name no names. It would be unjust to him; and, upon
my word, it was so silly it would be unfair to me. However, here
I sit, night after night. I mean him to come back; come back he
shall; and I'll tell you who he was next morning.
LAWSON. Let sleeping dogs lie, Mr. Leslie; ye dinna ken what ye
micht see. And then, leave him alane, he'll come nae mair. And
sitting up a' nicht . . . it's a FACTUM IMPRESTABILE, as we say:
a thing impossible to man. Gang ye to your bed, like a guid
laddie, and sleep lang and soundly, and bonnie, bonnie dreams to
ye! (WITHOUT.) Let sleeping dogs lie, and gang ye to your bed.
SCENE III
LESLIE
LESLIE (CALLING). In good time, never fear! (HE CAREFULLY BOLTS
AND CHAINS THE DOOR.) The old gentleman seems upset. What for,
I wonder? Has he had a masked visitor? Why not? It's the
fashion. Out with the lights. (BLOWS OUT THE CANDLES. THE
STAGE IS ONLY LIGHTED BY THE MOON THROUGH THE WINDOW.) He is
sure to come one night or other. He must come. Right or wrong,
I feel it in the air. Man, but I know you, I know you somewhere.
That trick of the shoulders, the hang of the clothes - whose are
they? Where have I seen them? And then, that single look of the
eye, that one glance about the room as the window opened . . . it
is almost friendly; I have caught it over the glass's rim! If it
should be . . . his? No, his it is not.
WATCHMAN (WITHOUT). Past ten o'clock, and a fine moonlight