Entrance hall in the residence of KAY GONDA. It is high, bare, modern in its austere simplicity. There is no furniture, no ornaments of any kind. The upper part of the hall is a long raised platform, dividing the room horizontally, and three broad continuous steps lead down from it to the foreground. Tall, square columns rise at the upper edge of the steps. Door into the rest of the house downstage in wall Left. The entire back wall is of wide glass panes, with an entrance door in the center. Beyond the house, there is a narrow path among jagged rocks, a thin strip of the high coast with a broad view of the ocean beyond and of a flaming sunset sky. The hall is dim. There is no light, save the glow of the sunset.
At curtain rise, MICK WATTS is sitting on the top step, leaning down toward a dignified BUTLER who sits on the floor below, stiff, upright, and uncomfortable holding a tray with a full highball glass on it. MICK WATTS’ shirt collar is torn open, his tie hanging loose, his hair disheveled. He is clutching a newspaper ferociously. He is sober.
MICK WATTS: [Continuing a discourse that has obviously been going on for some time, speaking in an even, expressionless monotone, his manner earnest, confidential] . . . and so the king called them all before his throne and he said: “I’m weary and sick of it. I am tired of my kingdom where not a single man is worth ruling. I am tired of my lusterless crown, for it does not reflect a single flame of glory anywhere in my land.” . . .
You see, he was a very foolish king. Some scream it, like he did, and squash their damn brains out against a wall. Others stagger on, like a dog chasing a shadow, knowing damn well that there is no shadow to chase, but still going on, their hearts empty and their paws bleeding. . . .
So the king said to them on his deathbed—oh, this was another time; he was on his deathbed this time—he said: “It is the end, but I am still hoping. There is no end. Ever shall I go on hoping . . . ever . . . ever.” [Looks suddenly at the BUTLER, as if noticing him for the first time, and asks in an entirely different voice, pointing at him:] What the hell are you doing here?
BUTLER: [Rising] May I observe, sir, that you have been speaking for an hour and a quarter?
MICK WATTS: Have I?
BUTLER: You have, sir. So, if I may be forgiven, I took the liberty of sitting down.
MICK WATTS: [Surprised] Fancy, you were here all the time!
BUTLER: Yes, sir.
MICK WATTS: Well, what did you want here in the first place?
BUTLER: [Extending the tray] Your whiskey, sir.
MICK WATTS: Oh! [Reaches for the glass, but stops, jerks the crumpled newspaper at the BUTLER, asks:] Have you read this?
BUTLER: Yes, sir.
MICK WATTS:
[Knocking the tray aside; it falls, breaking the glass] Go to hell! I don’t want any whiskey!
BUTLER: But you ordered it, sir.
MICK WATTS: Go to hell just the same!
[As the BUTLER bends to pick up the tray] Get out of here! Never mind! Get out! I don’t want to see any human snoot tonight!
BUTLER: Yes, sir.
[Exits Left]
[ MICK WATTS straightens the paper out, looks at it, crumples it viciously again. Hears steps approaching outside and whirls about. FREDERICA SAYERS is seen outside, walking hurriedly toward the door; she has a newspaper in her hand. MICK WATTS walks to door and opens it, before she has time to ring ]
MISS SAYERS: Good evening.
[ He does not answer, lets her enter, closes the door and stands silently, looking at her. She looks around, then at him, somewhat disconcerted ]
MICK WATTS:
[Without moving] Well?
MISS SAYERS: Is this the residence of
Miss Kay Gonda?
MICK WATTS: It is.
MISS SAYERS: May I see
Miss Gonda?
MICK WATTS: No.
MISS SAYERS: I am Miss Sayers. Miss Frederica Sayers.
MICK WATTS: I don’t care.
MISS SAYERS: Will you please tell
Miss Gonda that I am here? If she is at home.
MICK WATTS: She is not.
MISS SAYERS: When do you expect her back?
MICK WATTS: I don’t expect her.
MISS SAYERS: My good man, this is getting to be preposterous!
MICK WATTS: It is. You’d better get out of here.
MISS SAYERS: Sir?!
MICK WATTS: She’ll be back any minute. I know she will. And there’s nothing to talk about now.
MISS SAYERS: My good man, do you realize . . .
MICK WATTS: I realize everything that you realize, and then some. And I’m telling you there’s nothing to be done. Don’t bother her now.
MISS SAYERS: May I ask who you are and what you’re talking about?
MICK WATTS: Who I am doesn’t matter. I’m talking about—
[Extends the newspaper]—this.
MISS SAYERS: Yes, I’ve read it, and I must say it is utterly bewildering and . . .
MICK WATTS: Bewildering? Hell, it’s monstrous! You don’t know the half of it! . . .
[Catching himself, adds flatly] I don’t, either.
MISS SAYERS: Look here, I must get to the bottom of this thing. It will go too far and . . .
MICK WATTS: It has gone too far.
MISS SAYERS: Then I must . . .
[ KAY GONDA enters from the outside. She is dressed as in all the preceding scenes. She is calm, but very tired ]
MICK WATTS: So here you are! I knew you’d be back now!
KAY GONDA:
[In a quiet, even voice] Good evening, Miss Sayers.
MISS SAYERS:
Miss Gonda, this is the first sigh of relief I’ve breathed in two days! I never thought the time should come when I’d be so glad to see you! But you must understand . . .
KAY GONDA:
[Indifferently] I know.
MISS SAYERS: You must understand that I could not foresee the astounding turn of events. It was most kind of you to go into hiding, but, really, you did not have to hide from me.
KAY GONDA: I was not hiding from anyone.
MISS SAYERS: But where were you?
KAY GONDA: Away. It had nothing to do with Mr. Sayers’ death.
MISS SAYERS: But when you heard those preposterous rumors accusing you of his murder, you should have come to me at once! When I asked you, at the house that night, not to disclose to anyone the manner of my brother’s death, I had no way of knowing what suspicions would arise. I tried my best to get in touch with you. Please believe me that I did not start those rumors.
KAY GONDA: I never thought you did.
MISS SAYERS: I wonder who started them.
KAY GONDA: I wonder.
MISS SAYERS: I do owe you an apology. I’m sure you felt it was my duty to disclose the truth at once, but you know why I had to keep silent. However, the deal is closed, and I thought it best to come to you first and tell you that I’m free to speak now.
KAY GONDA:
[Indifferently] It was very kind of you.
MISS SAYERS:
[Turning to MICK WATTS] Young man, you can tell that ridiculous studio of yours that
Miss Gonda did not murder my brother. Tell them they can read his suicide letter in tomorrow’s papers. He wrote that he had no desire to struggle any longer, since his business was ruined and since the only woman he’d ever loved had, that night, refused to marry him.
KAY GONDA: I’m sorry, Miss Sayers.
MISS SAYERS: This is not a reproach,
Miss Gonda.
[To MICK WATTS] The Santa Barbara police knew everything, but promised me silence. I had to keep my brother’s suicide secret for a while, because I was negotiating a merger with . . .
MICK WATTS: . . . with United California Oil, and you didn’t want them to know the desperate state of the Sayers Company. Very smart. Now you’ve closed the deal and gypped United California. My congratulations.
MISS SAYERS:
[Aghast, to KAY GONDA] This peculiar gentleman knew it all?
MICK WATTS: So it seems, doesn’t it?
MISS SAYERS: Then, in heaven’s name, why did you allow everybody to suspect
Miss Gonda?
KAY GONDA: Don’t you think it best, Miss Sayers, not to discuss this any further? It’s done. It’s past. Let’s leave it at that.
MISS SAYERS: As you wish. There is just one question I would like to ask you. It baffles me completely. I thought perhaps you may know something about it.
[Points at the newspaper] This. That incredible story . . . that boy I’ve never heard of, killing himself . . . that insane confession. . . . What does it mean?
KAY GONDA:
[Evenly] I don’t know.
MICK WATTS: Huh?
KAY GONDA: I have never heard of him before.
MISS SAYERS: Then I can explain it only as the act of a crank, an abnormal mind . . .
KAY GONDA: Yes, Miss Sayers. A mind that was not normal.
MISS SAYERS:
[After a pause] Well, if you’ll excuse me, Miss Gonda, I shall wish you good night. I shall give my statement to the papers immediately and clear your name completely.
KAY GONDA: Thank you, Miss Sayers. Good night.
MISS SAYERS:
[Turning at the door] I wish you luck with whatever it is you’re doing. You have been most courteous in this unfortunate matter. Allow me to thank you.
[ KAY GONDA bows. MISS SAYERS exits ]
MICK WATTS: [Ferociously] Well?
KAY GONDA: Would you mind going home, Mick? I am very tired.
MICK WATTS: I hope you’ve . . .
KAY GONDA: Telephone the studio on your way. Tell them that I will sign the contract tomorrow.
MICK WATTS: I hope you’ve had a good time! I hope you’ve enjoyed it! But I’m through!
KAY GONDA: I’ll see you at the studio tomorrow at nine.
MICK WATTS: I’m through! God, I wish I could quit!
KAY GONDA: You know that you will never quit, Mick.
MICK WATTS: That’s the hell of it! That you know it, too! Why do I serve you like a dog and will go on serving you like a dog for the rest of my days? Why can’t I resist any crazy whim of yours? Why did I have to go and spread rumors about a murder you never committed? Just because you wanted to find out something? Well, have you found it out?
KAY GONDA: Yes.
MICK WATTS: What have you found out?
KAY GONDA: How many people saw my last picture? Do you remember those figures?
MICK WATTS: Seventy-five million, six hundred thousand, three hundred and twelve.
KAY GONDA: Well, Mick, seventy-five million, six hundred thousand people hate me. They hate me in their hearts for the things they see in me, the things they have betrayed. I mean nothing to them, except a reproach. . . .
But there are three hundred and twelve others—perhaps only the twelve. There are a few who want the highest possible and will take nothing less and will not live on any other terms. . . . It is with them that I am signing a contract tomorrow. We can’t give up the earth to all those others.
MICK WATTS: [Holding out the newspaper] And what about this?
KAY GONDA: I’ve answered you.
MICK WATTS: But you are a murderess, Kay Gonda! You killed that boy!
KAY GONDA: No, Mick, not I alone.
MICK WATTS: But the poor fool thought that he had to save your life!
KAY GONDA: He has.
MICK WATTS: What?!
KAY GONDA: He wanted to die that I may live. He did just that.
MICK WATTS: But don’t you realize what you’ve done?
KAY GONDA: [Slowly, looking past him] That, Mick, was the kindest thing I have ever done.
CURTAIN
