Hannah: _(Whimpering)_ Oh, Noah, Noah, I...

Hannah: (Whimpering) Oh, Noah, Noah, I don’t believe as we shall ever get a large circle of friends round us!

Noah: Now then. (Selecting a pair of handcuffs and examining them critically) Them’ll do. (Slipping them into his pocket and turning on Hannah suddenly) Hannah!

Hannah: Yes, Noahry —

Noah: Add some sparkle, my darlin’, to the little time you have me at home with you.

Hannah: Yes, Noahry. (She bustles about and begins to lay the table.)

Noah: I’m just a-going round to put Samson in the cart.

Hannah: Oh, don’t ye trust to Samson, Noah dear — he’s such a vicious brute. Kitty’s safer in the cart.

Noah: Shut up, darling. Samson can take me onto the edge of the hill in half the time.

Hannah: The hill?

Noah: Why d’ye think I’ve put off taking my man to Durnstone till now? Why, I’m a-going to get a glimpse of the racing on my way over. (Opening the wicket in the cell door and looking in) There he is! Sulky! (To Hannah) Open the oven door, Hannah, and let the smell of the cooking get into him.

Hannah: Oh no, Noah — that’s torture!

Noah: Do as I tell ye woman! (She opens the oven door.) ‘Torture’! Of course it’s torture! That’s my rule! Whenever I get hold of a darned obstinate creature what won’t reveal his identity I opens the oven door! Ha! Ha! Ha!

He goes out into the street, laughing to himself, and, as he departs, the woeful face of the Dean appears at the wicket, his still enveloped in the fur cap.

Hannah: (Shutting the oven door) Not me! Torturing prisoners might have done for them Middling Ages what Noah’s always chattering about, but not for my time of life. I’ll shut that wicket. (Crossing to the door, her face almost comes up against the Dean’s. She gives a cry) The Dean!

The Dean: Oh! (He disappears.)

Hannah: Not my old master! Never the master! (Looking in) Master! Look at me! It’s Hannah, your poor faithful servant, Hannah!

The Dean’s face reappears.

The Dean: Hannah Evans.

Hannah: It’s Hannah Topping, nee Evans, wife of the Constable what’s going to take you to cruel Durnstone. (Sinking upon the ground at the door and weeping) Oh, Mr. Dean, sir, what have you been up to? What have you been up to?

The Dean: Woman, I am the victim of a misfortune only partially merited.

Hannah: (On her knees, clasping her hands) Tell me what you’ve done, Master dear; give it a name, for the love of goodness!

The Dean: My poor Hannah, I fear I have placed myself in an equivocal position.

Hannah: (With a shriek of despair) Agh!

The Dean: Be quiet, woman!

Hannah: Is it a change of cooking that’s brought you to such ways? I cooked for you for seven happy years!

The Dean: (Sniffing) Alas, you seem to have lost none of your culinary skill!

Hannah: Master, are you hungry?

The Dean: I am sorely tried by your domestic preparations.

Hannah: (With a determined look) Oh! (Quickly bolting the street door) Noah can’t tether that brute of a horse in under ten minutes. (Producing a large key with which she unlocks the cell door) The duplicate key of the Strong Box! Master, you’ll give me your word not to cut, won’t you?

The Dean: Under any other circumstance, Hannah, I should resent that insinuation.

Hannah: Don’t resent nothing! Shove! Shove your hardest, Dean dear!

She pulls the door, which opens sufficiently to let out the Dean.

The Dean: (Shaking hands with her as he enters the room) Good day, Hannah; you have bettered yourself, I hope?

Hannah: (Hysterically flinging herself on the Dean) Oh, Master, Master!

The Dean: (Forcing her from him sternly) Mrs. Topping!

Hannah: Oh, I know, I know, but crime levels all, dear sir!

The Dean: You appear to misapprehend the precise degree of criminality which attaches to me. In the eyes of that majestic but imperfect instrument, The Law, I am an innocent if not an injured man.

Hannah: Stick to that, sir! Stick to it, if you think it’s likely to serve your wicked ends!

She places bread and other items on the table.

The Dean: My good woman, a single word from me to those at the Deanery would instantly restore me to home, family, and accustomed diet.

Hannah: Ah, they all tell that tale what comes here! So why don’t you send word, Dean dear?

The Dean: Because it would involve revelations of my temporary moral aberration!

Hannah dissolves into tears once more.

Because I should return to the Deanery with my dignity — that priceless possession of man’s middle age! — with my dignity seriously impaired.

Hannah: (In despair) Oh don’t sir, don’t!

The Dean: How could I face my simple children, who have hitherto, not unreasonably, regarded me as faultless? How could I again walk erect in the streets of St. Marvells with my name blazoned on the records of a police station of the very humblest description?

He sinks into a chair and snatches up a piece of bread.

Hannah: (Wiping her eyes) Oh sir, it’s a treat to hear you, compared with the ordinary criminal class. But listen! I was well fed and kept seven years at the Deanery — I’ve been wed to Noah Topping eight weeks — that’s six years and ten months’ loving duty due to you and yours before I owe anything to my darling Noah. Master dear, you shan’t be took to Durnstone!

The Dean: Silence! Hannah Topping, née Evans, it is my duty to inform you that your reasoning does more credit to your heart than to your head.

Hannah: I can’t help it. (Taking a small key from the table drawer and putting it in his coat pocket) Here, take that! When you once get free from my darling Noah, that key unlocks your handcuffs!

The Dean: Handcuffs?

Hannah: How are you to get free, that’s the question now, isn’t it? I’ll tell you. My Noah will drive you over to Durnstone with old Samson in the cart.

The Dean: Old Samson?

Hannah: That’s the horse. Now Samson was formerly in the Durnstone Fire Brigade, and when he hears the familiar signal of a double whistle you can’t hold him. (Putting a whistle into the Dean’s pocket) There’s the whistle. Directly you turn into Pear Tree Lane, blow once and you’ll see Noah with his nose in the air, pulling fit to wrench his hands off. Jump out — roll clear of the wheels — keep cool and hopeful, and blow again. Before you can get the mud out of your eyes, Noah and the horse and cart will be well into Durnstone, and may Providence restore a young husband safe to his doting wife!

The Dean: (Outraged) Hannah, how dare you?

Hannah turns to him in amazement.

Is this the fruit of your seven years constant cookery at the Deanery?

Hannah: I wouldn’t have suggested it, only this is your first offence.

The Dean: (Aside) My ‘first offence’!

Hannah: You’re not too old; I want to give you another start in life!

The Dean: Another start? Woman, do you think I’ve no conscience? Do you think I don’t realise the enormity of the — of the difficulty of alighting from a vehicle in rapid motion?

Hannah opens the oven and takes out a small join in a baking tin, and places it on the table.

Hannah: It’s hunger what’s holding you back!

The Dean: (Waving her away) I have done with you!

Hannah: With me, sir — but not with the joint! You’ll feel braver when you’ve had a little nourishment. (He looks hungrily at the dish.) That’s right, Dean, dear — taste my darling Noah’s favorite dish.

The Dean: (Advancing towards the table) Oh, Hannah Topping — Hannah Topping! (Clutching the carving knife despairingly) I’ll have no more female cooks at the Deanery! This reads me a lesson. (He starts to carve.)

Hannah: Don’t stint yourself, sir. You can’t blow this whistle on an empty stomach. (The Dean begins to eat.) Don’t my cooking carry you back, sir? Oh, say it do!

The Dean: (With his mouth full) It does! It does!

Noah, unperceived by Hannah and the Dean, climbs in through the window, his eyes wide with rage. He glares round the room, taking everything in at a glance.

Noah: (Aside) The man of mystery — waited on by my newly-made wife — eating my favorite meal.

He places his hand on Hannah’s arm. She turns to face him, speechless with fright. The Dean continues to eat. Hannah tries to speak, then clasps her hands and sinks on her knees to Noah.

The Dean: Hannah, a little plain water in a simple tumbler, please.

Noah: (Grimly, folding his arms) Hannah, introduce me!

Hannah gives a cry and clings to Noah’s legs.

The Dean: (Calmly to Noah) Am I to gather, constable, from your respective attitudes that you object to these little kindnesses extended to me by your worthy wife?

Noah: I’m wishing to know the name of my worthy wife’s friend. A friend of hers is a friend of mine.

Hannah: Noahry! Noahry!

Noah: She’s getting me a lot of nice new friends this week since we come to St. Marvells.

Hannah: Noahry! I made this gentleman’s acquaintance through the wicket, in a casual way.

Noah: Ay. I might have guessed my wedded life would come to this.

Hannah: He spoke to me just as a strange gentleman ought to speak to a lady! Didn’t you, sir — didn’t you?

The Dean: Hannah, do not let us prevaricate — even under these circumstances. Such is not quite the case! I am no stranger to you.

Noah advances savagely to the Dean. There is a knocking at the door. Noah restrains himself and faces the Dean.

Noah: No, this is neither the time nor place, with people at the door and dinner on the table, to spill a strange man’s blood.

The Dean: I trust that your self-respect as an officer of the law will avert anything so unseemly.

Noah: Ay. That’s it! You’ve touched me on my point of pride. There ain’t a police station in all Durnstone conducted more strict and rigid nor what mine is, and so it shall continue. You and me is a-going to set out for Durnstone, and when the charges now standing against you is entered, it’s I, Noah Topping what’ll add another!

There is another knock at the door.

Hannah: Noah!

Noah: The charge of alienating the affections of my wife, Hannah!

The Dean: (Horrified) No, no!

Noah: Ay, and worse — the embezzling of my midday meal prepared by her hands. (Pointing to the cell) Go in; you have five minutes more in the home you have ruined and laid waste.

The Dean: (Going to the door and turning to Noah) You will at least receive my earnest assurance that this worthy woman is entirely innocent?

Noah: Innocent? Innocent? (Pointing to the joint on the table) Look there! Look there!

The Dean, much overcome, disappears through the cell door, which Noah closes and locks. The knock at the front door is repeated.

Unlock the door, woman!

Hannah: (Weeping) Oh Noahry, you’ll never be popular in St. Marvells.

Pinero, Arthur Wing, Dandy Dick, Oberon Books Ltd., 2012, pp. 69-76.