The Machine | Page 8

made continually, and I ask if it is true, and I am told that it is a slander. How am I to know? [A pause.] Would you be able to tell me that you know it of your own personal knowledge?
JACK. [Weighing the words.] No; I could not say that.
LAURA. Would you say that you could prove it to a jury?
JACK. I would say, that if I had to prove it, I could get the evidence.
LAURA. What would you say, Mr. Montague?
MONTAGUE. I would rather not say, Miss Hegan.
LAURA. Please! Please! I want you to answer me.
MONTAGUE. [After a pause.] I would say that I shall be able to prove it very shortly.
LAURA. How do you mean?
MONTAGUE. I have been giving most of my time to a study of just that question, and I think that I shall have the evidence.
LAURA. I see.
[She sinks back, very white; a pause; the bell rings.]
JULIA. Who can that be?
JACK. [Springing up.] Let me answer it. [Presses button; then, to MONTAGUE.] I had no idea you were going in for that, old man.
MONTAGUE. This is the first time I have ever mentioned it to any one.
JULIA. [Rising, hoping to relieve an embarrassing situation.] I hope this isn't any more company.
JACK. [To MONTAGUE, aside.] You must let me tell you a few things that I know. I've been running down a little story about Grimes and the traction crowd.
MONTAGUE. Indeed! What is it?
JACK. I can't tell it to you now . . . it would take too long. But, gee! If I can get the evidence, it'll make your hair stand on end! It has to do with the Grand Avenue Railroad suit.
MONTAGUE. The one that's pending in the Court of Appeals?
JACK. Yes. You see, Jim Hegan stands to lose a fortune by it, and I've reason to believe that there's some monkey-work being done with the Court. It happens that one of the judges has a nephew . . . a dissipated chap, who hates him. He's an old college friend of mine, and he's trying to get some evidence for me.
MONTAGUE. Good Lord!
JACK. And think, it concerns Jim Hegan personally.
[A knock at the door.]
JULIA. I'll go.
[Opens the door.]
HEGAN. [Without.] Good evening. Is Miss Hegan here?
LAURA. [Standing up.] Father!
JULIA. Won't you come in?
HEGAN. Thank you. [Enters; a tall, powerfully built man, with a square jaw, wide, over-arching eyebrows, and keen eyes that peer at one; a prominent nose, the aspect of the predatory eagle; a man accustomed to let other people talk and to read their thoughts.] Why, Mr. Montague, you here?
MONTAGUE. Mr. Hegan! Why, how do you do?
LAURA. We stumbled on each other by chance. Father, this is Miss Patterson.
HEGAN. I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Patterson.
JULIA. How do you do, Mr. Hegan?
[They shake hands.]
LAURA. And Mr. Bullen.
BULLEN. [Remaining where he is; stiffly.] Good evening, Mr. Hegan.
HEGAN. Good evening, sir. [Turns to LAURA.] My dear, I finished up downtown sooner than I expected, and I have another conference at the house. I stopped off to see if you cared to come now, or if I should send back the car for you.
LAURA. I think you'd best send it back.
JULIA. Why, yes . . . she only just got here.
HEGAN. Very well.
JULIA. Won't you stop a minute?
HEGAN. No. I really can't. Mr. Grimes is waiting for me downstairs.
LAURA. [Involuntarily.] Mr. Grimes!
HEGAN. Yes.
LAURA. Robert Grimes?
HEGAN. [Surprised.] Yes. Why?
LAURA. Nothing; only we happened to be just talking about him.
HEGAN. I see.
JACK. [Aggressively.] We happen to have one of his victims in the next room.
HEGAN. [Perplexed.] One of his victims?
JULIA. [Protesting.] Jack!
JACK. A daughter of the slums. One of the helpless girls who have to pay the tribute that he . . .
[A piercing and terrifying scream is heard off right.]
JULIA. Annie!
[Runs off.]
HEGAN. What's that?
[The screams continue.]
JULIA. [Off.] Help! Help!
[Jack, who is nearest, leaps toward the door; but, before he can reach it, it is flung violently open.]
ANNIE. [Enters, delirious, her bare arms and throat covered with bruises, her hair loose, and her aspect wild; an Irish peasant girl, aged twenty.] No! No! Let me go!
[Rushes into the opposite corner, and cowers in terror.]
JULIA. [Following her.] Annie! Annie!
ANNIE. [Flings her off, and stretches out her arms.] What do you want with me? Help! Help! I won't do it! I won't stay! Let me alone!
[Wild and frantic sobbing.]
JULIA. Annie, dear! Annie! Look at me! Don't you know me? I'm Julia! Your own Julia! No one shall hurt you . . . no one!
ANNIE. [Stares at her wildly.] He's after me still! He'll follow me here! He won't let me get away from him! Oh, save me!
JULIA. [Embracing her.] Listen to me, dear. Don't think of things like that. You are in my home . . . nothing can hurt you. Don't let these evil dreams take