The Second-Story Man | Page 6

. she was the little one . . . she
never had been very strong. When you're a poor man, you can't get the
best food, even if you know what it is. It ain't fit milk they sell for the
children in this city; and the baby died . . . I never knew what was the
matter exactly. And there was only one left . . . and me tramping the
streets all day looking for a job. How was I to take care of him, lady?
How could I have helped it? [His voice is breaking with emotion.] And
oh, ma'am, he was the loveliest little fellow . . . with hair like gold. And
so well and strong.
MRS. AUSTIN. [Whispering.] What happened to him?

JIM. A street car killed him.
MRS. AUSTIN. Oh!
JIM. Run over his chest, ma'am. I came home at night, and they told me,
and I near went out of my mind. Can you think what it was to see
him . . . with his eyes starting out of his head like, and his beautiful
little body all mashed flat . . .
MRS. AUSTIN. [Wildly.] Oh, spare me!
JIM. I told you it wouldn't be a pretty story. Do you think maybe you
wouldn't take to drink if you saw a sight like that? [Sinking back.]
Since then I've looked for work, but I haven't cared much. Only
sometimes I've thought I'd like to meet that young lawyer . . .
MRS. AUSTIN. [Starting up.] Oh!
JIM. Yes, it all began with him. But I don't know . . . they'd only jug
me. Anyway, tonight I was sitting in a saloon with two fellows that I
had met. One of them was a second-story man . . . a fellow that climbs
up porches and fire- escapes. And I heard him telling about a haul he'd
made, and I said to myself: "There's a job for me . . . I'll be a
second-story man." And I tried it . . . but you see I didn't do very well.
I'm not good for much, I guess, any more.
AUSTIN. [Enters left, revolver in hand; stands watching, unobserved.]
Good heavens!
MRS. AUSTIN. You can't tell. You may have better success than you
look for.
JIM. No . . . there's nothing can help me. I'm for the scrap heap.
MRS. AUSTIN. [Eagerly.] Wait and see. You are a man . . . you can be
helped yet . . .
AUSTIN. [Coming forward.] What does this mean?
JIM. [Starts wildly and reaches for revolver.] Ha!
AUSTIN. [Raising weapon.] Holdup your hands!
MRS. AUSTIN. [Rushing forward.] No. Stop!
AUSTIN. What do you mean?
MRS. AUSTIN. I say stop! I promised him his freedom!
AUSTIN. My dear . . .
MRS. AUSTIN. Give me the weapon.
AUSTIN. Why . . .
MRS. AUSTIN. Give it to me. [Takes revolver.] Now sit down.
JIM. [Has been staring wildly at AUSTIN.] My God, it's the lawyer

fellow!
MRS. AUSTIN. Yes, it is he.
AUSTIN. What does all this mean?
MRS. AUSTIN. Look at this man!
AUSTIN. [Staring.] Why?
MRS. AUSTIN. Don't you know him?
AUSTIN. No.
MRS. AUSTIN. Look carefully. [Turns up light.] Have you never seen
him before?
AUSTIN. Never that I can recall. What is his name?
MRS. AUSTIN. I don't know. [To JIM.] What is it?
JIM. Humph! [Hesitating.] He could find out, anyway. Jim Faraday.
AUSTIN. Faraday . . . it sounds familiar.
JIM. [Grimly.] You've served the trick on a good many, I guess.
AUSTIN. [To Mrs. AUSTIN.] What does he mean?
JIM. Don't you remember the Sisters' Hospital? The fellow that had his
eye burned out in the big explosion?
AUSTIN. [Startled.] Oh!
JIM. [Sneeringly.] Ah, yes!
AUSTIN. You are the man?
JIM. I'm the man.
MRS. AUSTIN. Harvey, you took this man some paper to sign.
AUSTIN. Yes . . . I remember.
MRS. AUSTIN. Did you tell him what was in it?
AUSTIN. [Hesitates.] Why . . .
MRS. AUSTIN. Answer me, please.
AUSTIN. Why, my dear . . .
MRS. AUSTIN. Did you tell him what was in it?
AUSTIN. But, my dear, it wasn't my business to tell him.
MRS. AUSTIN. Oh!
AUSTIN. I was representing the company.
MRS. AUSTIN, I see.
AUSTIN. It was his place to see what was in it.
MRS. AUSTIN. Harvey! This man with one eye burned out, and not
yet over the accident?
AUSTIN. My dear, you don't understand . . .
JIM. [Wildly.] You didn't leave me to find out for myself. You lied to

me!
MRS. AUSTIN. At least you permitted him to be misled. You did not
tell him the honest truth about the paper, and what would be the effect
if he signed it.
AUSTIN.