THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES HALL CAINE The Prime Minister A DRAMA Price 1 / 6 NET 33 06 8 LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN V V ^ .^ X J THE PRBIE MINISTER THE object of this play is to present (I //icftire in little of the evil ivhich lies at the heart of the ivorld-ivar, l)jl shoxving the clash of ideals in the warring nations. On the one side, a race which has, for thirti/ years, been taught in its schools to set up its State as an idol to be worshipped, and noio sincerely believes and shame- lessly declares, that it is justified in connnitting any crime that xvill add to its power and temporal glory. On the other side, a group of races zvhich, incapable of realising the peril of this moral lunacy, have been struggling to hold on to their faith in the veracities, in abstract justice, and in human brotherhood. THE PRIME MINISTER By the same Author The Woman Thou Gavest Me The White Prophet The Prodigal Son The Eternal City The Christian The Manxman The Scapegoat The Bondman The Dee-mster The Shadow of a Crime My Story {Autobiographical) The Drama of 365 Days The Prime Minister A DRAMA By hall CAINE LONDON; WILLIAM HEINEMANN COPYRIGHT IN GREAT BRITAIN, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA ETC. Acting rights reserved 411 I. 1 - * ft. • 1 TO THE PRESENT PRIME MINISTER WHO HAS NOTHING IN COMMON WITH HIS IMAGINARY COUNTERPART EXCEPT LOVE OF HIS COUNTRY AND HATRED OF HER ENEMIES ■) H. C. ^398108 "Children of my Guard, you are now my soldiers — m,ine, body and soul ! You have sworn to obey all my commands. From this day on, you must know but one enemy, and that enemy is my enemy. " And if I command you some day to fire upon your own relatives — your fathers and mothers, sisters and broi.hers •perhaps — remember your oath and obey!" — The Kaiser's speech to his Polsd/tm recruits. AUTHOR'S NOTE In the winter of 1910 or 1911 I was staying, for the silence and sohtude which seemed necessary to certain literary work I had to do, at an old manor house turned into a private hotel in Sils Beseglia, near Sils Maria, a little village in the Engadine, lying midway on the mountain road between St. Moritz and Maloja, at the foot of a glacier and in the midst of the deep snows. My few housemates were all Germans, being chiefly muscular and adventurous German women, who spent most of their time ski-ing along the neigh- bouring slopes in not altogether becoming male costume. One afternoon I heard from my sitting- room the tinkle of manj-- sleigh-bells, and looking out I saw, in the glistening Engadine sunshine, some three or four sleighs rolling up the deep snow-ruts to the half-buried gate of the house. They contained a group of illustrious personages, with several of whom I had such slight acquaintance as one usually acquires (whatever different world one comes out of) in the course of long sojourns at small hotels in remote places. As far as I can remember, there were, among others, the Princess Stephanie of Belgium ; her second husband, the Hungarian nobleman whom she married after the death of her first husband, the Crown vii viii THE PRIME MINISTER Prince of Austria ; the Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife ; a little Austrian baroness who was lady-in-waiting, and (I think, but am not sure) one of the younger sons of the Kaiser, whom I had frequently seen in the same company. They had sleighed over from St. Moritz and were to go back after tea. Knowing I was staying in the house the Princess kindly sent up to ask me to join her party, and going downstairs I found the rather large company in the timbered hall by the side of a crackling wood fire, seated in the manner of country folk about a big pine tea-table. My recollections of that tea-party centre in the impression left on my dramatic sense by the contrast and, as subsequent events show, the conflict of family relations and dynastic interests. There was the Archduke, a stiff-set, stolid, gloomy, not very inspiring person, commonly understood to be intensely hostile to England and France, and closely bound to Germany and the person of the Kaiser. And there was the brighter and more expansive Belgian Princess, daughter of the late King and cousin of the present one. If the war came which was even then, threatening (it was mentioned that afternoon, I remember, that Austria had eight hun- dred thousand men under arms) and Germany carried out the intention that was being openly avowed by her military writers, of marching over Belgium to get at France, what would happen to the members of that family group ? How would they stand to each other in the tragic developments of the plots and counterplots that are the chief industries of what Mr. Gerard calls " the King business." In particular, how would the daughter of Belgium stand AUTHOR'S NOTE ix to the Archduke if he became Emperor of Austria (as it seemed he might at any moment) and carried out with the Kaiser the schemes with which he was credited by whispered rumour and report ? They were apparently united and harmonious now, laughing and chatting and calling each other by their Christian names and diminutives, but it needed no special development of the dramatic sense to hear under the crackle of cup and saucer the murmur of the voiceless millions of Europe, whose lives lay so lightly in the hands of this little party taking tea together in the snow-covered house among the mountains. Next morning I awoke early with the drama of that tea-party strongly on my mind, but, by a process which imaginative writers will recognize as not un- familiar, the scenes and characters had undergone important changes during the hours of sleep. The Archduke had become the Prime Minister of England ; his palace at Konopisht had become No. 10 Downing Street ; the daughter of King Leopold had become the daughter of a German doctor practising in Soho, and the long-expected war had begun. My imaginary German girl, inspired by racial hatred, and smarting under a deep sense of personal injury,, had found a way, under a false name and character, of entering the house of the Prime Minister in order to destroy him, and through him, his country. But being in that house, she could not get out of it. Fate had laid its hand upon her. She had fallen into her own trap. Her hate of hates had gone down before the stirrings of another (and apparently unrequitable) passion. And after her soul had become denationalized, and she had rightly convinced herself that, like some of the highest ladies of the land, she was a true and loyal X THE PRIME MINISTER Englishwoman and a member of the " empire of himianity," she, who had come to destroy the Prime Minister, remained to save him, and so, by a great and moving act of self-sacrifice, to bring nearer the day of peace. This sequel to the foreshadowed tragedy of the tea-party took such hold of me that I had to put aside the work on which I was engaged and go on forthwith with the drama which had shaped itself, so that within six or seven days, working continuously and feverishly, I had written the first draft of a play in four acts. But having got the subject off my mind, I put the manuscript among many similar papers in my bag, and thought no more about it for fully three years. Then the war began, and in the earliest days of it I availed myself of the friendly acquaintance I have enjoyed through many years with the present Prime Minister (then Chancellor of the Exchequer) to go down to breakfast with him, in order to ask if there was any way (such as by propaganda) in which a man who was too old for military duty, but was not unknown abroad, might be of service to his covmtry. At that breakfast (no one else being present except a fellow-author) the Prime Minister told a thrilling story — the story, which I trust I have not done wrong in making public already, of the Cabinet on the day of the Ultimatum, waiting in Mr. Asquith's room for the answer that was expected from Berlin before midnight, but overlooking the difference between mid-European time and Greenwich time, so that Great Britain was an hour at war before the country was aware of it. Listening to that story, told on the spot in the Prime Minister's vivid way, I remembered my play and thought, " That's my AUTHOR'S NOTE xi Prologue." Then I looked up my manuscript and wrote my drama over again, feeling that I had only touched the fringe of a great subject. And quite lately I have again rewritten it, out of that deep sense of the significance of war which none of us can know until we have gone through the pain and throb of it. Why The Prime Minister has not been produced in London before is a long story. It may be sufficient to say that the chief impediment was the difficulty of finding, among our many accomplished actresses, a woman who at once by her personality and training seemed to the author to meet precisely the needs of the trying situation in which he had placed his principal character. That difficulty disappeared when I saw Miss Ethel Irving in Brieux' Three Daughters of M. Dupont, and now I can only hope I have given her material as worthy of her genius. One word more. Looking round the theatres one sees that the class of entertainment most in vogue at present is that which combines bright music, bright faces, and beautiful dresses, with cheerful story and heartsome laughter. That is no doubt just as it should be, while a considerable part of the public to be catered for consists of our young soldiers on leave from the grey life of the trenches. Nothing could be better for them, and perhaps nothing else so good. But there is another part of the public who live at home, and have to face bereavement and the strain of ever-renewed and increasing self-sacrifice if we are to endure to the end of this grim business. Is it too much to assume that this public (a very large one) asks in the theatre, as elsewhere, for the food that xii THE PRIME MINISTER aims, however humbly, to strengthen the muscles of its soul, to lift up its heart, and exalt its hope that after so much suffering the world may win through to a joyful peace ? HALL CAINE Easier igi8 CHARACTERS The Rt. Hon. Sir Robert Temple Lord Burnley Mr. Dundas Sir Richard Carfax IVIr. Hallam Sir Mai,colm Clark Lady Dorothy Nugent Peggy, seven years of age Galloway Doctor Gottfried Schiller Mrs. Schiller Friedrich Schiller Otto Schiller, twenty years of age Dr. Hoffmann Freda Michel Margaret Schiller Secretaries of the Minister, Compatriots of the Schiller family SCENES PROLOGUE Resedbnce of the Minister FIRST ACT Apartment of Dr. Schiller in Soho Square SECOND ACT Residence of the Minister THIRD ACT Apartment of Dr. Schiller in Soho Square FOURTH ACT Residence of the IVIinister A period of one month is supposed to pass between the Prologue and Act I, and of two months between Acts II and III. The action of the rest of the play is continu- ous. Therefore in performance it is desirable that Acts I and II and Acts III and IV should be played without intervals. To avoid offence the time of the play is assumed to be in (lie future. CAST AT FIRST PEEFORMANCE ROYALTY THEATRE, MARCH 30, 1918 Management — Messes. Vedrenne AND Eadie Sir Robert Temple Mr. C. M. Hallard Lord Burnley MR. Vincent Stkrnroyd | Mr. Dundas Mr. HOWARD Sturge Sir Richard Carfax Mr. H. a. Young Mr. Hallam Mr. Ernest Ruston Sir Malcolm Clark Mr. Allan Jeayes Galloway Mr. Gilbert Porteous Dr. Gottfried Schiller Mr. Henry Vibart Friedrich Schiller Mr. a. B. Imeson Otto Schiller MR. Wilfred Fletcher | Dr. Hofifmann Mr. Arthur Ewart Lady Dorothy Nugent Miss Joy Chatwyn Peggy Miss Vesta Sylva Mrs. Schiller Mrs. a. B. Tapping Freda Michel Miss D. Holmes-Gore Margaret Schiller Miss Ethel Irving Produced by MR. Wilfred Eaton THE PRIME MINISTER PROLOGUE Scene. — Room in the house of the Minister. Large windoivs at back. Middle window opened to ground as door to garden. Door open. A clear night. Garden seen zvithout. Beyond garden St. James's Park, xvith lake, etc. Buckingham Palace in distance. Doors right and left. Fireplace on left. Above mantelpiece a portrait in oils of a young and beautiful woman. A light shining on portrait. Nearer to footlights there is a desk, with electric lamp, etc. It is a night in late summer. Electric light burning. A round table middle of room. Four gentlemen seated about it. Telephone bells, etc. Sir Robert Temple faces audience. He is about fort y- five ; has strong clean-shaven face. The others are men of varying ages. When curtain rises there is a moment of silence. The conference is seen to be one of considerable gravity. Sir Robert touches bell on table. A manservant enters right. I A 2 THE PRIME MINISTER Sir -Robert. Close the window and draw the curtains, Galloway. GA.I.LOWAY. Yes, sir. [All sit without speaking while door at back is closed, curtains drawn, etc. Sir Robert. Galloway ? Galloway. Yes, Sir Robert ? Sir Robert. Call up Mr. Denham at the Foreign Office. Give him my compliments and ask if any message has yet been received from the Embassy. Galloway. The Embassy, sir ? Sir Robert. He'll know which. If not, say I could wish him to put it through to this room the moment it arrives. Galloway. Yes, sir. Sir Robert. When Lord Burnley comes bring him up imme- diately. Galloway. Yes, sir. [Manservant goes out* THE PRIME MINISTER 3 Sir Robert. Pity our old colleague isn't here. Something must have detained him. No doubt he'll come presently. Others. Sure to Sir Robert. I particularly wished that we five should be together to-night. Others. Yes, of course, naturally. Sir Robert. When the reply to our Ultimatum comes, an answer may be required at once, and, of coiirse, it should be agreeable to all. Others. Of course 1 Of course 1 Hallam. But aren't we alarming ourselves unduly, sir ? Is it possible that our neighbours will repeat the blunder of the last war ? Carfax. They are again so plainly in the wrong. How can they defend such conduct ? DUNDAS. They can't and they won't; You may be sure they won't. They've learnt their lesson. 4 THE PRIME MINISTER Sir Robert. My experience is that when a nation has determined upon a poHcy it is the easiest thing in the world for it to become convinced that it is in the right, and no lesson from the past is sufficient to undeceive it. Hall AM. True! DUNDAS. Quite true ! Carfax. Yes, every nation thinks it carries the Ark of the Covenant. Sir Robert. Therefore I cherish no illusions to-night. But reply or no reply, all that remains to us is to follow the line of honour. Others. Quite so. Dukdas. So soon after the last war, though ! Hall AM. With all its frightful sorrow and suffering ! Carfax. Terrible ! Terrible ! Enter manservant as before. Galloway. Lord Burnley. THE PRIME MINISTER 5 Enter Lord Burnley. Elderly man. There are general salutations. Lord Burnley. Sorry to be late. Excuse me, Robert. [Nodding round table.] Carfax ! Dundas ! Hallam ! How long do you think it has taken me to reach here in a taxi from my house in Kensington ? An hour and a half I Traffic held up every-where ! People walk- ing in procession ! Mass meetings in Trafalgar Square ! Such unanimity of popular feeling ! Have never seen the like of it ! Others. Ahl Hallam. We've certainly got the country behind us, haven't we? Lord Burnley. Yes, it's always like that to begin with. Every great war in the history of the world has been heralded by just such outbursts of popular enthusiasm. But when the bill comes in, and the price has to be paid . . . Carfax. True! Lord Burnley. Terribly true ! The people of yesterday thought they were seeing the last of war. " A war to end war," they called it. And yet here we are, so soon afterwards, as the harvest of hate and revenge perhaps . . . ugh ! 6 THE PRIME MINISTER DUNDAS. Yes, reprisals, reprisals, reprisals ! Carfax. Frightful ! If war comes now it will be the most awful tragedy the world has ever witnessed. ■" DuNDAS. Twenty millions of dead — that's the least we can look for. Hall AM. More — far more ! Think of the development of physical force during the years of peace. Carfax. Yes, nobody can say what the consequences of war will be now. All past records are useless. DUNDAS. Utterly useless 1 Whole continents may be wiped out in a year, a month, nay, a week for all we know. Hallam. Yes, yes 1 Man has made his Frankenstein, and now God knows if it will not destroy him. Sir Robert. [Who has been listening in silence.] Gentlemen, let us not lose our strength in sentimentality. War is always terrible, and it may be even more terrible in the future than it has ever been in the past. But are we to buy the temporary ease and safety of our bodies at the lasting peril of our souls ? In this age THE PRIME MINISTER 7 of the world, are a little handful of arch-egotists and crowned degenerates to be permitted to plot, intrigue and samble in the destinies of hundreds of millions of people, in life and death, happiness and misery, with everything God gave us to be ours — on the land, in the air, on the sea ? No, the time has come when that terror has to die if liberty is to live, and it is for us to kill it. Therefore we sent our Ultimatum this morning, and if as a consequence we are called upon to make the sacrifices of war for the things that are more to us than life, we must make them — every man, every woman, every child. [There is a moment of silence. Then from wilhin comes the cry of a child. Sir Robert listens, then touches bell. Maid- servant enters.] What was that ? Maidservant. Little Miss Peggy, sir. Awakened from sleep in a fright. Must have been a nightmare. She's calling for her father, and Nurse says she cannot be pacified. Sir Robert. [Rising.] Excuse me, gentlemen. [He goes out at right. His colleagues look after him, and then smile. Carfax. Isn't that like him ? Dundas. Isn't it ? Carfax. How little the world knows liim ! 8 THE PRIME MINISTER Hallam. How little indeed ! Carfax. A hard, austere, unyielding nature, without a touch of sentiment, and yet . . . Hallam. A person of such underlying tenderness that his highest, gravest, sternest moment may be broken in upon by the cry of a little child ! DUNDAS. Strange contradiction ! Hali^m. Extraordinary combination of conflicting cha- racteristics ! Carfax. What a victim for the designing man ! Hallam. Or the scheming woman ! Lord Burnlky. No! Hallam. No? Lord Burnley. The scheming woman— no I Robert Temple carries one talisman against that kind of peril [Pointing to portrait over fireplace], the memory of his dead wife. THE PRIME MINISTER 9 Carfax. Ah ! You knew him during his early married life, didn't you ? Lord Burnley. Yes, through all the sad and hidden years of it. Carfax. Rather a hard time, wasn't it ? Lord Burnley. Very. Wlien Temple came up from the University he was poor — very poor. Carfax. Hardly had enough to pay his fees for the Bar — isn't that so ? Lord Burnley. [Nodding.] Then by some chance he came to know the family of that rich old dunderhead. Lord Nugent. You remember him, Hallam ? Halla]vi. Perfectly. A hard old nut if ever there was one. Lord Burnley. The old man had two daughters, and Temple fell in love with the younger of them [Indicating portrait] — Margaret. When he asked for her, Nugent almost spat in his face. " The briefless beggar," " the parvenu," and so forth. Cabfax. Just so. lo THE PRIME MINISTER Loud Burnley. Things had gone too far though, and in spite of her father's refusal the girl married Temple, and was forthwith cut off for the rest of the old man's life. Hallam. She would be. Lord Burnley. Then followed ten years of poverty — some say privation. The young wife bore it cheerfully. Never regretted her choice. Always believed in her husband — his talents, his future, his destiny. He would be the first man in England some day. Others. Ah! Lord Burnley. Then old Nugent died, and not being able to alienate the whole of his fortune. Temple's wife became rich. Hallam. Jumped in a moment into ten thousand a year, they say. Lord Burnley. [Nodding.^ Temple had made some progress, too. Got into Parliament somehow, and produced a con- siderable impression. And when the great crisis came Carfax. The great war you mean ? Lord Burnley. [Kodding.'\ And reputations were being made — and THE PRIME MINISTER li lost — in a month, Temple was given a place in the Government. Hai.lam. So that after fifteen years of poverty and obscurity he and his wife broke into great prosperity. Lord Burnley. [Nodding.] Into great happiness also. After many years of childlessness a child was born to them — the little girl he has gone upstairs to see. And then the bolt fell — you know how ? Carfax. The death of his wife ? Lord Burnley. Her death-warrant anyway. An incurable malady I Temple thought it had been accelerated — perhaps generated — by the long period of their poverty, and reproached himself accordingly. Others. Pitiful ! Pitiful I Lord Burnley. He did everj-thing that love and care could do. Time passed — two years, three years, four. At last he took her to Switzerland. Hallam. Yes, up to the Engadine. Lord Burnley. No use 1 Six months later she came back worse 12 THE PRIME MINISTER than she went, and died, as you remember, in the spring. Carfax, Poor wife ! DUNDAS. Poor husband ! Lord Burnley. All the world heard of his bereavement, but nobody was allowed to know how much he felt it. Parliament never knew. Even his colleagues never knew. Others. Never ! Lord Burnley. He had formed his own Ministry in the meantime, and next day, after the funeral, found him on the Treasury Bench as usual. Apparently the same man as ever — proud, austere, reserved, unmoved, and immovable. He had brought in his wife's sister. Lady Dorothy, to look after his house and take care of his little daughter, and . . . that was all. Carfax. All? Lord Bttrnley. All that was visible to the eye of the world, I mean. Yes, a strange combination of the iron-willed man and the tender-hearted sentimentalist, I admit. But in danger from the scheming woman — no ! Under his stern and cold exterior his dead wife still lives as in a shrine. [Sir Robert returns to the room. THE PRIME MINISTER 13 Sir Robert. A thousand apologies. It was nothing. My little daughter's nurse had been telling the child some foolish stories before she went to bed. Thought some danger threatened her father, and couldn't be got to sleep without seeing him. Any answer from the Foreign Office ? Others. No — nothing yet. Sir Robert. [Looks at watch.'\ Time enough still. The Ulti- matum does not expire until midnight. It's only half-past ten. My sister-in-law has had a little cold supper laid in the next room. Let us go in to it. Others. {Rising.'] With pleasure ! Carfax. [Going up.] An hour and a half yet. Hall AM. [Going up.] They will be sure to wait until the last moment. DUNDAS [Going up.] Sure to. [The men are passing into room on left when a lady enters by door on right. It is Lady Dorothy Nugent, about thirty-five. She has an open letter in her hand. Lady Dorothy. Robert ! 14 THE PRIME MINISTER Sir Robert. Dorothy ! Lady DoROxnY. May I speak to you for a moment ? Sir Robert. [To men.] Excuse me. Go in, gentlemen. Sit down without ceremony. I'll follow you presently. [To Lady Dorothy.] Well ? Lady DoROTnY. Sorry to trouble you at such a time, but the matter is urgent. It's about Peggy. Lucy, the nurse, is no longer a possible person to have charge of such a nervous, imaginative child. She must have a gover- ness immediately. Sir Robert. [Going up.] I agree. Find one as soon as possible. Lady DoROxnY. Another moment, Robert. Do you remember that our dear Margaret used to speak of a Swiss governess •whom she wished to engage ? Sir Robert. [Coming back.] The one she found in the Engadine ? I do. Lady Dorothy. Well, this letter has come from the girl to-night. It was addressed to Margaret, and I thought you would like me to open it, so I did. Clearly the girl hasn't heard of our darling's death. She writes to say she is leaving her situation, and if Margaret still THE PRIME MINISTER 15 wishes to engage her she can come to England immediately. Sir Robert. [Going up again.] Good ! Tell her what has happened, and let her come as soon as possible. Lady DoRoxnY. Of course we shall be taking a certain risk. Sir Robert. A risk? Lady Dorothy. We have never seen the girl. We know notliing about her. Sir Robert. But surely Margaret must have known all about her. In fact, she did. I remember that while she was at St. Moritz she mentioned the girl in more than one of her letters. [Coming down to desk.] Let me see if I can find anything. Lady Dorothy. Yes, do. It will be safer. Sir Robert. [After taking from drawer a bundle of letters and glancing at one of them.] Ah, here it is. [Reading.] " The references of the yoimg Swiss girl, Freda Michel, whom I thought of as governess for our darling Peggy, turn out to be quite satisfactory. The American family with whom she is at present engaged will give her the warmest recommendations when they leave Europe to return home." That's good enough, isn't it ? i6 THE PRIME MINISTER Lady Dorothy. It seems so, certainly. Sir Robert. Then write immediatelj'^ ; tell the girl to come to London at once. Lady Dorothy. Very well, if you are satisfied. Sir Robert. I am, perfectly. [Lady Dorothy goes out. Sir Robert continues to look at the letter, reading parts of t/.] " I am sure you will like Freda. She is a sweet, simple, frank, sincere creature. Decidedly pretty, too, with her sea-blue eyes and golden hair." [" Big Ben " is heard chiming the quarter — six beats. Sir Robert folds up the letters, puts them to his lips, returns them to the drawer ; switches off the light, and is turning up stage when — Voices are heard from supper-room, and the four men come out, looking very grave.] So soon ? Surely you've not finished already ? Lord Burnley. Robert, there is something we have only just thought of — something serious. Sir Robert. What is it ? Lord Burnley. The reply to our Ultimatum had to reach us before midnight, isn't that so ? Sir Robert. Undoubtedly. THE PRIME MINISTER 17 Lord Burnley. That would be understood by our neighbour nation to be midnight in the country of dispatch, wouldn't it? Sir Robert. Certainly. Lord Burnley. Have you remembered the difference in time ? Sir Robert. Eh? Lord Biirnley. The difference of an hour between Greenwich and mid-European time ? Sir Robert. [Embarrassed.'\ No, I confess, I had not remembered that. Lord Burnley. Twelve o'clock in mid-Europe will be eleven in London. Therefore Sir Robert. Therefore there is less than a quarter of an hour left. Lord Burnley. That is so. Sir Robert. [Sinking into a seat.} And if the reply does not come within a quarter of an hour the absence of an answer will be a declaration of war. {A strained and painful silence for a moment. B i8 THE PRIME MINISTER The men seat themselves about the table as before. Carfax. But the answer may come still. This telephone bell may ring at any moment. Hall AIM. Besides there may be a breakdown on the wires. Carfax. That is possible. Sir Robert. [Speaking at the telephone.] Is that you, Denham ? — Any answer from the Embassy ? — No ? — Has there been a breakdown on the continental wires to-night ? — Not heard of any ? Inquire, please, and ring up immediately. [He puts back the receiver. There is another painful silence. DUNDAS. [In a low voice.] What is the time now ? Sir Robert. [Looking at watch.] Seven minutes to eleven. Lord Burnley. [Gazing forwards tozvards audience.] Terrible to think that at this very moment the electric wires may be flashing the awful news through the dark air all over Europe. [The telephone bell rings. There is a startled movement about the table. THE PRIME MINISTER 19 Carfax. Perhaps that is Lord Burnley. Hush! Sir Robert. [Taking up receiver and listening.] Denham again ? — well ? — No interruption ? — Continental wires kept clear all evening ? — Continue to stand by — Ring up again the moment you hear anything. [Again Sir Robert puts up the receiver. The voices of the men drop to hushed whispers. DUNDAS. What time now ? Carfax. [Watch in hand.] Five minutes to eleven. Lord Burnley. [With same fixed gaze.] I seem to hear the tramp of twenty millions of men. Hallaji. Yes, and the scream of shell and the roar of cannon. Lord Burnley. [As before.] I see villages and cities given up to the flames — cathedrals devastated — harvests trodden into the earth — only sons falling in battle — the world bleeding to death — women and children slaughtered — whole nations homeless, houseless, on the roads. DUNDAS. Terrible ! Terrible ! 20 THE PRIME MINISTER Hallam. Such a hideous social tragedy, too ! We have tens of thousands of our neighbour nation Uving in our midst, and shall have to do as we did before — ^treat them all as enemies. Carfax. Yes, the people who have dined at our tables, slept in our beds. Haixam. Our alien servants, also — we shall have to turn them all out of doors. Carfax. And shut them up in bar bed- wire encampments. Hallam. Men and women — women particularly, perhaps. [TJiere is a dull rumble of voices outside in the distance. The men listen to it. DUNDAS. [Iji a breathless whisper.] What time — now ? Carfax. Two minutes to eleven. [The men drop Lhetr heads. Sir Robert rises, goes to window, draws back curtains. Park seen outside. Murmur becomes louder ; then dies down. Hallam. Sir Robert ? THE PRIME MINISTER 21 Sir Robert. [At window, in a toneless voice.] Yes ? Hallam. Can you see the clock of St. Stephen's from there ? Sir Robert. [Without turning.] No. Hallam = When it strikes can you hear it ? Sir Robert. Yes. Lord Burnley. [As before.] It is just as if the whole world were on tip-toe — waiting for the thunder-stroke of fate. Carfax. If the telephone rings even now, it may still be peace. DUNDAS. But if not Lord Burnley. [Listening, raising his hand.] Hush ! [Through the awful stillness comes the deep' booming of " Big Ben,'^ striking eleven. Boom ! Boom ! Boom ! [No one moves until the last of the eleven strokes has gone reverberating through the silence of the night. [Then Sir Robert returns to the head of the table. All rise. 22 THE PRIME MINISTER Sir Robert. [In a deep, low voice, charged with emotion.] It's war ! [The distant murmur of the crowd outside is heard again. CURTAIN FALLS SLOWLY FIRST ACT Scene. — Doctor Gottfried Schiller's apartment in Soho Square. Large room fronting the square. Three windows at back. Doors right and left. Fireplace on right. Pictures of composers on walls — Beethoven, Handel, Mozart, Chopin, Wag- ner ; also a portrait of the Kaiser. Grand piano on right. Harp, violin, music-stand. Table, side- board, and sofa on left. It is afternoon, late in the autumn. Trees in square are almost leafless. A fire is burning. An elderly woman, Mrs. Schiller, is knitting by the fire. As curtain rises a military band (playing " Tipper ary ") is heard passing through the square, accompanied by the tramp of troops. Old woman listens, sighs. Sound of band dies away. Door on left is opened with a bang, and a young man comes bounding in. It is Otto Schiller, twenty years of age. He has an open telegram in his hand ; is excited and overjoyed. Otto. Auntie I Mrs. Schiller. WeU, Otto ? 33 24 THE PRIME MINISTER Otto. [Flourishing telegram.] A telegram from Freda. Mrs. Schiller. Freda ? / Otto. Don't you know ? Freda Michel. Mrs. Schiller. The young Swiss governess you and Margaret met in Switzerland ? Otto. Why, yes, last winter at St. Moritz. She's coming to London to take a situation. Mrs. Schiller. So Margaret was saying yesterday. Otto. The telegram is to Margaret, but as Margaret is out I've opened it. [Reading.] " Dover 2.20 p.ri* Arrive Charing Cross at 4. Ask Otto to meet me. — Freda." Mrs. Schiller. Four o'clock ? Otto. Yes, and it's nearly that now, so I'm off. [Snatching up cap from sideboard.] Auntie ? Mrs. Schiller. WeU? Otto. May I bring Freda back ? Just for an hour or THE PRIME MINISTER 25 two before she goes to her situation ? If I don't Margaret won't see her. Mrs. Schiller. {With a laugh.] Ha ha ! Margaret ! Otto. [Aho laughing.] Well — all of us. You'll love Freda, auntie. Such a joUj' little thing ! Mrs. Schiller. Has she travelled far, Otto ? Otto. All the way from Zurich. That's far enough in ordinary times, but in these war days, you know Mrs. Schiller. [Rising.] Well, well ! The girl will be tired after her long journey. Bring her back with you and I'll give her a cup of tea. Otto. [Bounding towards door and opening it.] Splendid ! Oh, tell Margaret when she comes — Wait ! I'll leave the telegram on the mantelpiece. [Puts open telegram in front of clock on mantelpiece.] See, I'm putting it here — Leb' wohl ! Mrs. Schiller. Leb' wohl ! [Otto is rushing out by open door on right when, he collides with three men coming in. One wears the uniform of an Inspector 26 THE PRIME MINISTER of Police ; another is a plain-clothes officer, and carries a notebook ; the third is in the ordinary clothes of a gentleman. Inspector. [Stopping Otto.] One moment. Your name, please ? Otto. [Bridling up.] What's that to you ? Inspector. Come, don't be rude, young man. We are In- spectors of Police, making the register of enemy aliens under the new military regulations. Otto. [Trying to push past.] Are you indeed ? Well, I've got to meet a train at Charing Cross at four o'clock, so if you'll be good enough to Inspector. [Blocking way.] Your name, please. Otto. [Sulkily.] Otto Schiller, if you must know. Officer in Plain Clothes. He can be allowed to go. Otto. Can he ? Enemy aliens, are we ? Ugh 1 [He goes out with snorts of contempt. The men step farther into the room. THE PRIME MINISTER 27 Inspector. Sorry, ma'am. We shall be compelled to ask you a few questions. Mrs. Schiller. [Nervously.] Well ? [Inspector questions ; plain-clothes officer writes anszvers in book ; third man walks about room, looking at everything. Inspector. Is this the apartment of Doctor Gottfried Schiller ? Mrs. Schiller. Yes, it is. Inspector. Then you are Mrs. Schiller ? H Mrs. Schiller. Yes, I am. Inspector. Your Christian name is — what is your Christian name ? Mrs. Schiller. Marie. Inspector. Native of — what is your native place ? Mrs. Schiller. Hagen, of Westphalia. Inspector. Lived long in London ? 28 THE PRIME MINISTER Mrs. Schiller. Ever since my son was born, and that's thirty years come Christmas. Inspector. Naturalized ? Mrs. Schiller. No. My husband didn't think it necessary for a woman. Inspector. Your husband is a doctor of music, and Professor at — Where is he Professor ? Mrs. Schiller. At the College of Music. I thought everybody in London knew that. Inspector. Native of Mrs. Schiller. Same place — Hagen, Westphalia. Inspector. Has he been naturalized ? Mrs. Schiller. Yes, he has — had to be when he took his professor- ship. Inspector. You speak of a son — what's his name ? Mrs. Schiller. Friedrich. We call him Fritz. THE PRIME MINISTER «9 Inspector. He lives with you '( Mrs. Schiller. Yes, indeed he does. Inspector. And what's his profession ? Mrs. Schiller. He's one of the night editors at Richter's. Inspector. The International Telegraphic Agency ? Mrs. Schiller. Certainly. Inspector. [Looking round at gentleman.] H'm I And the young man Otto, who has just gone out ? Is he another son ? Mrs. Schiller. No, a nephew. Son of my husband's brother. Inspector. Husband's brother — does he live here also ? Mrs. Schiller. 1 wish he did, poor soul 1 Inspector. Where then ? 30 THE PRIME MINISTER Mrs. Schiller. Nowhere. He's dead. If you are Inspectors of Police you must know all about that. Inspector. [Again looking round at gentleman.] Was he Doctor Paul Schiller ? Mrs. Schiller. Indeed he was. Inspector. Got into trouble about passports in the first days of the war, didn't he ? Mrs. Schiller. Dare say he did. Inspector. Was tried for treason, and got three years, I think? Mrs. Schiller. He didn't serve them, though. You know that. He died in prison, and then his poor children had to come to live with us. Inspector. So this young man Otto is one of them ? What's his profession ? Mrs. Schiller. He hasn't any. He was studying medicine, but when the war broke out he had to leave the hospital. Inspector. And his sister — what's her name ? THE PRIME MINISTER 31 Mrs. Schiller. Margaret. Inspector. Is she doing anything ? Mrs. Schiller. No, but that's not her fault. Since her father's death she's been out every day looking for a situation as governess. She's out now, if you wish to know. Inspector. Clever girl, isn't she ? Mrs. Schiller. The cleverest girl in London. The best one, too. But it's no use — she can get nothing. [The gentleman at back now steps down. During the foregoing dialogue he has been seen at fireplace, looking at telegram, reading it, and putting it into his pocket. Gentleman. What is your niece like to look upon ? Tall and dark, isn't she ? Mrs. Schiller. Yes, she is. Gentleman. Has a strong, intelligent face, and large black eyes — isn't that so ? Mrs. Schiller. Yes, indeed, and — but here is Margaret Schiller herself, so you can judge for yourself, sir. 32 THE PRIME MINISTER [The door on r. has been opened quietly and a young woman has entered. She is in outdoor costume and answers to the ^ above description. The gentleman looks steadily at her for a moment. Margaret. [Quietly. '\ Were you asking for me, sir ? Inspector. Yes, for the purpose of the register of enemy aliens under the new military regulations. But we've got all we want, and need trouble you no further. [Crossing to go.] Good day, Miss Schiller. Other Officers. [To Mrs. Schiller.] Good day to you, ma'am I [The women make no reply. The men go out. Margaret. Oh, these English! They number us like cattle and treat us like dogs I Mrs. Schiller. [Drawing curtains, siviiching up lights.] It's all the war. We must keep up our hearts and make the best of it, dear. Margaret. [Silting, removing her hat.] Where's Otto ? Mrs. Schiller. Gone to the railway station. THE PRIME MINISTER 33 Margaret. The railway station ? Mrs. Schiller. Yes. Who do you think is coming by train ? Your young friend from Switzerland. Margaret. Freda Micliel ? Mrs. Schiller. That's the name. She telegraphed — where's her telegram ? Whatever has become of it ? I thought Otto said he was putting it on the chimneypiece. I do believe it has fallen into the fire. Margaret. Never mind what has become of the telegram. What did it say, auntie ? Mrs. Schiller. It said she was arriving at Charing Cross by the train at four. Margaret. So Otto has gone to meet her ? Mrs. Schiller. [Putting kettle on fire.] Yes, and he's to bring her up for a cup of tea before she goes to her new situa- tion. She's got one in London, it seems. Lucky girl, isn't she ? Margaret. She's Swiss. If she'd been an " enemy alien " [Laughs bitterly.] c 34 THE PRIME MINISTER Mrs. Schiller. [Looking at her.] No chance to-day either, dear ? Margaret. Neither to-day, nor to-morrow, nor any day, auntie. Mrs. Schiller. Wasn't the lady satisfied with your certificates ? Margaret. Oh, my certificates were all right. But when she heard who I was [Stops, with a gesture of des- pair.} Mrs. Schiller. Oh dear ! Oh dear ! Your father again, I sup- pose ? Margaret. Yes, my poor father again. Oh, how they hate us, these English ! How they hate and hate us. Mrs. Schiller. It's only the war, dear. War is a poison that seems to turn people's blood into gall. Margaret. Then the blood of the English must be all gall, auntie. Mrs. Schiller. Ours, too — you must admit that, Margaret. Margaret. Mine wasn't untU they made it so. I was born here. I tried to love this country. [With emotion.'] THE PRIME MINISTER 35 I wanted to be a good, true, loyal daughter of England. God knows I did. But they wouldn't let me. First father, then Otto, now myself— [Vehe- mently.] Very well, if they hate me, I hate them — why shouldn't I ? Mrs. Schiller. Don't say that, Margaret. People can't go on hating each other for ever. The war will come to an end soon, and then all this bitterness will be over. Margaret. Never ! It will never be over, auntie. Mrs. Schiller. It will — I'm sure it will. And, meantime, if you cannot find a situation there is always a home for you here, as long as the doctor and I have a roof to cover us. Margaret. But how long will that be, auntie ? Uncle's pupils are leaving him, aren't they ? Mrs. Schiller. That's true. But there's his professorship, you know. Your uncle's position at the College is so secure. They worship him there, Margaret. Margaret. [Wearily.] Ah, well Mrs. Schiller. Besides, there's Fritz. It's easy to see your cousin is fond of you, and if you would only consent 36 THE PRIME MINISTER to marry him there would be no need to think of a situation. Margaret. Don't ask me to do that, auntie. Mrs. Schiller. Why shouldn't you ? Fritz would be so happy, and as for me and the doctor — Why, here is the doctor ! [An elderly man has entered on r. He looks dejected.] Gottfried! You're home early to-day, aren't you, dear ? Doctor. [Sinking into a chair.] Yes, I am, Marie. Mrs. Schiller. [Arucionsly.] Has anything — anything happened ? Doctor. I'm dismissed. Mrs. Schiller. Dismissed from the College ? Doctor. That's so. The governors held their quarterly meeting to-day, and in the middle of a lesson they sent for nic. They were sorry — very sorry — but since the sinking of that troopship public feeling had become so strong against persons of enemy origin that it was impossible to keep on an alien professor any longer. So in the interests of the College they were compelled — reluctantly compelled — to dispense with my services immediately. THE PRIME MINISTER 37 Mrs. Schiller. Immediately, Gottfried ? Doctor. [Nodding.] Then and there — from that very moment. Mrs. Schiller. Oh dear ! Oh dear ! It will be a terrible blow to us. But we must keep up heart, and as soon as the war is over Doctor. Are we to starve in the meantime, Marie ? Mrs. Schiller. Don't say that, Gottfried. Our income will be less, and we shall have to pinch. But there is Fritz. Before the war began his directors promised him a rise in his salary at Christmas, and only this evening when he went off to the office [The door on r. has opened again, and a young man has entered ; about twenty- nine ; intelligent-looking, rather cynical. Fritz! Mother ! Mrs. Schiller. Fritz. Mrs. Schiller. [Nervously.] Have you — have you come back for something ? Fritz. [Laughing bitterly.] Yes, for good. i>98ii;8 38 THE PRIME MINISTER Mrs. Schiller. Has — has anything happened at the office ? Fritz. No, not much. I'm discharged — that's all. Mrs. Schiller. You, too, Fritz ? Fritz. The moment I got in, the managing director sent for me. He had a serious announcement to make. Doctor. Ah! Fritz. Last night there had been questions in Parhament. Was it true that persons of enemy origin were being employed as editors at certain continental telegraphic agencies ? Doctor. Ha ha ! Fritz. Result — a hint from the Home Office this morning that all such persons were to be got rid of imme- diately. Mrs. Schiller. But why should they be so cruel ? Fritz. [Laughing bitterly.] Why ? They said news of the transport of troops had become known to the enemy — that ten thousand of them had been sunk THE PRIME MINISTER 39 Mrs. Schiller. Sunk ? Did they mean the soldiers on those troopships ? Fritz. Yes, the British soldiers who were being sent over to slaughter our own. Mrs. Schiller. But you had nothing to do with that, had you, Fritz ? [Margaret raises her head and listens. Fritz laughs bitterly. Doctor Schiller makes a warning gesture to him. Fritz. Never mind whether I had or hadn't. It all came to the same thing, mother. I was paid a month's salary and — sacked ! [Laughs bitterly.] Mrs. Schiller. [Rocking herself in her chair.] Oh dear ! Oh dear I Just what happened to your father. Fritz. Father, too ! Mrs. Schiller. Yes, yes, they've behaved badly to both of you. But it's all the war, and when things have got down to their worst they are sure to mend. So Margaret. [Whose face has groivn more and more dark with gathering passion.] But who knows if things have got down to their worst, aimtie ? 40 THE PRIME MINISTER Mrs. Schiller. They have, dear — I'm sure they have. Last night at the club it was enough to make a woman's heart bleed to see so manj'^ women in trouble. There was poor Mrs. Weber, whose husband was taken for signalling, or something — [Tltere is a knock on the door at r.] Who's there ? Come in ! [Middle-aged man of the professional class enters.] Oh, is it you, Dr. Hoffmann ? Hoffmann. [Looking rotmd.] You're engaged ? Doctor. No, no, sit down, Hoffmann. Hoffmann. [Sitting.] Sorry to bring bad news, doctor. It's about the club. Doctor. Our Goethe Club ? Hoffmann. Yes. You remember the stranger who came in and stood at the back last night at the end of Mar- garet's lecture ? Doctor. [Nodding.] Well ? Hoffmann. He turns out to have been a detective. And this morning our club-room was raided, doors sealed, everything carried away. Doctor. But why ? THE PRIME MINISTER 41 Hoffmann. Because the police believe our club to be a centre of conspiracy, a secret organization. Doctor. But it isn't. It never [Checks himself, looks towards Margaret and stops.] Fritz. But why shouldn't it be ? Mrs. Schiller. Fritz 1 Fritz. If the Government of this accursed country have determined to treat us as conspirators, why shouldn't we be conspirators ? Mrs. Schiller. Fritz t Fritz 1 Fritz. If we're not we ought. I know where we can get money enough for that purpose anyway. Mrs. Schiller. Fritz, whatever are you saying ? Doctor. Hold your tongue, Marie. Don't you see what they are doing, these English ? Fritz is right — quite right. Fritz. They'll be sending round their inquiry books and making a register of enemy aliens next. 42 THE PRIME MINISTER Doctor. So they -will. Margaret. They're doing that already, uncle. Doctor. Akeady ? ]\L\RGARET. WTien I came home this evening there were three Inspectors of PoHce in the house. Doctor. That means internment. Before long we shall be shut up in a camp, and driven mad, or worse, as our people were during the last war. Margaret. Oh, I hate them ! I hate them ! Mrs. Schiller. Don't say that, Margaret. Margaret. But I do say it. And never as long as I live will I set foot in an English house again. Mrs. Schiller. Don't say that either. We've lived thirty years among the English, your uncle and I, and found many kind friends among them. It's not the people's fault ! It's the Government over them. IIOFF.MANN. That's true. It's not so much the English nation as the man at the head of it. THE PRIME MINISTER 43 DOCTOK. Sir Robert Temple Hoffmann. Yes, that hj^Docrite, that tyrant. It was he who made this accursed war. Doctor. It was he who made these military regulations, anyway, and sent so many of our people to their death. Margaret. [With emotion.] My father — my poor dear father — among them. Hoffmann. The man has no bowels of compassion for any- body. Margaret. [Quivering.] Oh, is there no way to punish him ? Fritz. Punish him ? A Minister of State ? ^Vhat way can there be ? He has the whole machinery of government to protect him. Margaret. But if it's impossible to reach him in his own person, has he no friends, no relations, no wife, no child . . . Mrs. Schiller. Margaret, what are you saying ? Surely you wouldn't make the innocent suffer for the guUty ? 44 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. [Rising, fiercely.] Why shouldn't I ? Hasn't he ? What about Otto's sufferings and mine ? If I could make him suffer as he made my father suffer, as he is making us all suffer, do you think I wouldn't doit? Mrs. Schiller. No, Indeed, you wouldn't. Margaret. I would ! As God is my witness I would ! Oh, if I could only have the chance ! I would sacrifice my life for it ! I hate him ! I hate him ! [The door on r. flies open with a bang, and Otto returns, carrying a suit-case, which bears foreign labels, and followed by a young girl, ivith fair hair. Otto. Here she is, auntie. This is Freda. Mrs. Schiller. [Shaking hands.] Glad to see you, Freda. Freda. Thank you, Mrs. Schiller. Margaret ! Margaret. Freda ! [The girls embrace and kiss. Mrs. Schiller. [To Doctor.] Freda is a Swiss friend of Otto's and Margaret's. She has just arrived from Zurich, and Otto has brought her up to tea. THE PRIME MINISTER 45 Doctor. She comes in a dark hour, but she's welcome. [Shaking hands with Freda.] Sit down, my child. [General salutations. Mrs. Schiller. [At table.] Yes, come — let us sit down at the table. Otto. Yes, let's sit down to tea. [Tea is served. There is general chatter for a moment. Margaret. [Side by side with Freda.] So you've come to London to take the situation you wrote about ? Freda. Yes, as governess to a little girl. But what do you think has happened ? The English lady who engaged me in the Engadine has died. Margaret. Died in the meantime ? Freda. Yes, she died shortly after arriving in London. But her sister — Lady Dorothy Nugent, such a nice lady — she wrote to say that my lady's husband wished me to come just the same. Margaret. [Startled.] Did you say Lady Dorothy Nugent, Freda? 46 THE PRIME MINISTER Freda. Yes, that's the name. She keeps house for her brother-in-law, seemingly. Margaret. And what — what is her brother-in-law's name, Freda ? Freda. Lord Robert— no. Sir Robert Temple. Several Voices. [As if thunderstruck.] Temple! Sir Robert Temple ! Freda. Is that a well-known name in England, then ? [A strained silence, the men looking into each othefs faces. Margaret. [Her hand to her forehead as if she had been struck a blow.] Oh, quite — quite ! Otto. [Plying Freda with food.] More bread and butter, Freda. You must be as hungry as a horse after that long journey. Freda. I am. Don't you see I am ? But I mustn't stay long. They'll be expecting me, and think I'm lost if I don't arrive soon. Margaret. [After a pau^e, clutching at Freda's arm at at a THE PRIME MINISTER 47 new thought.] Freda, have you ever seen Sir Robert Temple ? Freda. Never ! Margaret. Has he ever seen you ? Freda. Not that I know of. Margaret. Did he never come up to the Engadine while his wife was an invalid there ? Freda. Yes, but I never met him. Margaret. Did Lady Dorothy ever come ? Freda. No. Margaret. Did you ever see anybody else with Lady Temple — anybody from England, I mean ? Freda. Nobody except her maid. Margaret. Ah ! — and did her maid return with her to London ? Freda. No. She left her at St. Moritz and went away 48 THE PRIME MINISTER with an Italian family to Florence, when my lady's husband came up to take her home. Margaret. Then there is nobody at Sir Robert Temple's house now who has ever seen you before ? Freda. ^ Nobody whatever. Margaret. When you arrive there you will be quite a stranger ? Freda. Quite. Margaret. And except that a Swiss girl named Freda Michel is coming from Zurich to be governess to the child they will know nothing about you ? Freda. Nothing at all. Margaret. The only member of the family who ever saw you was Lady Temple ? Freda. Yes, Lady Margaret Temple. Margaret. And she is dead ! Freda. Yes, she is dead. Margaret, Ah I [Breathless silence among the company. THE PRIME MINISTER 49 Freda. But why do you ask, Margaret ? I'm not afraid to go into a strange family. When a girl has to earn her living she can't afford to be afraid. Besides, Lady Dorothy must be a dear, and if you had heard what my lady used to say about her husband you would think he was a saint, an angel. Margaret. {Impulsively, excitedly.] Freda, would you do me — Otto, all of us — a great kindness ? Freda. My dear, you know I would. Margaret. Then — then — let me go to Sir Robert Temple'* hoiLse instead of you. Freda. You mean in my place ? Margaret. Yes, as if I were Freda Michel, who had come from Zurich to be governess to his little girl. Freda. [Rising.l Margaret ! Margaret. It's not the salary — you shall have that. I have something to do that can only be done in that bouse. Mrs. Schiller. Margaret, whatever are you thinking of ? 30 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. Hush ! Leave this to me, auntie ! Doctor. Yes, leave it to her, Marie. Margaret knows what she's doing. Margaret. [Draiving Freda back into her chair, speaking rapidly, passionately.] Listen, dear. Sir Robert Temple is not the good man you suppose him to be, but a cruel tyrant, who persuaded the English to begin this wicked war, and has been the real cause of untold sufiering among our people. My father — Otto's and mine — I told you in my letters our poor father was dead, but I didn't tell you how he died. He died in prison. Yes, in prison — killed, murdered, for doing what any good man would have done for his Fatherland. Sir Robert Temple did that, too. And now he is going to shut us all up in internment camps — behind barbed wire — men and women as well, perhaps — and treat us like lepers and dogs. Yet we can't retaliate. He is so far above us that we can't reach him to punish him. But if only somebody could get close to him — some woman by preference — into his house, as governess or secretary — she might find a way — who knows ? — to put an end to his tyrannies. Let me go in your place, dear, let me, let me. Freda. [Troubled.] But think — think of the risk. Margaret. There would be no risk for you, and I can takt care of myself, dear. THE PRIME MINISTER 51 Freda. But if you go to Sir Robert Temple's instead of me, what am I to do, Margaret ? Margaret. Stay here with Otto and uncle and aunt and Cousin Fritz. Mrs. Schiller. [In alarm.] But, Margaret, if the Inspectors come again and ask for Margaret Schiller Margaret. Freda Michel will be here to stand for her. [To Freda.] Say you agree — say you agree. Freda. [Wavering.] It's true this gentleman is nothing to me, and if he is the bad man you say Margaret. He is — ^he is. Freda. Anyway he is nothing to me, and I know nothing about him, whereas you and Otto Margaret. [Throwing her arms about Freda.] Then you agree ? You darling ! [Leaping up.] That's settled then. What luggage have you ? Freda. Only this suit-case, and a trunk downstairs. 52 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. [Picking up suit-case.] This will do. [Reading label.] " Zurich." Good ! Give me the keys. [Tak- ing keys from Freda.] We must change wardrobes, you know. Mrs. Schiller. What are you going to do, Margaret ? Margaret. [Going in on l.] Don't ask me. I don't know myself yet. Give me a month in that house and we shall see. Mrs. Schiller But why — — Margaret. [At door.] Why am I going there ? Because it is the centre of everything — the war and all the abomina- tions of the world. Oh, to be a month in that house 1 Only a month ! [She goes out L, Mrs. Schiller. But, Margaret Doctor. Leave her alone, Marie. Hoffmann. Yes, leave her alone. Exceptional women have impulses, instincts, intuitions Fritz. If Margaret only manages her cards well now Hoffmann. Trust her — trust her. THE PRIME MINISTER 53 Doctor. Remember her father — my poor brother Paul Fritz. She may destroy this man who is destroying us. Hoffmann. She may. Fritz. Women have done such things before in the history of the world — why shouldn't Margaret ? Doctor. Why shouldn't she ? Mrs. Schiller. Gottfried I Doctor. Hush! [Sounds of drawers being violently opened and closed within. Silence on stage, everybody motionless. Then Margaret returns, carrying suit-case, also cloak and hat. Margaret. [To Freda.] I've thrown your clothes on my bed, dear, and put in enough of my own for the present. Now, Otto, fetch me a taxi. Otto, [Who has been listening uneasily.] But, Margaret, isn't there something you've forgotten ? 54 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. What ? Otto. Although there is nobody at Sir Robert Temple's house who knows Freda, isn't it possible there may be somebody who knows you ? Margaret. [Putting on cloak and hat.] Margaret Schiller ? In the house of a Minister of State ? What an idea ! Come, run off for the cab. [Otto goes off r. Fritz comes down. Fritz. But isn't there another possibility ? Margaret. What is that ? Fritz. [Nervously.] If Temple is the sort of man people say, isn't it possible that he may take advantage of the presence in his house of a young girl — a beautiful girl Margaret. [Laughing wildly.] That would be the most glorious chance of all. I would give the world for it ! [Otto returns. Otto. Here you are. Got one at the door. Margaret. Shoulder the bag then. [Otto and Fritz go out r.] Good-bye, auntie ! Don't look so frightened. [Kiss- ing her.] Good-bye, uncle ! Don't be afraid for me. THE PRIME MINISTER 55 [Kissing him.] Good-bye, Dr. Hoffmann ! Good- bye, Freda ! You dearest, dearest girl I It will be all right. You'll see it will. Good-bye, everybody ! [She is at the door, about to go out, when a military band, playing a patriotic tune, is heard passing through the square with soldiers marching to it, and singing as they march. [Margaret stands listening — her face is quivering with passion. As the playing and singing are dying down, she sweeps round to tfie piano and bangs out the tune of " Deutschland iiber Alles.'* Mrs. Schiller. [Terrijied.] Margaret ! Margaret ! [Margaret stops on a broken bar, rises, steps to door, and as the singing dies off she recites in a wild, fierce, mocking, defiant voice. Margaret. " French and Russian, they matter not, A blow for a blow, and a shot for a shot. We love them not, we hate them not. We love as one, we hate as one, We have one foe, and one alone — England ! " [Laughs wildly and goes out, clashing the door behind her. The others stand dazed. The military band dies away in the distance. curtain SECOND ACT Scene. — Sir Robert Temple's house. 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, n. 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. THE PRIME MINISTER 57 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 particu- larly 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 ? 58 THE PRIME MINISTER 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 Scliiller. 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 ? THE PRIME MINISTER 59 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 ? 6o THE PRIME MINISTER 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. \Miat'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. [Risifi;^.] 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. THE PRIME MINISTER 6l Sir Robert. No qualms, no sentinientalism, no mistaken chivalry. Sir Malcouh. 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. 62 THE PRIME MINISTER 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 ]\L\lcolji. It is indeed, sir. Enter Galloway hy 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 newous. Her eyes are fixed on Sir Robert Temple, so that she does not look at the Chief Commissioner, whose back is to- wards 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 ? THE PRIME MINISTER 63 M/UIGARET. [Nervoxisly.] 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. Gallow^ay. 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? 64 THE PRIME MINISTER 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 ? THE PRIME MINISTER 63 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 / 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 I 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 ? 66 THE PRIME MINISTER Peggy. Yes, and papa, too. Margaret. But isn't papa very — very strict with you ? Peggy. WTiat's strict? Margaret. Being cross when you do things. Peggy. Auntie Dorothy says papa soils me. Margaret. [Another Utile 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 ? THE PRIME MINISTER 67 M\RGARET. I'm afraid he did. [With emolion.] He would have died for nie. 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.] \Mio is liucy ? 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. []\L\.rgaret laughs. Lady DoROTnY Nugent enters by upper door, l. Margaret rises. Margaret. Lady Dorothy ? 68 THE PRIME MINISTER Lady Dorothy. Yes. [Shaking hands.] You've made the acquain- tance 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 ivith 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. THE PRIME MINISTER 69 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 1 Sir Robert Temple is really the tenderest-hearted being alive. Margaret. [With a scarcely concealed sneer.] Ah f 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 I [Sir Robert returns by lower door, r. Peggy runs to him, crying " Papa 1 " He picks up the child in his arms, kisses her. Sir Robert. You little jilt 1 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 draivs blinds, switches up lights, and goes out. ^o THE PRIME MINISTER 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 I Margaret. [With a gasp.] Ah ! Sir Robert. Let me see — j'ou 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 THE PRIME MINISTER 71 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 I [Peggy, bitbbling 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 mothefs picture, and, ivith 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 ! 72 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. [At door, after watching this scene with obvious emotion.] Good night, sir ! Peggy. [Giving her hand to IVIargaret.] Good night, papa 1 See you in the morning. [Margaret and Peggy go otit by upper door, R. Sir Robert returns to desk. Lady Dorothy. Wei], how does she strike you ? Sir Robert. I like her. A Uttle 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 giri has come into the house with a certain hostile feeling against Sir Robert. Against whom ? Lady Dorothy. Well — against you. Sir Robert, ^\^lat reason have you for thinking that, Dorothy ? THE PRIME MINISTER 73 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 ALvlcolm. In that case you will pardon my presumption in coming to your house first. Sir Robert. Mine? 74 THE PRIME MINISTER Sir Malcoum. The young governess who came in as I went out- have you any personal knowledge of her, sir ? Sin 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. Is'ow I'm sure of it. Sir Robert. It must have been in some foreign country, then, for the young lady has just told nie 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 litfle vexed.] IVIr. Commissioner, j'ou bewilder me. A young Swiss girl, living in Zurich, is recom- mended 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 comse 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 THE PRIME MINISTER 75 Sin Robert. Who then ? Sin 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. Sin Malcolm. With pleasure. As I entered the apartment of Dr. Schiller this morning 1 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 ? Sin 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. Sin Robert. [Readijig.] " 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. 76 THE PRIME MINISTER \\ i| Sm Robert. [Eagerly.] Well ? Sir RIalcolm. 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 dis- turbed.] But, after all, this is only a general descrip- tion. 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 THE PRIME MINISTER 77 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 Malcolim. 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. [Draicing himself wp.] Mr. Commissioner, I tell you frankly, I shall be sorry if I am compelled to accept your story. Sib 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 78 THE PRIME MINISTER of a Minister of State in a false character and for the purpose of espionage. Sir ]\Lvlcolj\i. The enemy have become desperate, sir. They will dare anytliing. Sir Robert. Next, that the dear and trusted person who recom- mended 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 THE PRIME MINISTER 79 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. SiK Malcolji. 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 hell.] Certainly. [Galloway opens door. The Chief Commissioner bows himself out. Sib 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 asitated, 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 bi/ desk looking fixedhj 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 ? 8o THE PRIME MINISTER Sir Robert. Yes. Sorry to bring you down, but before you go to bed I find I must ask you a few questions. Margaret. [Watchfulbj.] 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. THE PRIME MINISTER 8i Margaket. Against me ? Sir Robert. [Nodding.] lie 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 per- plexing 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 tzco 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 ? 8a THE PRIME MINISTER 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 ? THE PRIME MINISTER 83 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 ? 84 THE PRIME MINISTER 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. 1 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.] WTiat did you say in it ? THE PRIME MINISTER 85 INIargaret. [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. IVIargaret. 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 ? ]\Lvrgaret. 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. 86 THE PRIME MINISTER 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. WTiat happened there ? Margaret. Oh, nothing— nothing particular. We had tea. Sir Robert. And then ? Margaret. Then Otto called another taxi and I came here. THE PRIME MINISTER 87 Sir Robert. V\Tiom did you leave behind you at Soho Square ? RIargaret. The usual family, sir — Otto and his uncle and aiuit, 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. 88 THE PRIME MINISTER 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 mj' didiculty 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 ? THE PRIME MINISTER 89 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 wi'iting 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.] Yon lie ! 3targaret Schiller is here ! You are Margaret Schiller. •^S)^ [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. 90 THE PRIME MINISTER Sir Robert. [In tozcering 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 miser- able 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 returiis.] 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 I 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 acci- THE PRIME MINISTER gi dental circumstance to worm my way into this house. I did prey upon the weakness and alfcction 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. [Rimig, 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 wth 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 I 92 THE PRIME MINISTER 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 yoimg 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 THE PRIME MINISTER 93 Sir Robert. [With imlhering scorn.] Your word of honour 1 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 liim 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 94 THE PRIME MINISTER 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 zvrth horror.] Do you mean that — that their Zi7;es 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 THE PRIME MINISTER 95 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 xvild 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 j^ou 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 ? 96 THE PRIME MINISTER 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. RIargaret. 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 loj^al 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 weak- ness and temptation, to the merciless threats of the THE PRIME MINISTER 97 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, Mar- garet 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 I 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 G 98 THE PRIME MINISTER be as sacred to me as my heart's blood. And if ever a woman like me can do anj'thing 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 jstands ivith head down, like a criminal awaiting her sentence. Sir Malcolm. Are you quite satisfied, sir ? [There is a tnoment of breathless silence. Then Sir Robert takes up telegram and memo- randum, 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 bozvs himself out. The door is closed. THE PRIME MINISTER 99 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 \vnll 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 tempta- tion should come, remember that not with bread, but with blood I have bought your soul. [She stands for a moment as if struggling zvith a desire to kneel and kiss his hand. Then (as with the scorching memory of all that loo THE PRIME MINISTER has happened) she covers her face and goes out with smothered sobs. [Sir Robert closes door behind her and comes doTvn 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 dnwis outside. CURTAIN THIRD ACT Scene. — Apartment of Dr. Gottfried Schiller in Soho Square. Same as before. It is night. Cut' tains are draztm. Only one electric lamp burn- ing on table. Rest of room in shadoxc. About the table seven men are seated. At back sits Dr. Schiller, xvith Fritz, Hoffmann, etc., on either side of him. As the curtain rises their heads are raised and turned half aside, as if listening. There is a low rumble of guns imthout. Otto stands by one of the windows, holding a curtain slightly aside as if looking out through a narrow aperture. The tumbling dies away. Fritz. [In a tone of relief and bitter satisfaction.] That's the end of it. The damnable barrage is over. They've gone — escaped ! Otto. [Turning back into the room.] Not before one of them has been brought down though. Others. [Alarmed,] Brought down ? lOI I02 THE PRIME MINISTER Otto. In flames. I've just seen it fall. Others. In flames ? Otto. A flaming ball of fire. [A low murmur, half moan, half growl. Doctor. God pity the poor brave souls who have perished in it ! Fritz. And God punish the incarnate fiends who killed them ! [The sound of cheering comes from without — faint and far away— as if the whole city w-ere shouting in joy.] Listen ! Shouting, cheering, rejoicing 1 Hoffmann. Yet we are " the barbarians " ! [Derisive laughter about the table. Doctor. Come, let us get on then. Has Margaret arrived ? Otto. Not yet, sir. Doctor. Where are your aunt and Freda ? Otto In auntie's bedroom. THE PRIME MINISTER 103 DOCTOU. Let them stay there. You told them to send Margaret in to us as soon as she came ? Otto. Yes. One of the Men. But will she come ? Fkitz. Certainly she will. Second Man. How long has she been in the house of the British Minister ? Fritz. Two months to-morrow. Second Man. What have you heard from her in the meantime ? Fritz. Nothing. Others. Nothing at all ? Fritz. We're not worrying about that. Margaret has been awaiting her chance — watching her opportunity. First Man. Then how do you know she'll come back to-night ? Fritz. Her brother saw her this morning. She gave him her promise. I04 THE PRIME MINISTER Doctor. Tell them what passed, Otto. Otto. It was in the Park. I had been waiting to see if she would come out for her usual walk. At last she came. She pretended not to see me, so I stepped up to her. " Leave me," she said. '* I can't speak to you." Others. Ah! Otto. I thought she was afraid of being seen from the windows of the house, so I fell back a step or two and spoke to her from behind. Hoffmann. What did you say ? Otto. " The Council of the Club are to meet to-night," I said. " They want you to be present." " I can't listen to you," she answered. " It's urgent — impera- tive. You must come," I said, and still she tried to get away. Others. So? Otto. But when I said the Club was to meet as a Court to try the Minister, and it would be life or death to him, she consented. '* At what time ? " she asked. "Nine o'clock," I told her. "I'll be there," she said. THE PRIME MINISTER 105 First Man. It's nine now. Fritz. Then she'll be here presently. Hoffmann. Unless the raid has kept her baci Fritz. Margaret ? Not likely. Second Man. You are sure she'll do what we want of her ? Doctor. Absolutely sure. She hates the man ; loathes him ; would give her life to wipe him out. First Man. Do you propose that the girl herself then Doctor. No — that's work for one of us. But Margaret must know the Minister's house by this time. Her help is necessary — essential . Second Man. Will it be to-night, doctor ? Doctor. Yes, to-night. Second Man. It*8 Christmas Eve, remember. io6 THE PRIME MINISTER Doctor. So much the better ! \ATiile these hypocritical English are praying in their churches and singing their Christmas carols in the streets the bolt will fall. [Sound of bugles passing through the streets. Again the men listen. Hoffmann. The " All Clear ! " {Tliere is a loiv murmur 0/ derisive voices about the table. Doctor. Silence ! {All quiet.] Comrades, we have tried Robert Temple for infamous crimes against our people, our country, and the peace of the world, found him guilty and worthy of death. [A low murmur of assent.] But one thing more remains still to be done — to select the person who is to execute our sentence. Hoffmann. Let us leave that to destiny. Others. Yes — let us draw lots. Doctor. Good ! The man to whom the lot falls will be our right hand, and must be treated accordingly. If he succeeds avc must shield and protect liim. If he fails — no matter from what cause — his life must be forfeit to the rest. Is that agreed ? THE PRIME MINISTER 107 Others. Agreed ! Doctor. [Raising his hand.] Swear it then — you and each of you, in the name of the Fatherland and in the presence of the ever-Hving God ! Others. [Raising their hands.] We swear it 1 Doctor. Fritz — the counters. [Fritz rises, takes something from sideboard and throzvs it on table.] In this bag are eight counters — a counter for each of us here present. Seven are black, the eighth is white. The man who draws the white counter will be the one to whom the lot has fallen. Put out the light. [The light is switched off. In the darkness Dr. Schiller's voice is heard.] Now, rise and draw. [There is a moment of silence, with movement at the table.] Put up tlie light. [The light is flashed up. The men, who are all on their feet, look at their counters. Seven of them throw their counters, zvhich are black, on the table. The eighth man stands zvith the white counter in his hand. It is Otto.] [Gasjnng.] Otto ! My brother's son ! [There is a moment of painful silence. Then Dr. Schiller recovers himself.] Our proceedings are at an end. Leave the rest to me, comrades ! Let everybody else go home and do as intended. [The company break up and go out by door on r. As each passes Otto he shakes his hand in silence.] Good night ! io8 THE PRIME MINISTER Others. [Going.] Good night ! [As the men pass out, the door on l. opens and Margaret enters. She is very pale and seems to take in everything at a glance. Fritz. Margaret ! My dear Margaret ! You have come in the very nick of time. Doctor. [After shutting door on n.] Yes, in the very nick of time, my child. Fritz. Come, sit down, Margaret. Sit ! Sit ! [She allows herself to be led to a chair r. of Otto, who continues to stand back to table.] What a splendid idea of yours to go into the Minister's house in place of Freda ! We were all against it, but we were wrong. You alone were right, but you didn't know how right you were. Tell her, father. Doctor. [Sitting L. of Margaret.] Listen, my child ! The Council of our Club has just separated. You know why we met ? Margaret. I know what Otto told me this morning. Doctor. About the English Minister ? THE PRIME MINISTER 109 Margaret. Yes. Doctor. That's it. While you have been away this brutal war has been going from bad to worse. Whole towns, cities, provinces, continents swept utterly away. The world has never before seen the like of it. Destruc- tion and desolation everywhere — in the land, in the air, on the sea, under the sea. It is too much. Flesh and blood cannot bear any more. Our country wants peace — an honourable peace and the reconcilia- tion of the peoples. The English want peace, too, but their Minister will not permit of it. We must all be crushed first, ruined, exterminated. Margaret. [Breathing hard.] Well ? Doctor. Well, if our people are not to be wiped out of the world this enemy must himself be wiped out of it, and therefore Margaret. [As before.] Yes ? Doctor. Therefore our Club has tried him, found him guilty, and — sentenced him to death. Margaret. [Rising.] Death? Doctor. [Dratving her down.] Strong hearts do not shrink from acts that are necessary, Margaret. Our Coimcil no THE PRIME MINISTER did not shrink. It nominated one of its members to carry out its sentence, and now — nothing remains but to call in your help, my child. Margaret. [Catching her breath.] Mine ? Doctor. Yes, yours. [Getting closer.] You've been two months in this man's house, and must know all his habits by this time. But we know something, too. He goes out for a walk on the Embankment every night about eleven — isn't that so ? Margaret. [Stammering.] It — it may be. Doctor. Before he returns the household has gone to bed, and he lets himself in with a latch-key — doesn't he ? Margaret. Perhaps — perhaps he docs. Doctor. After leaving his coat and hat in the hall he returns to his own room and usually sits there alone for half an hour longer ? Margaret. [Breathing hard, listening intently.] Well ? Doctor. [In a low voice, zvith an awful significance.] The person appointed to carry out our purpose must be THE PRIME MINISTER XII waiting in that room when the Minister comes back to it. Margaret. But how is he to Doctor. How is he to get there ? Listen. The front of the house is to the street, and that is guarded day and night. But the back is to the garden, and has a door to the Park, hasn't it ? Margaret. Well ? Doctor. Somebody who lives in the house must obtain the key of that door, open it, and unfasten one of the windows. That's what you have to do, Margaret. Margaret. [With a faint cry.] I ? Doctor. [Feverishly.] Hush ! Your aunt is in the next room. She is nervous and difficult. But you are not like other women, Margaret. There's nothing to be afraid of either. All you have to do is to come downstairs after the butler has gone to bed, unfasten the catch of the window, unlock the garden dnor, and then — go back to your room. Margaret. [Emphatically.] I'll not do it ! Fritz and Doctor, You'll not I 112 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. [Yet more emphatically.] I'll not do it ! Doctor. [Bewildered.] But I don't understand. Wasn't it for just such an opportunity of punishing this enemy of our people Fritz. Yes, of dragging him down and destroying him Margaret. But to take a man like that — in the middle of the night, too Doctor. My dear child, would you have us take him on the Embankment, when he is out for his walk, under the eyes of his worshippers and followed by his police ? The person who attempted to do that would be stopped, seized, perhaps torn limb from limb. No, there is only one safe way to carry out our righteous judgment on this monster who is preventing peace — to strike him down as by an unseen hand, when he is in the privacy of his own room, alone. Margaret. But that is assassination ! Doctor. [Still more feverishly.] Even assassination is justifi- able when it is necessary. Mercy, humanity, pity — we must wipe them all out now. War is war, and if a nation is to live THE PRIME MINISTER 113 Margaret. Then war is of the devil, and the nation that cannot live without crime deserves only to be damned. Doctor. [Lifting both hands to her.] Ach, Gott ! Is it your father's Fatherland you are speaking of? Fritz. [Intervening.] Leave her to me, father. I begin to understand. [Dr. Schiller goes up ; Fritz turns to Margaret.] Margaret, when you went into the Minister's house two months ago you hated him with the bitterest hatred. Has anything happened since to change your feeling towards the man ? Margaret. Yes, what has happened since is- Fritz. What ? Margaret. . . . That now I see that wars are not made by the peoples who suffer most from them, but by their ruthless masters and rulers, and that the statesman of the other nation Fritz. [Impatiently.] Never mind the statesman. I said the man. Has anything happened since to change your feelings towards the man ? M H4 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. Yes, that too — for now I know that he is not the heartless monster I supposed him to be, but a tender father, an affectionate friend, a noble and generous Fritz. [With a crack of hitter laughter.] As I thought ! I warned yoti that a man like that might take advan- tage of a young girl, a beautiful girl — But is it possible that exactly the reverse has happened — that you have fallen into your own trap — become his worshipper, his slave, his plaything ? Margaret. [Leaping up and lifting hands as if to strike him.] Fritz ! [Recovering herself.] But no matter ! / will not do it. [Fritz goes up, laughing bitterly. Dr. Schil- ler comes down again, his voice quivering, his hands trembling. Doctor. No, no, don't say that, Margaret. Fritz is to blame — much to blame. He is mad with jealousy, and doesn't know what he is saying. But come, let us sit down and talk reasonably. [He draws Margaret back to her seat and sits beside her.] Listen again, my child. I speak to you as a father. In his personal character this man Temple may be all you say. But in his public character he is a merciless tyrant. So, as an act of righteous retribution, to save our people from further suffering, and put an end to this miserable ■war THE PRIME MINISTER 115 Margaret. But it won't. It will prolong it. It is murder. Doctor. [Severely.'] Murder or no murder, our Council has decided that it is necessary to be done. It has appointed one of its members to do it, and expects you to help him. And if you don't, if you refuse — do you know what you will be doing ? You will be putting yourself into the position of a traitor. Margaret. I can't help that, uncle. Doctor. More than that — you will be putting the other person into the position of a traitor, too. Margaret. I can't help that either. [Looking round at Fritz.] The man who is willing to commit murder is a murderer, and deserves all that comes to him. Doctor. [Rising in anger.] God in heaven, what are you saying ? You went out to avenge your people — have you remained to become their scourge ? Fritz. [Coming down again.] But don't you see how it is, sir ? She thinks I am the person appointed. Shall I tell you who it is, Margaret ? Shall I ? [Margaret, catching his meaning, looks round to where Otto is stilt standing in silence by the table, fumbling the white counter. Ii6 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. [In a breathless ichisper.] You don't mean — Otto ? Fritz. Yes, Otto — your brother Otto. Margaret. [Dazed, stunned.] You say that your Council has chosen Otto Fritz. Chosen is not the right word for it, Margaret. We drew lots, Margaret. But this is impossible — incredible. A boy — twenty years of age — While you grown men — Uncle, tliis cannot be. Doctor. It can and must, Margaret. Since destiny has chosen your brother to do this work for his Father- land, he must do it. Margaret. And you ask me to help him ? Me ? [Her voice breaks.] You know what I've been to Otto since mother died. " Take care of Otto," she said, and I promised her I would. I've done it, too, putting everji^hing else aside. And now you ask me to help him to commit this crime — to run the risk of prison, the dock ! [Hotly.] I won't do it ! More than that, I will see that Otto doesn't either. Fritz. And pray liow will you manage that ? THE PRIME MINISTER ny IVLVR CARET. Never mind how. I will — you'll see I will. Fritz. Do you mean that you'll warn the Minister ? Margaret. [Fiercely.] Why shouldn't I ? Since his life is in danger, why shouldn't I ? Fritz. [With triumph.] There you are ! What did I tell you, sir ? Doctor. No, no ! Margaret doesn't understand. Listen to me again, my ehUd. It is you who will be rimning the risk. You cannot warn the Minister without incriminating yourself. You will have to give him the source of your information — and what will that lead to ? The revelation of your own identity — who you really are, what you intended to do when you went into his house two months ago, and why you came here to-night. Margaret. [By a sudden memory of her oath, putting her hands over her face.] Oh ! Oh ! Doctor. Otto, too ! How can you warn the Jlinister without incriminating Otto also ? He will be arrested on your information — tried, condemned, imprisoned, perhaps put to death ? ii8 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. [As before.] Oh ! Oh ! Doctor. You think you would be saving your brother's life. My poor child, you would be taking it — deliberately taking it. Margaret. Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! Doctor. No ! When you went into the Minister's house you took a step from which there was no return. It was destiny. And if destiny has marked out Otto for this sacred task of ridding the world of a tyrant, why should you keep him back from it ? Margaret. [Recovering herself and throwing up her head.] Because I must ! Fritz. [Laughing bitterly.] If you dare ! Margaret. Oh, you can't frighten me with what will happen to myself. Perhaps I have other reasons than you know of for not wishing Sir Robert Temple to find out that I've deceived him, but since it is necessary that he should know, he shall know. You can't frighten me about Otto either. If the worst comes to the worst it is better that he should be punished for consenting to commit a crime than for committing it. But he will not be punished. The Minister will THE PRIME MINISTER 119 protect him. You think he won't, but he will. I know he will ! I came here to-night to save his life Fritz. What ? Margaret. Yes, to save his life — that was why I consented to come when I saw Otto in the Park this morning. And [moving towards door] now I'm going away with another motive — to save my brother's life as well. Fritz. [Going up.] Lock the door. Don't let her go. Margaret. Ah, you'll lock me in, will you, when I'm going out on an errand of justice and mercy ? That's worthy of you ! Fritz. What ? Margaret. Worthy of you and of the nation you belong to. Fritz. What do you say ? Margaret. A nation that has lost all sense of right and wrong, all honour in peace and all chivalry in war. Doctor. Then you are a traitor. 120 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. No, no, I am no traitor. I was born here. My father was naturaUzed. I am an EngUshwoman. This is my country. Doctor. [After a dead pause.] Your country is where the graves of your kindred are. How many of yours are here ? Only one, and where is it ? Under the earth of a prison yard. Margaret. [With a gasp.] Oh ! Oh ! Doctor. [Following her up.] Besides, there is something else — something you don't know even yet. Margaret. What ? Doctor. Before we drew the lots we took an oath. Margaret. An oath ? Doctor. That if the one to whom the lot fell should fail to carry out his duty his life should be forfeit to the rest. Margaret. [With horror.] Then it's the Minister's life, or Otto's ? THE PRIME MINISTER lai Doctor. [With intense significance.] Yes. Choose — which is it to be ? Margaret. Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! [Otto, who has not moved during the foregoing scene, now steps to Margaret's side. Otto. [In a low, quivering voice.] Margaret, there is some- thing you have forgotten — this man Temple killed our father Margaret. Otto ! Otto. Killed him by a false charge, a false trial, and a false imprisonment. Margaret. [Hesitating.] But, Otto Otto. [With a xvild look of exultation.] Therefore he deserves his death. It will not be crime, but justice. Margaret. Otto, I must confess Otto. It is for us to do it, too — his children. Fate has put it into our power to avenge our father's death, and we must avenge it. 122 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. But, Otto, my dear Otto Otto. You must let me into that house to-night, Margaret, and then I — I will do the rest. Margaret. ' [Getting close.] No, no ! "UTiat has been going on here has excited you — intoxicated you. You are not yourself to-night, Otto. You mustn't listen to what they say at the Club. This lust of crime is madness — insanity. It would overwhelm the world with dark- ness — Besides, it is all a mistake. Otto. What is a mistake, Margaret ? Margaret. About our father. His trial was in secret, and we never knew the truth. Otto. And what is the truth ? Margaret, He pleaded guilty. Otto. Guilty ? Margaret. Yes. He said he had never wished to do what he had done, but he had been threatened with the loss of his consulate — with beggary. So for his children's sake THE PRIME MINISTER 123 Otto. Who told you this, Margaret ? Margaret. The Minister himself. And when our father was condemned to death he got his sentence commuted to imprisonment. Otto. And you believe that story — that our father pleaded guilty, and the Minister saved his life ? Margaret. Oh, but it's true. I know it's true. Otto. How do you know it's true, Margaret ? Margaret. Because — if I could only tell you something — I will — I must — because — he saved my life also. Otto. Saved your life ? Margaret. [In quick xvhisper.] Yes, he found out who I was before I had been an hour in his house, and when the police came to arrest me he kept me out of their Iiands. Otto. Kept you out of their hands ? Margaret. Yes, and allowed me to remain in the name I had assumed when I went there. 124 THE PRIME MINISTER Otto. He knows you are not Freda Michel, but Margaret SchiUer ? Margaret. [As before.] Yes, but nobody else knows — nobody whatever. Otto. Then it is a secret between you ? Margaret. Yes, a secret, and he has kept it to this day. Otto. He found you out before you had been an hour in his house, yet he allowed you to remain ? Why did he allow you to remain, Margaret ? Margaret. He trusted me. He is so good, so great-hearted. Otto. A Minister ! At your first meeting, too, and after you had come to him in a false character ! Margaret. Oh, but he is wonderful. He knew I shoidd keep my word. Otto. What word, Margaret ? Margaiiht I gave him a promise. THE PRIME MINISTER 125 Otto. What promise ? Margaret. [Hesitatingly.] That I should cut myself off — But you must not ask me that, Otto. Otto. What promise, Margaret ? Margaret. Some day I shall be able to tell you, but you must trust me now. Otto. Otto. Good God ! What has been going on in that house wliile you have been away ? Margaret. Otto, you are not suspecting me, are you ? Surely you don't think Otto. I don't know what to think, Margaret. Margaret. We have been such good friends, you and I, Otto, especially since mother left us, and if I thought you could believe Otto. [Not listening to her.] You are nothing to this man, are you, Margaret ? Margaret. Otto ! Otto. He is nothing to you, is he ? 126 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. [Hesitaiing.] If I could only tell you something, Otto Otto. One word, yes or no, that's all I ask. He is nothing to you, and you are nothing to him, isn't that so ? Speak ! Why don't you speak ? Is it because you can't ? Margaret. [Drawing herself up.] It is because I won't. Otto. Then it must be as Fritz said, only worse — a thousand times worse. WTien he found you out, and brought the police to frighten you, you sold your honour to save your life. Margaret. [Almost sobbing.] And you say that to your own sister ? Otto. You are no sister of mine, and no daughter of my father either, or you wouldn't have believed the story you've told me — that he was a renegade who gave up his country for the sake of his bread Margaret. [As before.] His children's bread — yours and mine, Otto. Otto. It's a lie — ^just as much a lie as the story you've told me about yourself. [Raging round the room.] Where's my cap ? THE PRIME MINISTER 127 Doctor. [Stepping doivn.] What are you going to do, Otto ? Otto. [Snatching up his cap and making for the door, r.] To find another way — that's what I'm going to do, uncle. I don't want Margaret's help now. I won't have it. That man robbed me of my father, and now he has robbed me of my sister also. I'll meet him on the Embankment. They may tear me to pieces if they like Doctor. [Intervening.] No, no ! Margaret. Wait ! Doctor. Yes, wait ! Give her time, Otto. I^t her think. Margaret. It's the Minister's life, or Otto's, is it ? Doctor. It is. Margaret. If Otto fails to carry out your purpose, his life will be forfeit — isn't that so ? Doctor. That is so. Margaret. No matter how far he may fly away, his fate will follow him — he can never escape from it ? 128 THE PRIME MINISTER Doctor. Never ! INIargaret. Sooner or later your ovm. club will — will kill him ? Doctor. Yes. Margaret. And I — if I persuade or prevent him — I will be treated accordingly ? Doctor. You will. Margaret. And you, too — if you attempt to evade the death to which you have been told to doom the Minister — you will expose yourselves to your own deaths instead ? Doctor. We shaU. Margaret. Then we are all slaves ! Doctor. Margaret ! Margaret. Bound slaves of the powers above us ! Fritz. Blasphemy ! Blasphemy against our King and Kaiser ! Margaret. [Pointing to the portrait of the Kaiser.] Yes, your King and Kaiser — that's it ! That's the root of ever3i;hing when I come to think of it — not what I thought it was two months ago. We must comnait THE PRIME MINISTER 129 any sin, cover ourselves with infamy, become the pariahs and lepers of the earth to uphold the throne of this tyrant, this criminal. Doctor. [Itidignantly.] Margaret ! Margaret. Millions of mothers must lose their sons, millions of wives must lose their husbands, and millions of little children must lose their fathers ; the whole world must weep and bleed to death ; but what matter — [Laughing bitterly] — what matter if it adds to his power and glory ? Doctor. Margaret ! Margaret. My father, too — my poor, dear father — must be threatened — intimidated — starved Doctor. Margaret ! Margaret, [In a paroxysm of passion.] And now Otto — Otto must commit this crime before Gk)d and man ; and I must help him ! Or if I don't, if I refuse, you and I and he and everybody . . . [Facing the por- trait.] The devil ! The cruel, merciless, heartless devil ! May the curse of every mother and wife and sister in the world follow him to his grave I [Snatching np ink-pot from table.] Damn him ! Damn him ! Damn him ! [She flings the ink-pot at the portrait, smashing the glass, which falls with a crash. curtain FOURTH ACT Scene. — Sir Robert Temple's house, as before. It is Uie smite night. A slow fire is burning. Other- wise the room is in darkness. The window at back is open, as if to air the room, showing search- lights pulsing in the sky. On r. a Christmas tree can be seen, covered with fairy lamps and toys. The door on l. is ajar, and a streak of light comes out of it. There comes from within the sound of voices. As curtain rises these voices increase. Galloway enters by upper door, r., shuts window, draws curtains, szmtches on electric light, and goes out by lower door, r. Then Sir Robert Temple, with four of the colleagues {one in GeneraVs uniform, another in Admiral's) seen in Prologue, comes out of inner room. The following scene takes place as the men are passing out by loiver door, r. Sir Robert. [Entering and switching on light.] Very well, to-morrow morning, then. Carfax. At what hour ? 130 THE PRIME MINISTER i|i Sir Robert. Ten — let us say ten. DUNDAS. [Nodding.] Yes, ten. Sir Robert. Our great offensive is timed to begin at six. It cannot last long — two hours, I am told, at the out- side. Within two hours the enemy may have some- thing to say to us. Hallam. Another proposal of peace ? Sir Robert. Probably. Their forces are morally and physically bankrupt. They cannot last much longer. DuNDAS. Thank God for that ! — for anything that will end this honor. Flesh and blood cannot bear much more of it. Either the war must stop or humanity will be wiped off the face of this planet. Sir Robert. Let there be no temporizing ^vith evil though — no parleying with a GJovernment whose word cannot be taken. Others. Quite so ! Sir Robert. The ruthless Powers that swept whole continents into this maelstrom of blood must themselves be swept away. i3i THE PRIME MINISTER DUNDAS. [Plaintively.] But the reconciliation of the peoples — isn't that possible ? Sir Robert, Quite possible, but only after the enemy people have got rid of their present masters. Meantime let there be no talk of peace with a Government that has broken down every barrier of law and mercy, Better let us die now — every man, every woman, every child. Others. [Going.] To-morrow morning, then ! Sir Robert. [Touching bell.] To-morrow morning ! [Galloway opens door, lower r. The three men go out, and Sir Robert goes to desk. [At the same moment Lady Dorothy, carrying a small basket of toys, etc., enters by upper door, r., and comes down to Christmas tree. Lady Dorothy. Pardon me, Robert. Freda is out to-night, and I should like to fix these toys on to Peggy's Christmas tree. [Dtiring following scene she is busy at the tree, hanging the toys. Sir Robert is taking letters from a letter-basket, glancing at and signing them. THE PRIME MINISTER 133 Sir Robert. [At desk.] Freda is out, you say ? Lady Dorothy. {At tree.] Yes, out for the evening. She has filled the child with such wonderful stories of what Christ- mas trees are like in her country, that goodness knows if the little minx won't come creeping down in the night to see if the angels have lit up hers for her. [She sivitches up the lights of the Christmas tree.] There ! Isn't that beautiful ? Sir Robert. [Absently.] Beautiful ! [As if reflecting.] Has Miss Michel ever been out at night before, Dorothy ? Lady Dorothy. [Sivitching off lights and going on as before.] Never. But it's Christmas Eve — she wanted to see the shops and the streets, I suppose. Sir Robert. [Relieved.] Ah ! Lady Dorothy. She promised to be back in time to put Pegg>' to bed, though, and it was a terrible business to get the child off without her. I had to agree that at mid- night the maids should walk in procession through the house, carrying fairy lamps and singing Christmas carols. Sir Robert. Walk in procession through the house ? 134 THE PRIME MINISTER Lady Dorothy. Another of the customs of Freda's country, it seems. Ah, Christmas is the children's festival 1 Isn't it pitiful to think that even in the enemy country children as young and innocent as our Peggy may have said a prayer for peace to-night. Sir Robert. [A little imeasily.] H'm — yes ! [Having finished his letters Sir Robert touches a bell attached to desk. Secretary, in khaki, enters by lower door, r. Sir Robert hands him the letter-basket. Secretary goes out as he came.] [Rising.] Has Freda any friends to call upon, think you ? Lady Dorothy. None whatever. Except ourselves she hasn't a friend in London. But don't be afraid. Freda is a quiet, modest, unassuming girl, but she's quite capable of taking care of herself, dear. Sir Robert. [Back to fire.] Our little darling is very fond of her, isn't she ? Lady Dorothy. She loves her. We all do. Sir Robert. And yet I seem to remember that when she came here first Lady Dorothy. Oh yes, I know, I thought it was taking a risk to engage somebody we had never seen and knew THE PRIME MINISTER 135 so little about. But [Indicating portrait above mantel- piece] our dear Margaret knew what she was doing, didn't she ? Sir Robert. [Smiling.] Also I seem to remember that you thought she had entered this house with a certain hostile feeling against Lady DoROXHy. [Laughing.] I take that back, too. If she came here with any hostile feeling against you, you have utterly bewitched her. Sir Robert. [Laughing a little.] Tut ! Lady Dorothy. My dear Robert, you don't mean to say you haven't noticed it ? The girl worships you. If you had saved her from death she couldn't be more devoted to you. I do believe she woidd lay down her life for you, and if Enter Galloway, Galloway. General the Lord Burnley to see you, sir. [Lord Burnley enters. He is in GeneraVs uniform. There is a strange mixture of joy and sorrow in the old man's face, voice, and manner. Sir Robert. [Meeting him.] My dear Burnley ! T36 THE PRIME MINISTER Lord Buenley. Lady Dorothy ! Robert ! [They sit.] I was sorry not to be at the Cabinet to-night, but important messages were coming from the Front — I couldn't tear myself away from them. Sir Robert. [Eagerly.] Ah ! Lord Burnley. They were worth waiting for. Sir Robert. Good ! Lord Burnley. The offensive which had been timed for six o'clock to-morrow took place at six to-night instead. There has been a great battle and a tremendous victory. Sir Robert. How splendid ! Lord Burni.ey. The enemy has had a smashing defeat all along the line, and is thrown back over his own frontier. Sir Robert. How glorious ! Lord Burnley. More than that, the Emperor has surrendered. Sir Robert. [Rising, excited.] Then the supreme hour has struck at last ! Thank God ! Thank God ! THE PRIME MINISTER 137 Lord Burnley. The enemy Commander-in-Chief has asked for twelve hours' armistice to propose fresh terms of peace. Our own Commander has given him six. Sir Robert. [As before.'] It is the beginning of the end ! I knew it must come soon ! You have released the report ? Lord Burnley. Yes. It will be all over the world to-morrow morning — before midnight, perhaps. Sir Robert. [Rapturously.] To-night of all nights, too ! What a Christmas greeting ! Already I hear it crackling through the dark air all over Europe ! Already I hear the Christmas bells ringing ! Peace to men, after all the bloodshed and barbarity ! We have a Cabinet at ten in the morning. You must be here, Burnley. Lord Burnley. I shall be. Sir Robert. [Carried away, enthusiastically, with exaltation.] Our work comes now. We must hold the ground the free peoples of the world have won. No more brute force ! No more militarj'^ despotism ! No more of the wail of death that has been echoing round the world ! If it is to be peace it must be worth all the blood and all the tears that have been shed for it by the sons and daughters of this dear land. And it will be — it shall ! 138 THE PRIME MINISTER Lord Burnxey. [Rising, his face full of emotion, speaking with difficulty.] I thought you would like to have the news at once, Robert, so I decided to bring it myself. Otherwise, I might have preferred to go straight home to-night. Sir Robert. [Drawing up, and looking closely at the old man.] Biu-iiley — what is the matter ? Lord Burnley. [With an effort.] Stanley reports— that our Fifth Army fouglit like lions and — died like heroes. Sir Robert. They would ! Why shouldn't they— since they were Englishmen ? Lord Burnx^ey. And that my own son Sir Robert. [Almcst breathlessly.] The Colonel ? Lord Burnley. My only son Sir Robert. Has he Lord Burnley. [After a pause, betiding his head.] Yes. THE PRIME MINISTER 139 Sir Robert. [Grasping the old man's hand.] Forgive me ! If I had known that your son — your only son — had died to win this — victory Lord Burntey. [Bracing himself up.] Why shouldn't he — since he was an Englishman ? Sir Robert. Ah! Lord Burnley. There is one thing I regret, though — he fell through treachery. Sir Robert. Treachery ? Lord Burnley. His next-in-conmiand was of enemy origin. Sir Robert. Enemy origin ? Lord Burnley. Born in London, educated in England, son of a naturalized father. My son and he had been friends from boyhood. Harry used to say, " Lindner would lay down his life for me." Lady Dorothy. [Who has been listening intently.] Ah ! Lord Burnley. Yet he led him into the enemy's ambush. [A faint cry of pain from Lady Dorothy. I40 THE PRIME MINISTER Sir Robert. Let me go home with you to-night, old friend. Lord Burnley. [Bracing himself up.] No, no ! Give me time. I shall be all right presently. Sir Robert. This will be a terrible blow to you, Burnley. liORD Burnley. [Stepping towards door.] It will— it is. I've seen it coming, though. I thought of it in this room on the night we were waiting for the Ultimatum. " Ours is an old family, four hundred years old," I thought, " and my son is the last of us.^ If he goes into this war my line may end— there may be no more Burn- leys." But [Straightening himself to his full height] liberty must go on, civilization must go on, and— England ! Sir Robert. [Deeply moved.] I'll— I'll see you to the door. Lord Burnley. No ! I can let myself out. Good night ! [The old man goes out bravely. The door is closed. There is a moment's pause. Lady Dorothy comes dozen. Lady Dorothy. Oh, war ! war ! war ! Sir Robert. But what treachery ! THE PRIME MINISTER 141 Lady Dorotuy. Yes, what cruel, heartless, fiendish treachery ! Sir Robert. A natural-born British subject, too ! Lady Dorothy, It must have been in the man's blood. When his hour of temptation came the wretched creature couldn't resist it. Sir Robert. [With intense feeling.] None of them can. Haven't they been doing as much all along — all the world over — ever since the war began ? They are working their evil ways in secret now, but if they succeed they'll do it openly. Once let them land on these shores as conquerors and there's nothing before any of us but a dog's life, a dog's death, and a dog's burial. [Moving across the room, then returning.] O God, what a lesson to such of us as have been dream- ing dreams of universal brotherhood — seeing visions of a liberated world — when the enemy rulers have been set aside and we can safely make peace with the people ! Folly ! Madness ! Suicide ! People and rulers are all alike. Only one peace can be made with either of them, and that is the peace of Victory. Lady Dorothy. But there are good and bad in all nations, Robert, and even among our enemies there must be loyal, faithful, unselfish souls Sir Robert. Show me one — one person born of that race who is capable of an act of loyalty, fidelity, self-sacrifice 142 THE PRIME MINISTER Enter Galloavay, lozcer door. Galloway. Sir Malcolm Clark to see you, sir. Sir Robert. [As if startled by a sudden memory.] Ah ! — Bring him in. [Lady Dorothy goes out by upper door, r. Sir ]\Ialcolim enters by lower door. Sir Malcolm. Sorry to make so late a call, sir, but the matter is urgent. [Sitting.] You will remember that when your little daughter's governess came here two months ago I made so bold as to cast doubts on her identity ? Sir Robert. I do. Sir Malcolm. And that after making inquiries of your ovm you gave me to imderstand, in the girl's presence, that you were satisfied about her bona fides ? Sir Robert. I remember. Sir Malcolm. You will also remember that later the same evening you called me back over the telephone, and then told me, in the young woman's absence, that you believed my suspicions to be justified, but for reasons you did not desire to disclose, you wished me to keep a careful eye on her friends, leaving the girl herself to you ? THE PRIME MINISTER 14s Sir Robert. That is so. Sir Malcolm. Sir Robert, I must apologize for what I have been doing since, but it seemed necessary for your protec- tion. Sir Robert. What is that ? Sir Malcolm. Keeping the young woman also under observation. Sir Robert. You have found nothing against her ? Sir Malcolm. Nothing until to-day. Sir Robert. To-day ? Sir Malcolm. This morning she was seen in the Park in conversa- tion with a member of her family, and to-night Sir Robert. [Eagerly.] To-night ? Sir Malcolm. She has been followed to the house she came from. Sir Robert. The house in Soho Square ? Sir Malcolm. Yes. You remember that we suppressed the so- called Goethe Club ? 144 THE PRIME MINISTER Sir Robert. Perfectly. Sir Malcolm. It now meets secretly in the apartment of Dr. Gottfried Schiller. It met there to-night, and was sitting within closed doors, in a darkened room, when your daughter's governess reached the house. Sir Robert. Then you suspect Sir Malcolm. We suspect that it was concocting one of those criminal outrages with which the enemy nation is trying to beat and bludgeon its M'ay through the war. Sir Robert. And you think this young woman— this mere girl Sir Malcolm. We think she is the centre of the whole conspiracy, sir. Sir Robert. What evidence have you ? Sir Malcolm. No direct and definite evidence, I admit. But sufficient to justify us in warning you. The young woman came to you in a false name and character. She has been two months here. She was sent for this morning, and has spent the evening with a group of enemy aliens whom we have good cause to regard with suspicion. The inference seems obvious, sir. THE PRIME MINISTER 145 Sir Robert. What inference ? Sir Malcolm. That she has been watching her opportunity, and now that the time seems to her to be ripe she has returned to say so. Sir Robert. Then you think the outrage, whatever it is, is to be perpetrated soon ? Sib Malcolm. We do. Sir Robert. To-night, perhaps ? Sir Malcolm. Perhaps to-night. Sir Robert. You don't know who is the object of it ? Sir Malcolm. Not certainly. Sir Robert. My child possibly ? Sir Malcolm. Possibly. Sir Robert. Or myself ? Sir Malcolm. More probably. Somebody or something in this house at all events. 146 'THE PRIME MINISTER Sir Robert. Then you think the young woman will come back ? Sir MALCOLai. We think she is sure to come back, sir. She may have come back already. [Sir Robert touches the hell. Galloway enters. Sir Robert. When did Miss Michel return home this evening ? G^lLLOWAY. She hasn't returned yet, sir. Sir Robert. When she comes in let me know immediately. Galloway. Yes, sir. [Galloway goes out. Sir Robert's fau expresses vexation . Sir Malcolm. I'm sorry, sir. Evidently you have thought better of the young woman. You've trusted her. But I thought it only right Sir Robert. [lynpatienily.] Yes, yes ! — Wliat do you wish me to do ? Sir Malcolm. First, to see to it that this person shall hav« no further access to the child. THE PRIME MINISTER 147 Sir Robert. She shan't. Sir Malcolm. Next, to discontinue for the present your nightly walks on the Embankment. Sir Robert. [Impatiently.] Tut ! I can take care of myself. Anything else ? Sir Malcolm. Yes, that you send your manservant away for a Christmas holiday, and allow me to put one of our own men in his place. Sir Robert. No ! — [To Galloway, who has entered at back.] Well ? Galloway. Miss Michel has just come in, and gone up to her room, sir. Sir Robert. Ask her to come down to me at once. [Galloway bows and goes out. Sir Robert rises.] Sir Malcolm, I am indebted to you for your warning, and will take all proper precautions. Sir Malcolm. [Also rising.] Thank you ! Sir Robert. [With emphasis.] If you have sufficient proof of conspiracy against these people in Soho Scjuare let there be no further delay. Arrest them — all of them, to-night, instantly. 148 THE PRIME MINISTER Sir Malcolm. Good ! And the girl ? Sir Robert. Leave the girl again to me. Sir Malcolm. As you please, sir. [He moves towards door, stops.] May I beg of you not to go out to-night ? Allow it to be supposed that you have gone as usual, but remain indoors, sir. Sir Robert. [At desk.] We'll see. Sir Malcolm. [At door.] I have heard the great news that will be published in the morning. Forgive me if I say that your life is not your owti merely at a time like this. It belongs to all of us — to the world. [The upper door, r,, ha&^^opened again, and Margaret has entered. She sees the Chief Commissioner, and looks nervous. Sir Robert. That will do, Mr. Commissioner. Sir Malcolm. [After opening door.] I have made arrangements to remain in my o/Tice all night to-night. A call over the telephone will bring me back at any moment. Sir Robert. Good night, Sir Malcolm ! THE PRIME MINISTER 149 Sir Malcolm. Good night, sir ! [Sir Malcolm Clark goes out, closing the door behind him. Sir Robert crosses to the desk. Margaret makes a few nervous steps fonvord. Margaret. [In a loiv tone.] Galloway says you wish to see rne, sir. Sir Robert. [In a firm voice, facing her.] Margaret Schiller, come here! [The girl flinches, and comes down.] It cannot be necessary that I should remind you of what happened on the night you came here first. After what had become known you gave me your promise — your solemn promise — that if I spared your family and friends, and allowed you to remain in this house, you would never see or hear from them again. Isn't that so ? Margaret. [In a scarcely audible voice.] Yes. Sir Robert. Have you kept your promise ? Margaret. [Falteringly.] I — I Sir Robert. [Severely.] The truth, girl, the truth — have you ? I50 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. [Fainfly.] No. Sir Robert. You have seen them to-night ? Margaret. [More faintly.] Yes. Sir Robert. You have just left them ? ]\Iargaret. [Still more faintly.] Yes. Sir Robert. Then you admit that you have broken faith with me ? [The girl does not answer.] Answer— you admit that you have broken faith with me ? Margaret. [Almost inaudibly.] Yes. Sir Robert. [After an effort to control his anger.] During the two months in whicli you have been living under my roof have I ever been unkind to you ? Margaret. Indeed, no, sir. Sin Robert. Nor any of my household ? Margaret. No. THE PRIME MINISTER 151 Sir Robert. Your secret has been kept, your safety has been secured, your family have thus far remained un- molested ? Margaret. Yes. Sir Robert. Then where is your gratitude, your honesty, your honour ? You have not only broken your pledge to me, but your oath before God. [The girl stands silent, with head bowed.] Why have you broken it ? If you have anything to say, I ask you to say it. You are a woman — I have no wish to be hard on you. There may be circumstances which explain, if they do not excuse, your conduct. Are there ? [Still the girl stands silent.] Has any constraint been put upon you — any compulsion ? IVIargaret. No, sir. Sir Robert, You spoke of a brother — is he ill ? Margaret. No. Sir Robert. You said he was hot and headstrong — is he in any kind of danger ? Margaret. [Hesitating.] No. Sir Robert. Are you in any danger ? [The girl catches her breath.] Your friends — the people Avho encouraged 152 THE PRIME MINISTER you to come here in that false name and character — are they intimidating you ? Margaret. No. Sir Robert. Is there somebody else then ? Have you some other attachment ? Did you go to that house to- night in the hope of protecting the welfare, perhaps the life, of somebody you — you love ? Margaret. [After an effort.] No. Sir Robert. Then in God's name, why did you go ? Have you nothing to say for yourself ? Speak ! Margaret. If I could only do so — but I can't — I can't ! Sir Robert. In that case you compel me to put the worst interpretation upon your silence. You returned to the house of your family and friends in fulfilment of the design — the base and treacherous design — which first brought you into mine. Margaret. [Eagerly.] No, no ! Sir Robert. [Severely.] Don't add falsehood to falsehood, I warn you. It is known to the authorities that your THE PRIME MINISTER 153 uncle's house is a centre of conspiracy in the interests of the enemy country, and that when you got there to-night a number of persons were already assembled. They had sent for you, hadn't they ? [The girl does not answer.] They wanted your assistance, didn't they ? [Still the girl does not ansiver.] What fresh crimes were they concocting ? [The girl continues to stand silent.] Did it concern anybody in this house ? [The girl struggles to control her agitation.] Did it concern — me ? [The girl gasps, but is still silent.] Or was it my young daughter ? Margaret. [In a panic] No, no, no ! Sir Robert. [Catching at her eagerness.] Ah ! So that's it, is it ? And now I remember that when you came here first, you confessed that chief among your objects was that of kidnapping my child in order to punish me ? Is that what you are asked to do now ? Margaret. Oh no, no ! How can you believe it ? Sir Robert. Believe it ? Aren't your countrymen doing as much every day ? Worse — far worse ! And now you — while my little daughter who loves you lies asleep upstairs — on Christmas Eve, too . . . [He points to the Christmas tree. The girl covers her face and sobs.] I don't mind saying this is a blow to me. When I first permitted you to remain here perhaps I was thinking less of showing mercy and forgiveness than of safeguarding the country until the suspicioas 154 THE PRIME MINISTER of the police could be substantiated or dispelled. But you were overcoming my distrust. I was allow- ing myself to believe in you. There were moments when you . . . you reminded me ... of my wife. " This is another of the women," I thought, " who would give their lives for the lives they love." But you are all alike. It is the mad, bad blood in such as you that is deluging the v/orld in crime. God forgive you ! I cannot ! [The girl is still sobbing. There is a short pause. Sir Robert goes up and returns.] Well, you know what I might do. I might hand you over to the police. I don't propose to do that. I propose to — let you off. [The girl utters a CW 0/ joy.] Ah, don't suppose I'm thinking of you. I'm thinking of myself now. I have no wish that all the world should know that I've harboured a woman like you in my house. You must leave it to-night. Margaret. [Catching her breath.] Let me stay until morning, sir. Sir Robert. To-niffht ! Margaret. [Pleadingly.] But if you knew — if I could only tell you why I wish Sir Robert. To-night — now ! M.\rgaret. Let me stay until to-morrow morning, sir, and I promise you — on my sacred word of honour I promise you THE PRIME MINISTER 155 Sir Robert. H'sh, for heaven's sake ! Haven't we heard that before ? [He opens a drazver of desk and takes out a key.] You must leave this house at once. But I have no desire to expose you, and myself, to the questions of the police patrolling in front of it. Therefore take this. [Giving her the key.] It is the key to the garden door. You can let yourself out by the Park. Your belongings shall be sent after you. [Going up.] Now go and make ready. [He opens the upper door, r., for her. The girl stands for a moment trembling, with the key in her hand. Then goes up to door, stops there, turns, makes an effort to speak, then totters out, choking zvith emotion. Sir Robert closes the door behind her, returns to desk and touches bell.] Pity ! A great pity ! [Galloway enters with an overcoat, etc., helps Sir Robert to put them on.] Make up the fire and go to bed. I shall be back soon. Galloway. Yes, sir. [Sir Robert goes out by lower door, r. A nwment later an outer door is heard to clash. Galloway makes up the fire ; brings from inner room on l. a tray contain- ing decanter, glasses, and box of cigars ; lays them on a small table by sofa ; and then switches off the electric light and goes out by door on lower r. [The room is now in darkness, except for the subdued light from the fire. The smaller bell of " Big Ben " is heard chiming a quarter to twelve — six beats. 156 THE PRIME MINISTER [After a moment of silence the upper door on R. is opened and Margaret is seen to return. She is dressed entirely in black, and is carrying the key in her hand. She steps into the room noiselessly, cautiously, fearfully ; listens, then goes to the window at back, and after drawing the curtains carefully, opens it. The Park can be seen outside. It is a clear winters night. [The girl steps out of the window into the garden and disappears. After another moment she returns, closes the window without fastening it, and comes noiselessly down to the desk. There she sivitches on the electric lamp and sits to write. As she writes she catches her breath in an effort to suppress her sobs. Then she picks up her paper and reads, in a low, tremulous whisper. [Reading.^ " Forgive me ! I was com- pelled to deceive you — to deceive every- body. By the time you read this note you will know what I was asked to do, and what I have done. There was no other way. It was either your life — or mine. You are so necessary. I am nothing at all. But I can give my life for the life I love." [The window at the back is pushed open- and somebody steps into the room. It is Otto. Margaret hears him, rises, switches off the light. The boy^s eyes are wild with frenzy. The following scene is played in rapid whispers. THE PRIME MINISTER 157 Margaret. Otto ! Otto. Margaret ! Is this the room ? Margaret. Yes. Otto. He has gone out as usual ? Margaret. Yes. Otto. When does he return ? Margaret. A little before midnight — generally. Otto. You managed to get the key, then ? Margaret. He gave it to me himself. Otto. Himself ? Margaret. Yes, for another purpose. [Shuddering.] It is almost as if Fate had arranged everything. Otto. So it has. Fate has arranged everything. 158 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. Otto, is this necessary, inevitable ? Is there no escape from it ? Otto. Wliat escape shovild there be ? It will be an act of justice and end the war. Margaret. The war will end as God wills it, Otto. Otto. Then there is father Margaret. Father is dead. It will do him no good. - Otto. There's you, too Margaret. But you were wrong about that, Otto. And now that you are out of imcle's house, why not let me tell the Minister and cast ourselves on his mercy ? Otto. [Bitterly.] His mercy ! Margaret, He will forgive you — I'm sure he will. He will see that compulsion has been put upon you, and if you are in danger from the law — Oh, he is-so wise, so generous THE PRIME MINISTER 159 Otto. Don't begin pleading for him again, Margaret. It drives me mad. I hate him ! I hate him ! To kill him will be God's own vengeance. Margaret. Otto, when it's over you must get away quickly. Otto. I shall. Margaret. Uncle, aunt, everybody — you should leave London to-morrow. Otto. We are going to-night — at twelve-thirty. Margaret. Twelve-thirty ? Otto. Yes. we sail for America in the morning. Margaret. But what about passports ? Otto. We found some that father had hidden away. MARG4RET. Father ? It's just as if it had to be — as if every- thing had been arranged beforehand. Otto. Everything ! i6o THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. Otto, I must stay here until all is over. That's necessary, you know. Otto. I know. Margaret. If you get away safely, you must never write or try to communicate with me. Otto. But you are to follow us, Margaret. Margaret. I cannot. The police are still suspecting me. I couldn't get out of the country. Otto. Are we never to see you again, Margaret ? Margaret. [With an effort.] Yes, yes, we'll meet again — some day. Otto, But I can't leave you behind like this, and if it wasn't for Freda Margaret. Yes, you must think of Freda now. Otto. [Louder.] But Margaret THE PRIME MINISTER i6i Margaret. Hush ! It's Christmas Eve. Somebody may be stirring. Otto. What time is it now ? Margaret. [Looking across at clock on mantelpiece.] Ten minutes to twelve. Otto. Go to bed. I don't want to get you into trouble. Which door will he come in by ? Margaret. [Pointing to lower door, r.] This one. Otto. I must have cover. [Indicating Christmas tree.] This will do. He must not see me too soon. Margaret. Otto, if it has to be done — ^let it be done quickly. Otto. It shall be. Margaret. When you hear the front door open and close you'll know he has come into the house. And as soon as this door opens — before he has time to switch on the light Otto. I'U kill him like a dog — damn him ! 1 62 THE PRIME MINISTER Margaret. [After a short pause, in a breaking voice.] We must say good night now. Otto. Otto. Yes, good night ! Margaret. Kiss me, then. Otto. [Kissing her.] There ! Margaret. [Clinging to him.] For the last time, brother. Otto. [Kissing her again, impatiently.] Now go. Lock yourself in your room. Margaret. Good-bye ! Otto. Good-bye ! [She goes out of upper door, r. Otto steps to back of Christmas tree. There is a moment of silence. " Big Ben " strikes twelve. Boom — boom — boom. The fire has fallen low. Then comes the sound of the loud clashing of an outer door. At the next moment the lower door opens and a dark figure is seen to enter the room. There is the flash and report of a revolver. The figure is seen falling heavily on the floor. THE PRIME MINISTER 163 [Stepping from behind Christmas tree, in a low growl of fanatical hatred.] " Sic semper tyrannis ! " [He is going up towards window, when the upper door opens, and Sm Robert Temple enters the room. The two men come face to face. Sir Robert. Who are you ? Otto. [Dazed, appalled.] Where am I ? What have I done ? Sir Robert. [Seeing the figure on the floor, and going down to it.] Out of the way ! What's this ? [He lifts the figure on to the sofa. It is Margaret. She is unconscious. Otto. [Awakening from his stupor and approaching.] Margaret ! Sir Robert. Stand back ! [Opening the overcoat the girl is wear- ing.] Through the lung— internal haemorrhage ! [He rises, goes hurriedly to desk, calls on telephone.] Sir Malcolm — come back at once — fetch a doctor — quickly ! [Putting back the receiver, he sees Margaret's letter. He takes it up and begins to read it.] " Forgive me ! I was compelled to deceive you " [He stops. His face expresses amazement and deep emotion. He reads the rest of the letter to himself. Meantime Otto, in an agony of remorse, has flung himself on his knees by Margaret's side. 1 64 THE PRIME MINISTER Otto. Margaret I Margaret ! What have 1 done ? What have I done ? [Examining her.] Sister 1 Sister 1 No, no, it's not fatal ! She has only fainted. Speak to me 1 One word — only one ! Say you forgive me ! Sir Robert. [Stepping back to r. of couch.] Get up ! Get up, I tell you ! [Otto rises from his knees.] The police are coming. Yom* family and friends have already been arrested. But you are a boy, and for your sister's sake I let you go. Go back to yoiu" masters. Tell them this is what their hate of hates has come to — fallen back on your own head like a boomerang, as all such murderous passions must do. [Otto confronts the Minister defiantly, as if about to say, " Take me. Kill me. Why don't you ? 1 shan't care," then checks himself, and drops his head.] Mad and miserable creature, go I No punishment the law could inflict would be equal to the hell you have created for yourself. Go — go 1 [Otto goes staggering out at back — driven out by Sir Robert. Margaret is seen to be recovering consciousness. Margaret. [Faintly.] Otto ! Otto ! Sir Robert. [Returning to sofa.] Otto has gone. I have let him go. Margaret. [Opening her eyes, trying to raise herself.] You are very good. THE PRIME MINISTER 165 Sir Robert. It is you that are good, Margaret. I know now what you did — what you meant to do. But lie still. The doctor is on his way. Margaret. Poor boy I It was he who drew the lot. He couldn't help himself. It was his life or yours, sir. Sir Robert. And to save both you sacrificed your own ? But you will get better of this. I am sure you will. Margaret. How sweet I How beautiful I There will be peace now — isn't that so, sir ? Sir Robert. Yes, soon, very soon ! To-morrow, please God ! Margaret. Ah 1 To have helped to bring peace a little nearer — how splendid ! How glorious I Sir Robert. [With great feeling, taking her hand.] We are all children of one Father, Margaret. The boundaries of the human heart are wider than the widest empire. Wlien this cruel war is over, and the suffering world is born again [The church bells begin to ring. i66 THE PRIME MINISTER ]Maegahet. [With bright eyes, listening.] Hark ! I hear the peace beUs ringing ! Sir Robert. They are the Christmas bells, Margaret. And this is Peggj''s Christmas tree, and those [Listening to soft voices overhead] are the Christmas carol-singers who were to sing outside her door. IVIaR CARET. [Raising herself.] Will you not give me — the Christmas kiss then ? [He leans over her, and puts his lips to her forehead. [Sinking back, tvith a look of great happiness.] Ah ! How joyful ! Sir Robert. Yes, the world will soon be full of joy, Margaret. Margaret. [Assenting, rapturously.] Full of joy ! Sir Robert. We have only to live and look upward — to the everlasting hope. Margaret. [Raising herself again, as if seeing a beautiful visioti.] The everlasting hope ! Sir Robert. The Kingdom of Peace must soon come. THE PRIME MINISTER 167 Margaret. * [As before.] The Kingdom — the Power — and the Glory! Sir Robert. But lie dovm now. The doctor will be here presently. You will recover. It will be well with you soon. Margaret. [Sinking back with a rapturous smile, but holding to his hand.] Yes, yes, it will be well with me — soon. [The soft voices of the carol-singers swell up overhead. Voices Overhead. " Hark, the herald angels sing, Glory to the new-born King, Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled." [Margaret listens, looking up, and then, still smiling, she closes her eyes. [The voices die dozen. All the church bells of London seem to be ringing a joyful peal. THE CURTAIN SLOWLY DESCENDS , PBINTBD AT THE COMPLBTB PRESS WBST NOBWOOD, LONDON, S.B, "The [Prussian] Officer was one of those good souls who are by nature framed to take hearty interest in all that happens to others, or that others achieve. His rank, tohile condemning him to a hard and insolent calling, and thus encasing him in a coarse shell, had made him yet softer within. In a strict service, where for years everything had mx)ved in the most rigid order, where brazen necessity was the only goddess worshipped, where justice became lia/rshness and cruelty, and the conception of man and humanity com- pletely vanished, his good soul, which in a free and independent life ivould Jiave revealed its beauty and found its existence, was altogether repressed, his feelings blunted and almost reduced to ruin." — Goethe's Wilhdm Meister. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA * ' AT LOS ANGELES THE PRIME MINISTER "The Prime Minister is to me a great play. To show that the most violent enemy may be turned into the most faithful friend by justice and forgiveness, was well worth doing, especially in times like these. It will have a lasting success, because it reaches the most noble and divine emotions, and appeals to all people, everywhere, for all time." Judge Henry Neil (Chicago). "It was a joy to see Hall Caine's Pktme MiNi.STER. Not only is it gripping in interest and engrossing in theme, it is a clarion call to flagging spirits in times like these, and a solace to suffering hearts. It offers a vision of the healing of the world through the only real forces — love and sacrifice." Judge Lindsey (American Mission). ETHEL IRVING as MAEGAEET SCHILLEE in THE PEIME MINISTEE " Ethel Irving's acting fairly electrified the house." — Morning Post. " Miss Ethel Irving played with startling effect, and at the fall of the curtain was again and again recalled." Daily Chronicle. " The denunciation of the Kaiser, ter- minating with the smashing of his picture by Miss Irving, brought down the house." — Observer. " Her acting had a fine and affecting passion. A piece of art of rare quality, of that indefinable spirit which makes acting more than ephemeral." Daily Telegraph. "As fine a thing as she has ever done." Referee. •' It was likea 8uperfeast."-r'> A T\ytr PR Caine - 4405 The prime rnin- P9S is t e r . SOLlTHFRtJ REGIOWL LIBRARY f^AC|UTV AA 000 366 976 9 PR 4405 P93