The Plays of W. E. Henley and R. L. Stevenson

Bertrand. I beg your pardon, I – (Gives papers.)

Brigadier. Your name?

Bertrand. Napoleon.

Brigadier. What? In your passport it is written Bertrand.

Bertrand. It’s this way: I was born Bertrand, and then I took the name of Napoleon, and I mostly always call myself either Napoleon or Bertrand.

Brigadier. The truth is always best. Your profession?

Bertrand. I am an orphan.

Brigadier. What the devil! (To Macaire.) Is your friend an idiot?

Macaire. Pardon me, he is a poet.

Brigadier. Poetry is a great hindrance to the ends of justice. Well, take your papers.

Macaire. Then we may go?

SCENE IV

To these, Charles, who is seen on the gallery, going to the door of Number Thirteen. Afterwards all the characters but the Notary and the Marquis

Brigadier. One glass more. (Bertrand touches Macaire, and points to Charles, who enters Number Thirteen).

Macaire. No more, no more, no more.

Brigadier (rising and taking Macaire by the arm). I stipulate!

Macaire. Engagement in Turin!

Brigadier. Turin?

Macaire. Lyons, Lyons!

Bertrand. For God’s sake.

Brigadier. Well, good-bye!

Macaire. Good-bye, good —

Charles (from within). Murder! Help! (Appearing.) Help here! The Marquis is murdered.

Brigadier. Stand to the door. A man up there. (A Gendarme hurries up staircase into Number Thirteen, Charles following him. Enter on both sides of gallery the remaining characters of the piece, except the Notary and the Marquis.)

Macaire (aside). Bitten, by God!

Bertrand (aside). Lost!

Brigadier (to Dumont). John Paul Dumont, I arrest you.

Dumont. Do your duty, officer. I can answer for myself and my own people.

Brigadier. Yes, but these strangers?

Dumont. They are strangers to me.

Macaire. I am an honest man: I stand upon my rights: search me; or search this person, of whom I know too little. (Smiting his brow.) By heaven, I see it all! This morning – (To Bertrand.) How, sir, did you dare to flaunt your booty in my very face? (To Brigadier.) He showed me notes; he was up ere day; search him, and you’ll find. There stands the murderer.

Bertrand. O, Macaire! (He is seized and searched and the notes are found.)

Brigadier. There is blood upon the notes. Handcuffs. (Macaire edging towards the door.)

Bertrand. Macaire, you may as well take the bundle. (Macaire is stopped by sentry, and comes front, R.)

Charles (re-appearing). Stop, I know the truth. (He comes down.) Brigadier, my father is not dead. He is not even dangerously hurt. He has spoken. There is the would-be assassin.

Macaire. Hell! (He darts across to the staircase, and turns on the second step, flashing out the knife.) Back, hounds! (He springs up the stair, and confronts them from the top.) Fools, I am Robert Macaire! (As Macaire turns to flee, he is met by the gendarme coming out of Number Thirteen; he stands an instant checked, is shot from the stage, and falls headlong backward down the stair. Bertrand, with a cry, breaks from the gendarmes, kneels at his side, and raises his head.)

Bertrand. Macaire, Macaire, forgive me. I didn’t blab; you know I didn’t blab.

Macaire. Sold again, old boy. Sold for the last time; at least, the last time this side death. Death – what is death? (He dies.)

CURTAIN