DONOHUE. You mean an artist?
MASON. Well, I don't paint houses or fences, but I'd hardly call myself
an artist--yet.
DONOHUE. Poor, I suppose? I know you'll pardon that question, won't you?
MASON. Quite all right, I assure you. No, I'm not poor.
DONOHUE. Thank you. (_Turns toward_ WILLIAM, _who is standing back of_
HELEN'S _chair above table_ R.) And you?
WILLIAM. I'm young Crosby.
DONOHUE. I see. Live here, I suppose?
WILLIAM. Certainly, where else should I live?
DONOHUE. I thought perhaps you might be married.
CROSBY (L.C.). He's not, but if he were he'd live with us and--
WILLIAM. No, father. When I marry I've got to have my own home and--
CROSBY. Nonsense. Don't talk like a fool. You'd live here with me and
your mother--and your wife, of course.
DONOHUE. I think perhaps we'd better defer that discussion, gentlemen.
(_He turns toward_ HELEN.) And this young lady?
WILLIAM. My fiancee, Miss O'Neill.
DONOHUE. Well, that finishes that. (_Rises, standing below table_ R.)
MISS EASTWOOD. But, Inspector, you haven't asked anything about the medium?
DONOHUE. Perhaps I don't consider that necessary, Miss Eastwood.
MISS EASTWOOD. But--
DONOHUE. And I'm terribly set on conducting this investigation in my own
way, if you don't mind.
(_Enter_ DUNN _from_ L.
Pages:
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68