Thirty Pieces of Silver: A Play in Three Acts (5 page)

DAVID
Why? Because you were listening.

HILDA
(
control covering her mounting anger
) I don't eavesdrop, Mr. Graham. I heard voices in here and then the voices stopped, and from the kitchen I could still see the lights burning. You got no right to accuse me of eaves-dropping. I don't know what you were saying and I don't care what you were saying.

DAVID
All right. I'm sorry.

HILDA
(
taking a deep breath and biting her lower lip before she speaks
) This is a job, Mr. Graham, and I like working for Mrs. Graham, and I like the little girl. But I can find another job if you want me to.

DAVID
Who said that?

HILDA
That's what you implied, Mr. Graham. I don't like to be accused of listening at keyholes. I don't like to be insulted about my friends. I never told Grace to go the front way. Mrs. Graham told her that.

DAVID
(
suddenly losing control
) You can do just as you God damn please, Hilda! Stay or go! The hell with it. This is still my house! You want me to put it more definitely? You're fired! I never could tolerate one of your kind who couldn't keep his place. You understand?

HILDA
(
with great calm
) I understand, Mr. Graham. Good night.

(
She exits through the dining-room.
)

(
DAVID
stands there looking after her. This way for at least thirty seconds. Then he takes off his glasses and rubs his clenched fist into his eyes. He turns slowly, looking around the room, crosses over to the telephone and stares at it. Then he moves forward and drops into a chair and sits there loosely and unhappily. He then rises and turns off some of the lamps. He starts toward the stairs, stops, stands irresolute, then tales out his wallet and extracts a card. Now that the die is cast, he moves more quickly, dialing a number on the phone with nervous concentration. He holds the phone while it rings and then speaks softly.
)

DAVID
(
into the phone
) Hello—Fuller?

(
pause for rejoinder
)

Mr. Fuller, this is David Graham—yes, you remember, David Graham. I'm sorry to call you this late. I'm sorry as hell. But you know how it is when you have something pressing on your conscience. You can't wait for morning. You just can't wait.

(
pause
)

I'm glad you felt that way. I agree with you that duty doesn't punch a time clock.

(
pause
)

Of course. And you understand this isn't an easy thing to do. There are all sorts of connotations to something like this, and it takes some understanding to see yourself as a loyal American doing his duty. I was in the service, you know——

(
pause
)

Yes, of course.

(
pause
)

Yes. Yes. That's a fine way to put it. I wouldn't have thought of putting it that way, Mr. Fuller, but it's true. As you say, it's a morality that transcends morality. That doesn't mean I held anything back. I tried to be as frank and open with you as I knew how, and even now I've got nothing sensational to add to what I told you. That is, nothing that makes for any kind of conclusive thoughts——

(
pause
)

No—of course, I agree with you that you never can be conclusive on this kind of thing. But my wife and I put our heads together …

(
On this
,
JANE
appears on the staircase. She is wearing a dressing gown, and as
DAVID
speaks, she continues down, halting near the bottom and watching him, almost frozen.
)

… and we couldn't help but agree that Agronsky could very well be a Red. You put the pieces together, and it seems to be a reasonable conclusion, anyway, that's how it seems——

(
pause
)

Yes, I'd be fairly definite on it. Naturally, he never told me so. If he had, I would have broken clean. As it is we had practically stopped seeing each other. I couldn't stomach his philosophy——

(
pause
)

Yes—I want to co-operate. Any time you say.

(
pause
)

Good night to you, sir.

(
DAVID
replaces the phone and turns, seeing
JANE.
They stare at each other. Then
DAVID
shrugs and lights another cigarette.
JANE
walks across the room, never taking her eyes off
DAVID
,
until she is opposite the vestibule and facing him. When she speaks, however, her voice is very calm, yet with an undertone of tension.
)

JANE
Do you feel better now, David?

(
DAVID
refuses to meet her eyes. He puffs his cigarette.
)

Cleansed?

(
He walks to the piano, grinding the cigarette into an ash tray. Now his hack is to her. He turns sharply to her, yet remains silent.
)

Purified, David? You shouldn't raise your voice when -you purify yourself. I wouldn't have heard you if you weren't so afraid your friend might miss something you said.

DAVID
For Christ's sake, Jane, leave me alone! I did it. That's all. I did what I thought was right.

JANE
(
with a note of pity in her voice)
You didn't think it was right, David.

DAVID
How do you know what I thought? You're so God damn righteous! You can't be wrong. But whatever I do is wrong.

JANE
No—that's not so.

DAVID
You said yourself nothing I said or did would keep them from thinking whatever they wanted to think about Agronsky.

JANE
Sure I said that.

DAVID
Then what difference does it make?

JANE
(
shaking her head
) My God, David, are you really asking me that?

DAVID
Well, it's done.

JANE
After Agronsky got you the, job. I know what it is to be frightened, David. I've been frightened too, believe me——

DAVID
(
breaking in
) Stop preaching at me! I'm not a child that I have to be preached at this way!

JANE
You're not a child, David.

DAVID
Why do you have to keep beating at it? It's done, isn't it?

JANE
Sure it's done, David. Sure it's done.

(
She goes toward the stairs.
)

Good night, David.

The curtain falls for the end of Act I

ACT II

Scene One

The time is early afternoon of the following day. The place is the office of
AUSTIN CARMICHAEL
in the Treasury Department. This is a fair-sized office, neither very modern nor rich in its furnishings, but with the substantial and well-kept air of a government office occupied by a moderately important executive. The desk is mahogany: the walls are the insipid green preferred so often in Washington. The floor is covered by a grey carpet, and at either side of the desk, which is stage right, cattycorner, are two leather-upholstered chairs. A broad window with Venetian blinds backs the stage, and at one side of it, a water cooler. A leather couch and two straight-back chairs complete the furnishings. A framed picture of the President on the wall at stage right is the only personal picture. There is a framed eagle print and one of those many-figured steel engravings of an early Cabinet meeting. The desk is neat, with few papers, and as the curtain rises, a long slant of sunlight warms the room from the window.

As the curtain rises, the mahogany door at stage left opens, and
AUSTIN CARMICHAEL
enters, followed by
FRED SELWIN
.
CARMICHAEL
is a heavy, middle-sized man of fifty. His fat is less excess than substance. He carries his head a little forward and walks with a slight stoop. His features are large but regular, and his eyes are bright blue under heavy brows. He wears a seersucker suit.
SELWIN
is younger, in his forties, pinch-faced, thin, nervous in temperament.

CARMICHAEL
walks to the blind and tilts it, blotting the sun. His movements are decisive. Then he sits down behind the desk.
SELWIN
stands beside the desk, looking at a file folder.

CARMICHAEL
Let's see it, Fred.

(
He holds out his hand for the file folder, meanwhile examining another paper on his desk.
SELWIN
gives it to him and he opens it and ruffles through it.
SELWIN
drifts across the room.
)

They are a thorough group of people, believe me.

SELWIN
Yes, they make up in efficiency what they lack in inspiration.

CARMICHAEL
Come now—give the credit where it's due. That's a good practice, Fred. Now I'm not one of these damn fool Chamber of Commerce patriots, but you got to admit that when we do a thing we can do it a little better than anyone else.

SELWIN
A lot better, unfortunately.

CARMICHAEL
It's not so unfortunate, Fred, and stop trying to be a two-bit philosopher. You've read this, I suppose.

SELWIN
I read it.

CARMICHAEL
The mere fact that they send it here is an indication of desired action. There's nothing in it particularly damning except that Graham's a fool. I feel kind of sorry for him.

SELWIN
Like hell you do!

CARMICHAEL
(
good-humouredly
) You really think I take pleasure in inflicting—let us say suffering?

SELWIN
To a degree. I suppose it is needful to you.

CARMICHAEL
(
shaking his head
) You're sentimental, Fred. Not good. Not kind. Simply sentimental. My own guess is that at home you're a perfect son-of-a-bitch.

(
smiling at
SELWIN
who stares at him stolidly
)

Don't get sore at that. That's a sop to my own age. I am not sentimental, but I am also never deliberately cruel. That's something you should understand, Fred, for your own good.

SELWIN
(
walking over to the desk
) What are you going to do? Ask for his resignation?

CARMICHAEL
Anything else I can do, Fred?

SELWIN
Don't try to shift' it to me. You're the head of the Department, not me.

CARMICHAEL
I'm always intrigued by morality that holds aloof from action. The dead are always good, aren't they? I repeat—what else can I do?

SELWIN
I don't know. Yet even you will admit that the thing is essentially wrong.

CARMICHAEL
(
folding his arms, leaning back in his chair and smiling
) Even I. You put such stock in your superior morality. I'll bet you're a damn goat, Fred. Always right or wrong. Well, nothing is right and nothing is wrong. There is only the immediate necessity.

SELWIN
And the immediate necessity is so clear?

CARMICHAEL
Quite clear. There is a process. Human beings create the situation that starts that process, but the process itself is quite inhuman. The process is simply necessary so that you and I can continue to draw our pay and do whatever satisfies our respective souls. But don't offer me any abstract morality; there is none.

SELWIN
I wonder what you would do if you had that kind of thing on me?

CARMICHAEL
You can guess, can't you, Fred?

SELWIN
You know it was Phillips who gave Graham the job, and Phillips was a friend of—what's his name?

CARMICHAEL
Agronsky.

SELWIN
And Phillips resigned, didn't he? You were very friendly with Phillips, weren't you, Mr. Carmichael? You saw a good deal of him.

CARMICHAEL
(
the thin, caustic smile returning to his lips
) I don't know whether to be angry or amused. How have you been spending your time, Fred—seeing cheap pictures about the Gestapo?

SELWIN
Thinking, Mr. Carmichael.

CARMICHAEL
So you think, do you Fred? Were you thinking perhaps that you're big enough to tangle with me?

SELWIN
This is not a case of who is big and who is little, Mr. Carmichael.

(
He is tense and white and nervous.
)

This is a new kind of thing. You are going to fire Graham—not because Graham is a Communist——

CARMICHAEL
Give the Communists a little credit, Fred.

SELWIN
—not because he's a Communist, not even because he got the job through Agronsky, but to bolster yourself.

CARMICHAEL
And yourself, Fred.

SELWIN
Leave me out of it, Mr. Carmichael. I'll build my own walls. You never had any conscience. I had a little. You sell Graham cheap. I'll build my own walls.

CARMICHAEL
And you think——

(
He swings back in his chair with hard, convulsive laughter.
)

—you think that you've got me, Freddy. Agronsky was Phillips' friend. I was Phillips' friend. Ergo——

(
He stands up suddenly, his voice low and cold.
)

Shall I resign, Fred?

SELWIN
You don't, frighten me, Mr. Carmichael. You would have once. You don't now. This is a new situation. It has possibilities. I always considered myself a person of conscience Mr. Carmichael. Well, one adapts one's conscience. I never made friends of people like Graham, like Phillips, like Agronsky. A certain fortunate purity, let us say. I'll think about it.