House by the River Page #2

I should of been with you.

Did you miss me?

Very much.

I...

Wish you hadn't gone out today.

Come on.

Darling, what is it? What's happened?

Well, what is it? What is it?

- It's...

It's nothing. I have a terrible

headache, that's all.

Then we better stay home tonight.

No. No. I'll be all right. Don't worry.

Oh, darling.

Grab the lady by the hand!

Round the lady over there!

And to the sound of 1, 2, 3!

And round that gent from...

Oh I can't anymore, Stephen!

I'm exhausted!

Hell of a party, Sir Whittaker!

At last my favorite dance! -How many

times have you said that this evening?

Four. First time I've meant it.

Stephen, you're wonderful!

- You inspire me!

First your right and then your left!

Meet your partner and give her a swing

and throw them all around the ring!

Oh, that brother of yours is

a real devil! A real devil!

Oh, Stephen! Do you know what'll

happen to me if I drink that?

Why do you think I'm giving it to you?

Stephen! You're the limits.

Well, John. Aren't you

gonna try the punch?

No. I don't feel like drinking tonight.

What's the matter with him?

He seems depressed.

Have you ever seen him when he wasn't?

- That's not nice, Stephen.

It must be very hard to love music

very much and not be able to dance

and to be a part of things.

He could've been a

part of things tonight.

Why didn't he call the

dances? I suggested.

He's just naturally a wet

blanket, that's all.

That's very cruel, Stephen. You wouldn't

have said such a thing if you hadn't had...

If you hadn't had say,

about four too many.

Don't start with me, Marjorie.

I'm sorry.

I'll go see what's wrong with him.

John!

Why are you leaving?

Just what is the purpose of all

this dancing, this drinking?

Don't you understand?

Can't you see what I'm trying to do?

- No!

Well, if anything should ever come out

everyone will remember that we were here

at the party acting in a normal manner.

Well, I think it's repulsive!

Do you think I'm enjoying myself?

- Frankly I do.

Unaware of the fact that I'm protecting

both of us. -Us? -Yes! Us.

You helped me get rid of her didn't you?

Whatever I've done,

you're in it with me.

So I advise you to keep your mouth shut.

Sorry I had to remind you of that.

Come? Come and join the party.

Is that you, Mrs Byrne?

Yes, Mrs Beach.

You shouldn't have

bothered to stay up for us.

Oh, Mrs Byrne.

What is it?

It's Emily.

She's not home yet.

- She's not? -No.

When I first got here I thought maybe

you'd sent her on an errand or something.

She still isn't home.

I'm afraid something's happened.

She's probably with her parents.

No Mr Byrne. She don't get on with them.

She would've told us if she was

going to spend the night with them.

The thing that puzzles me is that

none of her dresses are missing.

How do you know that, Mrs Beach?

She showed me her things when

she first came to us, Mr Byrne.

She didn't have very much.

If none of her dresses are missing she

can't have gone far naked. -Stephen!

I'm not going to sit up and worry about Miss Good Servant Girl who wants to make a night of it someplace.

I'm going to bed.

Wouldn't waste my time reading such

trash if I were you, Mr Byrne.

Since when is the disppearance

of a human being

considered trash, in your

estimation, Ms Bantam?

Since I found out what a

bad name that Emily Gaunt

has given young women

like myself... in service.

Bad name?

- Yes.

That Emily was a proper hussy.

Scatting about, night after night.

Young men followers and

heaven knows what all.

There's no doubt that she was out

with one of her many sweethearts

the night she disappeared.

And she went further than she meant.

But...

You make your own bed

you must lie on it.

Would you like your eggs now?

No, I... I don't care for

any this morning.

Now Mr Byrne, you haven't

eaten proper all week.

Miss Bantam, did you know Emily Gaunt?

No.

But I know them that did.

Seems to me you speak with great

authority about a person you never knew.

Well, Mrs Beach knew her, didn't she?

I happened to be present the day after

Emily, when the cook was questioned.

She didn't give the impression she

believed Emily wasn't a decent girl.

Yes, but Mrs Beach just happened

to overhear Mr Stephen.

And Emily's parents came

worrying around the other day.

Wouldn't you like just one egg?

Emily's parents came to see my brother?

Yes, and he let them have it, he did.

Said they never should have let her work

in an honest house in the first place.

That she was a thief and a

good for nothing trollop.

That's a lie!

Good gracious, Mr Byrne!

Don't shout at me!

It wasn't me that said it.

It was your brother.

It's the truth, John. At first

I didn't believe it either

but Stephen kept after me

to go through my things.

It was Stephen then who

was first suspicious? -Yes.

A whole outfit was missing.

Hat, dress, shoes, everything.

And only yesterday I discovered

that the Oldport earrings

that Stephen had given me for

my birthday were missing too.

Oh, but let's not talk

about Emily anymore.

It's Stephen that I'm concerned about.

I don't know exactly how to say it.

There's such a...

such a peculiar look that comes over

his face when he's talking about Emily.

It almost seems as though

he were actually enjoying it.

As though he... delighted

in her disappearance.

Well, he goes on and on about her.

- Well Marjorie I...

I wouldn't worry about him if

I were you. After all he's a...

he's a writer. The...

The mystery of her disappearance

probably intrigues him.

Oh, probably you're right and

he fancies the whole thing

as a great big melodrama

with himself in the leading role.

He'd like that.

Like the article in

this morning's paper?

I didn't see it. Stephen took it with

him. He left early this morning.

Hadn't they promised to

keep our name out of it?

Well, you can't blame them,

it makes a better story.

I don't understand why they kept their

promise for a whole week and...

then suddenly today

even a picture of Stephen.

I wonder how they got hold of it?

I don't know.

It's...

Why...

There's only one print of

that picture that I know of!

Now, isn't he like a child?

He wanted his picture in the paper.

How do you do, Mr Byrne?

- Mr Miller.

What do you think of the display?

Very attractive.

But, it wasn't up when

I passed yesterday.

No, your brother called me last night

and told me of the publicity

he was expecting in the papers.

And he wanted me to cash in on it.

Thank you, dear boy.

- Oh gee, I'd love to be a writer too.

Well, why don't you try Effie?

Your mother says you're very

good at making things up.

Some of your excuse are

masterpieces of imagination.

Don't you listen to this scoundrel.

Imagination's not enough.

Just the other day I read in a magazine

that a writer must write only

about things he knows.

If he puts down truthfully the things

he's actually experienced,

if they're exciting enough,

he's bound to be very successful.

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