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DRAMATIS PERSONAE
JOHN BEAL
MARY BEAL
LIZA
ALI
BERT, BILL: two railway porters
THE MAN IN THE CORNER
MIRALDA CLEMENT
HAFIZ EL ALCOLAHN
DAOUD
ARCHIE BEAL
BAZZALOL, THOOTHOOBABA: two Nubian door-keepers
BEN HUSSEIN, Lord of the Pass
ZABNOOL, SHABEESH: two conjurers
OMAR, a singer
ZAGBOOLA, mother of Hafiz
THE SHEIK OF THE BISHAREENS
Notables, soldiers, Bishareens, dancers, etc.
ACT I
SCENE I
A small railway station near London.
Time: Ten years ago.
- BERT
-
'Ow goes it, Bill?
- BILL
-
Goes it? 'Ow d'yer think it goes?
- BERT
-
I don't know, Bill. 'Ow is it?
- BILL
-
Bloody.
- BERT
-
Why? What's wrong?
- BILL
-
Wrong? Nothing ain't wrong.
- BERT
-
What's up then?
- BILL
-
Nothing ain't right.
- BERT
-
Why, wot's the worry?
- BILL
-
Wot's the worry? They don't give you
better wages nor a dog, and then they thinks
they can talk at yer and talk at yer, and say
wot they likes, like.
- BERT
-
Why? You been on the carpet, Bill?
- BILL
-
Ain't I! Proper.
- BERT
-
Why, wot about, Bill?
- BILL
-
Wot about? I'll tell yer. Just coz I let
a lidy get into a train. That's wot about.
Said I ought to 'av stopped 'er. Thought the
train was moving. Thought it was dangerous.
Thought I tried to murder 'er, I suppose.
- BERT
-
Wot? The other day?
- BILL
-
Yes.
- BERT
-
Tuesday?
- BILL
-
Yes.
- BERT
-
Why. The one that dropped her bag?
- BILL
Yes. Drops 'er bag. Writes to the com-
pany. They writes back she shouldn't 'av
got in. She writes back she should. Then
they gets on to me. Any more of it and
I'll...
- BERT
-
I wouldn't, Bill; don't you.
- BILL
-
I will.
- BERT
-
Don't you, Bill. You've got your family
to consider.
- BILL
Well, anyway, I won't let any more of
them passengers go jumping into trains any
more, not when they're moving, I won't.
When the train gets in, doors shut. That's
the rule. And they'll 'ave to abide by it.
- BERT
-
Well, I wouldn't stop one, not if...
- BILL
I don't care. They ain't going to 'ave me
on the mat again and talk all that stuff to
me. No, if someone 'as to suffer . . .
'Ere she is. -
[Noise of approaching train heard.]
- BERT
-
Ay, that's her.
- BILL
-
And shut goes the door.
-
[Enter JOHN BEAL.]
- BERT
-
Wait a moment, Bill.
- BILL
-
Not if he's . . . Not if he was ever so.
- JOHN
-
[preparing to pass]
-
Good morning. . . .
- BILL
-
Can't come through. Too late.
- JOHN
-
Too late? Why, the train's only just in.
- BILL
-
Don't care. It's the rule.
- JOHN
-
0, nonsense.
- [He carries on.]
- BILL
-
It's too late. I tell you you can't come.
- JOHN
-
But that's absurd. I want to catch my
train.
- BILL
-
It's too late.
- BERT
-
Let him go, Bill.
- BILL
-
I'm blowed if I let him go.
- JOHN
-
I want to catch my train.
[JOHN is stopped by BILL and pushed
back by the face. JOHN advances towards
BILL looking like fighting. The train has
gone.]
- BILL
-
Only doing my duty.
-
[JOHN stops and reflects at this, deciding
it isn't good enough. He shrugs his
shoulders, turns round and goes away.]
- JOHN
-
I shouldn't be surprised if I didn't get even
with you one of these days, you . . . . . and
some way you won't expect.
Curtain
SCENE 2
Yesterday evening.
[Curtain rises on JOHN and MARY in
their suburban home.]
- JOHN
I say, dear. Don't you think we ought to
plant an acacia?
- MARY
-
An acacia, what's that, John?
- JOHN
-
O, it's one of those trees that they have.
- MARY
-
But why, John?
- JOHN
Well, you see the house is called The Aca-
cias, and it seems rather silly not to have at
least one.
- MARY
O, I don't think that matters. Lots of
places are called lots of things. Everyone
does.
- JOHN
-
Yes, but it might help the postman.
- MARY
-
O, no, it wouldn't, dear. He wouldn't
know an acacia if he saw it any more than I
should.
- JOHN
-
Quite right, Mary, you're always right.
What a clever head you've got!
- MARY
Have I, John? We'll plant an acacia if
you like. 1'11 ask about it at the grocer's.
- JOHN
-
You can't get one there.
- MARY
-
No, but he's sure to know where it can be
got.
- JOHN
-
Where do they grow, Mary?
- MARY
-
I don't know, John; but I am sure they do,
somewhere.
- JOHN
-
Somehow I wish sometimes, I almost wish
I could have gone abroad for a week or so to
places like where acacias grow naturally.
- MARY
-
0, would you really, John?
- JOHN
-
No, not really. But I just think of it
sometimes.
- MARY
-
Where would you have gone?
- JOHN
-
0, I don't know. The East or some such
place. I've often heard people speak of it,
and somehow it seemed so. . .
- MARY
The East, John? Not the East. I don't
think the East somehow is quite respectable.
- JOHN
-
O well, it's all right, I never went, and
never shall go now. It doesn't matter.
- MARY
-
[the photographs catching her eye]
O, John, I meant to tell you. Such a dread-
ful thing happened.
- JOHN
-
What, Mary?
- MARY
-
Well, Liza was dusting the photographs,
and when she came to Jane's she says she
hadn't really begun to dust it, only looked at
it, and it fell down, and that bit of glass is
broken right out of it.
- JOHN
Ask her not to look at it so hard another
time.
- MARY
-
0, what do you mean, John?
- JOHN
-
Well, that's how she broke it; she said so,
and as I know you believe in Liza . . .
- MARY
-
Well, I can't think she'd tell a lie, John.
- JOHN
-
No, of course not. But she mustn't look
so hard another time.
- MARY
-
And it's poor little Jane's photograph.
She will feel it so.
- JOHN
-
0, that's all right, we'll get it mended.
- MARY
-
Still, it's a dreadful thing to have happened.
- JOHN
We'll get it mended, and if Jane is unhappy
about it she can have Alice's frame. Alice
is too young to notice it.
- MARY
-
She isn't, John. She'd notice it quick.
-
Well, George, then.
- JOHN
-
- MARY
-
[looking at photo thoughtfully]
-
Well, perhaps George might give up his
frame.
- JOHN
-
Yes, tell Liza to change it. Why not make
her do it now?
- MARY
Not to-day, John. Not on a Sunday.
She shall do it to-morrow by the time you get
back from the office.
- JOHN
-
All right. It might have been worse.
- MARY
-
It's bad enough. I wish it hadn't happened.
- JOHN
It might have been worse. It might have
been Aunt Martha.
- MARY
-
I'd sooner it had been her than poor little
Jane.
- JOHN
If it had been Aunt Martha's photograph
she'd have walked in next day and seen it for
certain; I know Aunt Martha. Then there'd
have been trouble.
- MARY
-
But, John, how could she have known?
- JOHN
I don't know, but she would have; it's a
kind of devilish sense she has.
- MARY
-
John!
- JOHN
-
What's the matter?
- MARY
-
John! What a dreadful word you used.
And on a Sunday too! Really!
- JOHN
0, I'm sorry. It slipped out somehow.
I'm very sorry.
-
[Enter LIZA.]
- LIZA
-
There's a gentleman to see you, sir, which
isn't, properly speaking, a gentleman at all.
Not what I should call one, that is, like.
- MARY
-
Not a gentleman! Good gracious, Liza!
Whatever do you mean?
- LIZA
-
He's black.
- MARY
-
Black?
- JOHN
-
[reassuring]
-
O . . . yes, that would be Ali. A queer
old customer, Mary; perfectly harmless. Our
firm gets hundreds of carpets through him;
and then one day . . .
- MARY
-
But what is he doing here, John?
- JOHN
-
Well, one day he turned up in London;
broke, he said; and wanted the firm to give
him a little cash. Well, old Briggs was for
giving him ten shillings. But I said "here's
a man that's helped us in making thousands
of pounds. Let's give him fifty."
- MARY
-
Fifty pounds!
- JOHN
Yes, it seems a lot; but it seemed only fair.
Ten shillings would have been an insult to
the old fellow, and he'd have taken it as such.
You don't know what he'd have done.
- MARY
-
Well, he doesn't want more?
- TOHN
No, I expect he's come to thank me. He
seemed pretty keen on getting some cash.
Badly broke, you see. Don't know what he was
doing in London. Never can tell with these
fellows. East is East, and there's an end of it.
- MARY
-
How did he trace you here?
- JOHN
-
0, got the address at the office. Briggs
and Cater won't let theirs be known. Not
got such a smart little house, I expect.
- MARY
I don't like letting people in that you don't
know where they come from.
- JOHN
-
0, he comes from the East.
- MARY
Yes, I--I know. But the East doesn't seem
quite to count, somehow, as the proper sort of
place to come from, does it, dear?
- JOHN
-
No.
- MARY
-
It's not like Sydenham or Bromley, some
place you can put your finger on.
- JOHN
-
Perhaps just for once, I don't think there's
any harm in him.
- MARY
-
Well, just for once. But we can't make a
practice of it. And you don't want to be
thinking of business on a Sunday, your only
day off.
- JOHN
-
0, it isn't business, you know. He only
wants to say thank you.
- MARY
-
I hope he won't say it in some queer
Eastern way. You don't know what these
people. . .
- JOHN
-
0, no. Show him up, Liza.
- LIZA
-
As you like, mum.
-
[Exit.]
- MARY
-
And you gave him fifty pounds?
- JOHN
-
Well, old Briggs agreed to it. So I suppose
that's what he got. Cater paid him.
- MARY
-
It seems a lot of money. But I think, as
the man is actually coming up the stairs,
I'm glad he's got something to be grateful
for. -
[Enter ALI, shown in by LIZA.]
- ALI
-
Protector of the Just.
- JOHN
-
0, er--yes. Good evening.
- ALI
-
My soul was parched and you bathed it
in rivers of gold.
- JOHN
-
O, ah, yes.
- ALI
Wherefore the name Briggs, Cater, and Beal
shall be magnified and called blessed.
- JOHN
-
Ha, yes. Very good of you.
- ALI
-
[advancing, handing trinket]
-
Protector of the Just, my offering.
- JOHN
-
Your offering?
- ALI
Hush. It is beyond price. I am not
bidden to sell it. I was in my extremity, but
I was not bidden to sell it. It is a token of
gratitude, a gift, as it came to me.
- JOHN
-
AS it came to you?
- ALI
-
Yes, it was given me.
- JOHN
I see. Then you had given somebody what
you call rivers of gold?
- ALI
-
Not gold; it was in Sahara.
- JOHN
0, and what do you give in the Sahara
instead of gold?
- ALI
-
Water.
- JOHN
-
I see. You got it for a glass of water, like.
- ALI
-
Even so.
- JOHN
-
And--and what happened?
- MARY
I wouldn't take his only crystal, dear.
It's a nice little thing, but [to ALI], but you
think a lot of it, don't you?
- ALI
-
Even so.
- JOHN
-
But look here, what does it do?
- ALI
-
Much.
- JOHN
-
Well, what?
- ALI
He that taketh this crystal, so, in his hand,
at night, and wishes, saying "At a certain
hour let it be"; the hour comes and he will
go back eight, ten, even twelve years if he
will, into the past, and do a thing again, or
act otherwise than he did. The day passes;
the ten years are accomplished once again; he
is here once more; but he is what he might
have become had he done that one thing
otherwise.
- MARY
-
John!
- JOHN
-
I--I don't understand.
- ALI
To-night you wish. All to-morrow you
live the last ten years; a new way, master, a
new way, how you please. To-morrow night
you are here, what those years have made you.
- JOHN
-
By Jove!
- MARY
-
Have nothing to do with it, John.
- JOHN
-
All right, Mary, I'm not going to. But,
do you mean one could go back ten years?
- ALI
-
Even so.
- JOHN
Well, it seems odd, but I'll take your word
for it. But look here, you can't live ten years
in a day, you know.
- ALI
-
My master has power over time.
- MARY
-
John, don't have anything to do with him.
- JOHN
-
All right, Mary. But who is your master?
- ALI
He is carved of one piece of jade, a god in
the greenest mountains. The years are his
dreams. This crystal is his treasure. Guard
it safely, for his power is in this more than
in all the peaks of his native hills. See what
I give you, master.
- JOHN
-
Well, really, it's very good of you.
- MARY
Good night, Mr. Ali. We are very much
obliged for your kind offer, which we are so
sorry we can't avail ourselves of.
- JOHN
One moment, Mary. Do you mean that
I can go back ten years, and live till--till now
again, and only be away a day?
- ALI
-
Start early and you will be here before
midnight.
- JOHN
-
Would eight o'clock do!
- ALI
-
You could be back by eleven that evening.
- JOHN
I don't quite see how ten years could go
in a single day.
- ALI
-
They will go as dreams go.
- JOHN
-
Even so, it seems rather unusual, doesn't
it?
- ALI
-
Time is the slave of my master
- MARY
-
John!
- JOHN
-
All right, Mary.
-
[In a lower voice.]
-
I'm only trying to see what he'll say.
- MARY
-
All right, John, only . . .
- ALI
-
Is there no step that you would wish un-
trodden, nor stride that you would make
where once you faltered?
- JOHN
-
I say, why don't you use it yourself?
- ALI
I? I am afraid of the past. But you
Engleesh, and the great firm of Briggs, Cater,
and Beal; you are afraid of nothing.
- JOHN
-
Ha, ha. Well--I wouldn't go quite as far
as that, but--well, give me the crystal.
- MARY
-
Don't take it, John! Don't take it.
- JOHN
-
Why, Mary? It won't hurt me.
- MARY
-
If it can do all that--if it can do all that . . .
- JOHN
-
Well?
- MARY
-
Why, you might never have met me.
- JOHN
-
Never have met you? I never thought of
that.
- MARY
-
Leave the past alone, John.
- JOHN
-
All right, Mary. I needn't use it. But I
want to hear about it, it's so odd, it's so
what-you-might-call queer; I don't think I
ever----- -
[To ALI.]
You mean if I work
hard for ten years, which will only be all
to-morrow, I may be Governor of the Bank
of England to-morrow night.
- ALI
-
Even so.
- MARY
-
0, don't do it, John.
- JOHN
-
But you said--I'll be back here before
midnight to-morrow.
- ALI
-
It is so.
- JOHN
-
But the Governor of the Bank of England
would live in the City, and he'd have a much
bigger house anyway. He wouldn't live in
Lewisham.
- ALI
The crystal will bring you to this house
when the hour is accomplished, even to-
morrow night. If you be the great banker
you will perhaps come to chastise one of your
slaves who will dwell in this house. If you
be head of Briggs and Cater you will come to
give an edict to one of your firm. Perchance
this street will be yours and you will come to
show your power unto it. But you will come.
- JOHN
-
And if the house is not mine?
- MARY
-
John! John! Don't.
- ALI
-
Still you will come.
- JOHN
-
Shall I remember?
- ALI
-
No.
- JOHN
If I want to do anything different to what
I did, how shall I remember when I get back
there?
- MARY
-
Don't. Don't do anything different, John.
- JOHN
-
All right.
- ALI
-
Choose just before the hour of the step
you desire to change. Memory lingers a little
at first, and fades away slowly.
- JOHN
-
Five minutes?
- ALI
-
Even ten.
- JOHN
Then I can change one thing. After that I
forget.
- ALI
-
Even so. One thing. And the rest follows.
- JOHN
-
Well, it's very good of you to make me this
nice present, I'm sure.
- ALI
-
Sell it not. Give it, as I gave it, if the heart
impels. So shall it come back one day to the
hills that are brighter than grass, made richer
by the gratitude of many men. And my
master shall smile thereat and the vale shall
be glad.
- JOHN
-
It's very good of you, I'm sure.
- MARY
I don't like it, John. I don't like tampering
with what's gone.
- ALI
-
My master's power is in your hands.
Farewell. -
[Exit.]
- JOHN
-
I say, he's gone.
- MARY
-
O, he's a dreadful man.
- JOHN
-
I never really meant to take it.
- MARY
-
0, John, I wish you hadn't
- JOHN
-
Why? I'm not going to use it.
- MARY
-
Not going to use it, John?
- JOHN
-
No, no. Not if you don't want me to.
- MARY
-
O, I'm so glad.
- JOHN
And besides, I don't want things different.
I've got fond of this little house. And Briggs
is a good old sort, you know. Cater's a bit
of an ass, but there's no harm in him. In
fact, I'm contented, Mary. I wouldn't even
change Aunt Martha now.
[Points at frowning framed photograph
centrally hung.]
You remember when she first came and
you said "Where shall we hang her?" I said
the cellar. You said we couldn't. So she had
to go there. But I wouldn't change her now.
I suppose there are old watch-dogs like her in
every family. I wouldn't change anything.
- MARY
-
0, John, wouldn't you really?
- JOHN
-
No, I'm contented. Grim old soul, I
wouldn't even change Aunt Martha.
- MARY
-
I'm glad of that, John. I was frightened.
I couldn't bear to tamper with the past.
You don't know what it is, it's what's gone.
But if it really isn't gone at all, if it can be dug
up like that, why you don't know what
mightn't happen! I don't mind the future,
but if the past can come back like that....
O, don't, don't, John. Don't think of it.
It isn't canny. There's the children, John.
- JOHN
-
Yes, yes, that's all right. It's only a little
ornament. I won't use it. And I tell you
I'm content. -
[Happily]
-
It's no use to me.
- MARY
-
I'm so glad you're content, John. Are you
really? Is there nothing that you'd have had
different? I sometimes thought you'd rather
that Jane had been a boy.
- JOHN
-
Not a bit of it. Well, I may have at the
time, but Arthur's good enough for me.
- MARY
I'm so glad. And there's nothing you ever
regret at all?
- JOHN
Nothing. And you? Is there nothing you
regret, Mary?
- MARY
Me? Oh, no. I still think that sofa would
have been better green, but you would have
it red.
- JOHN
-
Yes, so I would. No, there's nothing I
regret.
- MARY
-
I don't suppose there's many men can say
that.
- JOHN
-
No, I don't suppose they can. They're
not all married to you. I don't suppose
many of them can.
-
[MARY smiles.]
- MARY
I should think that very few could say
that they regretted nothing . . . very few
in the whole world.
- JOHN
-
Well, I won't say nothing.
- MARY
-
What is it you regret, John?
- JOHN
-
Well, there is one thing.
- MARY
-
And what is that?
- JOHN
-
One thing has rankled a bit.
- MARY
-
Yes, John?
- JOHN
O, it's nothing, it's nothing worth mention-
ing. But it rankled for years.
- MARY
-
What was it, John?
- JOHN
O, it seems silly to mention it. It was
nothing.
- MARY
-
But what?
- JOHN
O, well, if you want to know, it was once
when I missed a train. I don't mind missing
a train, but it was the way the porter pushed
me out of the way. He pushed me by the
face. I couldn't hit back, because, well, you
know what lawyers make of it; I might have
been ruined. So it just rankled. It was years
ago before we married.
- MARY
-
Pushed you by the face. Good gracious!
- JOHN
-
Yes, I'd like to have caught that train in
spite of him. I sometimes think of it still.
Silly of me, isn't it?
- MARY
-
What a brute of a man.
- JOHN
0, I suppose he was doing his silly duty.
But it rankled.
- MARY
-
He'd no right to do any such thing! He'd
no right to touch you!
- JOHN
-
0, well, never mind.
- MARY
-
I should like to have been there. . .
-
I'd have . . .
- JOHN
0, well, it can't be helped now; but I'd
like to have caught it in sp . . .
- [An idea seizes him.]
- MARY
-
What is it?
- JOHN
Can't be helped, I said. It's the very thing
that can be helped.
- MARY
-
Can be helped, John? Whatever do you
mean?
- JOHN
-
I mean he'd no right to stop me catching
that train. I've got the crystal, and I'll
catch it yet!
- MARY
0, John, that's what you said you wouldn't
do.
- JOHN
-
No. I said I'd do nothing to alter the past.
And I won't. I'm too content, Mary. But
this can't alter it. This is nothing.
- MARY
-
What were you going to catch the train
for, John?
- JOHN
-
For London. I wasn't at the office then.
It was a business appointment. There was a
man who had promised to get me a job, and
I was going up to . . .
- MARY
-
John, it may alter your whole life!
- JOHN
Now do listen, Mary, do listen. He never
turned up. I got a letter from him apologis-
ing to me before I posted mine to him. It
turned out he never meant to help me, mere
meaningless affabilities. He never came to
London that day at all. I should have taken
the next train back. That can't affect the
future.
- MARY
-
N-no, John. Still, I don't like it.
- JOHN
-
What difference could it make?
- MARY
-
N-n-no.
- JOHN
Think how we met. We met at ARCHIE's
wedding. I take it one has to go to one's
brother's wedding. It would take a pretty
big change to alter that. And. you were her
bridesmaid. We were bound to meet. And
having once met, well, there you are. If we'd
met by chance, in a train, or anything like
that, well, then I admit some little change
might alter it. But when wee met at ARCHIE's
wedding and you were her bridesmaid, why,
Mary, it's a cert. Besides, I believe in pre-
destination. It was our fate; we couldn't
have missed it.
- MARY
-
No, I suppose not; still . .
- JOHN
-
Well, what?
- MARY
-
I don't like it.
- JOHN
-
0, Mary, I have so longed to catch that
infernal train. Just think of it, annoyed on
and off for ten years by the eight-fifteen.
- MARY
-
I'd rather you didn't, John.
- JOHN
-
But why?
- MARY
-
O, John, suppose there's a railway acci-
dent? You might be killed, and we should
never meet.
- JOHN
-
There wasn't.
- MARY
-
There wasn't, John? What do you mean?
- JOHN
-
There wasn't an accident to the eight-fif-
teen. It got safely to London just ten years ago.
- MARY
-
Why, nor there was.
- JOHN
You see how groundless your fears are.
I shall catch that train, and all the rest will
happen the same as before. Just think
Mary, all those old days again. I wish I
could take you with me. But you soon will
be. But just think of the old days coming
back again. Hampton Court again and Kew,
and Richmond Park again with all the May.
And that bun you bought, and the corked
ginger-beer, and those birds singing and the
'bus past Isleworth. O, Mary, you wouldn't
grudge me that?
- MARY
-
Well, well then all right, John.
- JOHN
-
And you will remember there wasn't an
accident, won't you?
- MARY
- [resignedly, sadly]
O, yes, John. And you won't try to get
rich or do anything silly, will you?
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