[He takes the photographs, one in each hand, and looks from one to the other, pleased and interested, but without any sign of recognition] What a pretty girl! Very pretty. I can imagine myself falling in love with her when I was your age. I wasnt a bad-looking young fellow myself in those days. [Looking at the other] Curious that we should both have gone the same way.
THE MAN. You and she the same way! What do you mean?
TARLETON. Both got stout, I mean.
THE MAN. Would you have had her deny herself food?
TARLETON. No: it wouldnt have been any use. It's constitutional.
No matter how little you eat you put on flesh if youre made that way.
[He resumes his study of the earlier photograph].
THE MAN. Is that all the feeling that rises in you at the sight of the face you once knew so well?
TARLETON. [too much absorbed in the portrait to heed him] Funny that I cant remember! Let this be a lesson to you, young man. Icould go into court tomorrow and swear I never saw that face before in my life if it wasnt for that brooch [pointing to the photograph].
Have you got that brooch, by the way? [The man again resorts to his breast pocket]. You seem to carry the whole family property in that pocket.
THE MAN. [producing a brooch] Here it is to prove my bona fides.
TARLETON. [pensively putting the photographs on the table and taking the brooch] I bought that brooch in Cheapside from a man with a yellow wig and a cast in his left eye. Ive never set eyes on him from that day to this. And yet I remember that man; and I cant remember your mother.
THE MAN. Monster! Without conscience! without even memory! You left her to her shame--TARLETON. [throwing the brooch on the table and rising pepperily]
Come, come, young man! none of that. Respect the romance of your mother's youth. Dont you start throwing stones at her. I dont recall her features just at this moment; but Ive no doubt she was kind to me and we were happy together. If you have a word to say against her, take yourself out of my house and say it elsewhere.
THE MAN. What sort of a joker are you? Are you trying to put me in the wrong, when you have to answer to me for a crime that would make every honest man spit at you as you passed in the street if I were to make it known?
TARLETON. You read a good deal, dont you?
THE MAN. What if I do? What has that to do with your infamy and my mother's doom?
TARLETON. There, you see! Doom! Thats not good sense; but it's literature. Now it happens that I'm a tremendous reader: always was.
When I was your age I read books of that sort by the bushel: the Doom sort, you know. It's odd, isnt it, that you and I should be like one another in that respect? Can you account for it in any way?
THE MAN. No. What are you driving at?
TARLETON. Well, do you know who your father was?
THE MAN. I see what you mean now. You dare set up to be my father.
Thank heaven Ive not a drop of your vile blood in my veins.
TARLETON. [sitting down again with a shrug] Well, if you wont be civil, theres no pleasure in talking to you, is there? What do you want? Money?
THE MAN. How dare you insult me?
TARLETON. Well, what do you want?
THE MAN. Justice.
TARLETON. Youre quite sure thats all?
THE MAN. It's enough for me.
TARLETON. A modest sort of demand, isnt it? Nobody ever had it since the world began, fortunately for themselves; but you must have it, must you? Well, youve come to the wrong shop for it: youll get no justice here: we dont keep it. Human nature is what we stock.
THE MAN. Human nature! Debauchery! gluttony! selfishness! robbery of the poor! Is that what you call human nature?
TARLETON. No: thats what you call it. Come, my lad! Whats the matter with you? You dont look starved; and youve a decent suit of clothes.
THE MAN. Forty-two shillings.
TARLETON. They can do you a very decent suit for forty-two shillings.
Have you paid for it?
THE MAN. Do you take me for a thief? And do you suppose I can get credit like you?
TARLETON. Then you were able to lay your hand on forty-two shillings.
Judging from your conversational style, I should think you must spend at least a shilling a week on romantic literature.
THE MAN. Where would I get a shilling a week to spend on books when Ican hardly keep myself decent? I get books at the Free Library.
TARLETON [springing to his feet] What!!!
THE MAN. [recoiling before his vehemence] The Free Library.
Theres no harm in that.
TARLETON. Ingrate! I supply you with free books; and the use you make of them is to persuade yourself that it's a fine thing to shoot me. [He throws himself doggedly back into his chair]. I'll never give another penny to a Free Library.
THE MAN. Youll never give another penny to anything. This is the end: for you and me.
TARLETON. Pooh! Come, come, man! talk business. Whats wrong? Are you out of employment?
THE MAN. No. This is my Saturday afternoon. Dont flatter yourself that I'm a loafer or a criminal. I'm a cashier; and I defy you to say that my cash has ever been a farthing wrong. Ive a right to call you to account because my hands are clean.
TARLETON. Well, call away. What have I to account for? Had you a hard time with your mother? Why didnt she ask me for money?
THE MAN. She'd have died first. Besides, who wanted your money? Do you suppose we lived in the gutter? My father maynt have been in as large a way as you; but he was better connected; and his shop was as respectable as yours.
TARLETON. I suppose your mother brought him a little capital.
THE MAN. I dont know. Whats that got to do with you?
TARLETON. Well, you say she and I knew one another and parted. She must have had something off me then, you know. One doesnt get out of these things for nothing. Hang it, young man: do you suppose Ive no heart? Of course she had her due; and she found a husband with it, and set him up in business with it, and brought you up respectably; so what the devil have you to complain of?
THE MAN. Are women to be ruined with impunity?
TARLETON. I havnt ruined any woman that I'm aware of. Ive been the making of you and your mother.
THE MAN. Oh, I'm a fool to listen to you and argue with you. I came here to kill you and then kill myself.
