 Act 3 of The Rocket by Arthur Wing Pinero. Act 3. Coming down like a stick. Scene. Room in the Lord Gordon Hotel, Dover. Up the stage centre at back, a large open window, looking out onto balcony and marine view. Up stage right, a door. Up stage left, a door below door left of fireplace. Armchair before fire, left centre. Up stage centre, table in two-chairs right. Down stage a sofa. Down stage left a bell-pull. Practical locks on both doors, important. Evening light. Music at rise of curtain. Mabel is discovered on balcony. Chatwood laying white cloth. I beg pardon, sir. Lider there being no response. I beg pardon, sir. Eh? Mabel turns and comes to entrance to room. Do you want me? Beg pardon, sir. What time will you dine? What time is it now? Chatwood referring to clock or mantelpiece. A quarter past five, sir. How slowly the time passes. I'll not dine till eight. Chatwood producing cart from breast pocket. What would you like, sir? Everything very nice at this time of year? Anything you please, good, bad or indifferent. I'll see to it that you have it, sir. Mabel returns to balcony. Chatwood comes to door right. Mabel, that is an exclamation. Good gracious! I can't be mistaken. Waiter! Mabel comes into room quickly. Yes, sir. A lady has just entered the hotel. A young lady. Tell her there is a visitor here of the name of Mabel. Certainly, sir. Chatwood goes off door right. I wonder if my eyes have deceived me. Now I come to think of it. What on earth should Miss Wackenshaw be doing at Dover? And alone, too. Shirley Joslin, who knew of my journey, would have asked me to take charge of her. Or at any rate have mentioned the matter to me. Bye, Jove. I'm forgetting I'm five and fifty and don't wear spectacles. I'd better stop the waiter. He crosses to centre as Chatwood enters. I've told the young lady, sir. She's coming up. The douche she is. I'm afraid I may have made a mistake, Waiter. Too late now, sir. Here is the lady. Florence enters door right. I'm right. I don't need spectacles after all. Florence advancing. Mr. Mabel. Mabel to Chatwood. Don't stay, Waiter. To Florence. What an extraordinary accident. Chatwood aside at door right. An accident? Same old dodge. It's wonderful what accidents do happen in this here hotel. Goes out. Here's the last person I expected to meet at Dover. Eh? I said you are the last person I expected to find here. I said that too. And what does bring you to Dover? Don't think me rude or unkind, Mr. Mabel. I can't. I mustn't tell you. It's a secret. Don't tell me anything. You shall know all about me instead. I'm going to Paris. To Paris? Mabel smiling. Hello? I think you have told me something. Where are you going to Paris? Florence perplexed. Oh, what shall I do? I travel by the ten o'clock boat. The ten o'clock boat? There you go again. You will let the cat out of the bag. You are going by the ten o'clock boat. Florence sitting on sofa, crying. Oh, Mr. Mabel. I don't want anybody to know. Mabel on her left patting her shoulder kindly. Come, come, come. Nobody will know except myself, the captain and all the passengers, and perhaps the stewardess. I'm afraid you're in some trouble. What about Jocelyn? Isn't he to know? Florence sobbing. Please don't tell him. Very well I won't on one condition. Jocelyn is a friend of mine and a fine honest lad. Now I'll respect your secret. That's for your sake. She takes his hand gratefully. And I'll stick to you till I see you safely disposed of in Paris. That's for Jocelyn's sake. She rises. No, not a word. I'm very firm. You're very kind. Fiddledy-dee. The first thing to be done is that you should take off your hat and cape and rest while I smoke my pipe on the balcony. Florence smiling and taking off hat, etc. I suppose it's of no use my say no. Goes to sofa and sits. The second that you dine with me here at eight o'clock. Florence desponding me. I shan't be able to eat. I didn't say eat. Half the people who dine never eat. Now I'll leave you. If your eyes are not closed in five minutes I'll storm the place down. What makes you so like a father to me? Mabel patting her head. Florence. Won't you tell me? I have told you. The reason is all in that little name, Florence. He goes up and out on balcony. I wish I could tell him everything, but I'm afraid he would try to reason with me. Men always get the best of women by their dreadful habit of reasoning, as if the grandest actions in the world weren't done without any reason whatever. She throws herself on sofa. I will try to rest. Closes her eyes wearily. Ah, the moment I close my eyes I begin to think of Jocelyn, poor Jocelyn. I wonder if he is very much cut up. I hope he isn't. No, I hope he is. I... She falls asleep. There is a moment's pause and then voices are heard distinctly in the adjoining room. What is small room for four of us? Mind the little dog, Adolfus. I wish it had looked over the sea. It might revive the chivalier. Sorry, the chivalier's so beastly, Seedy. Try weed on the jettie, chivalier. No. I'll not allow him to smoke in his condition. All I want is to be allowed to lie down here with my face to the wall. I will never leave you. The voices cease as Florence starts up from the sofa. What's that? They're following me. Lady Hammersmith, Jocelyn? Looking round in a daze. Oh, I thought I heard Lady Hammersmith's voice. Mabel enters room from balcony and comes down left centre. Calm, calm. This isn't resting. Florence, going to him. I—I have been dreaming. I thought I heard voices which seemed familiar to me, and then I must have started up. Rosalyn laughs, and there is an indistinct murmur from room left. Of course. Some noisy people in the next room. He rings bell. I must find you some quieter resting place. Half the people in this world seem bent on disturbing the other half. There, there. Why, you are all of a tremble. Chatwood enters door right. Waiter, show this lady to a room where she can rest without being disturbed by noisy neighbours. Yes, sir. Certainly, sir. Will you come this way, ma'am? Mabel to Florence. Wine along, and you shan't be roused again till eight o'clock. How good you are! How good you are! She is followed by Chatwood out of door right. Lendenhall from room left. A capital idea. I know what will pull him round. Mabel, turning. Why? I recognise that voice. Yes, a brandy and soda, and not too much beastly soda. If that's not Lord Lendenhall, I'm a Dutchman. What does he do at Dover? Here's another complication. If he sees Florence here, her secret poor girl is no longer in my keeping. No, I must explain matters to Lendenhall without delay. He goes to door left and turns handle. Locked, of course. I might have known that. He knocks. There is no response. Perhaps it would be more polite to go round and find his room. Yes, I'm sure it would. Crossing to door right. Dear me, how people do turn up in strange places. The world's very, very small. He goes out, door right. Directly he has gone, the door left is open from the other side, by Chatwood. Chatwood entering. Don't know who could have knocked, sir. There is no one here. Lendenhall enters, still carrying dog. I'm sure I heard a rap at the door, and someone turn handle. It's a beastly liberty. Rosaline enters. Oh, what a comfortable room. So much better than ours. Look, Matilda. Here is the sea. Rosaline goes on to balcony, followed by Lendenhall. Lady Hammersmith enters. This is the apartment we should have had. They don't guess who we really are. This is the result of traveling incognito. I beg pardon, ma'am. We didn't know you were anybody. What? I mean anybody in particular. I'll go downstairs and see if I can get your room changed. Goes out, door right. Rosaline comes down. How is the dear Chevalier? Is he still so nervous? Nervous? No. Why should he be nervous? Count in the tooth, he says it is. Yes, dear, a family complaint he inherited with his estates. Chevalier, come here. I'm certain the sea breeze will revive you, dear Chevalier. Rosaline goes up on balcony. Lady Hammersmith re-enters room left. Rosaline on balcony to Lendenhall. Adolfus. Yes, love? Be careful. You will drop the little Caesar over the balcony. Oh no, Rosie. Lady Hammersmith enters, leading Wolkinshaw, who is in traveling attire. He has a cloth cap drawn over his eyes and a muffler up to his nose. Are you better? Not much. First ascertaining that Rosaline is out of the way, he pulls down the collar of his coat. His hair is cut, and his face clean-shaven. He is pale and mean-looking. How do you think I'm looking? Very like the First Napoleon. I feel the resemblance. I should like to view distant France from the end of the jetty. I think a stroll would pull me together. Come on, then. We will stroll. No, I don't think we will stroll. I think I will stroll. You are tired of my society? Matilda, you wound me. There seems to be a general conspiracy to wound me. It's because you've been so incessant in your attentions that I want you to rest. Ever since we fell together on the doorstep of the house in Portman's Square, you have never left me. You must have been mad to have rushed from your Matilda. When the hairdresser came, you never left me. When the doctor came, you never left me. Lady Hammersmith, clinging to him. No, and I never will leave you. Never, never, never. Rosaline re-enters room from window. Won't the chevalier come on to the balcony? He is still very much upset. Probably at revisiting the land of his former fortunes. Walk inshore with a groan, runs to sofa, and throws himself upon it. Face to the wall. To Lady Hammersmith. Oh, keep her away, keep her away! Poor chevalier, let me speak to him of France. No, no, I'd rather not, I'd rather not. Lady Hammersmith, to Rosaline. Thank you very much, dear, but somehow he cannot endure anybody but me. Rosaline, tapping Lady Hammersmith's cheek playfully. Ah, that is a hint, Matilda. Well, lovers must be indulged. Lady Hammersmith, looking down bashfully. Oh, no, it isn't that at all, dear. Don't forget, you are in a stranger's room, Matilda. Come along, Adolfus. Aside. I should like to see his face for a moment, though I dare say it is an ugly one. What a lover to have. Adolfus, come along. Adolfus. Yes, Rosie. She goes off, laughing to herself, left, followed by Lettenhall. Lady Hammersmith, coming to side of sofa. We are alone. Walk inshore, sitting up, much relieved. Oh, that's all right. Lady Hammersmith, sitting beside him. Lady Hammersmith, sitting beside him. You don't seem to have taken to Rosaline. Yes, I have taken to Rosaline. I've taken to great dislike to Rosaline. But why? I don't like her face. I don't like her voice. Don't like her manner. She's in the way. In the way? She's my companion, my protector. Boshtash, soar, poo. Chevalier. Walk inshore, rising. Companion, protector. Where's mine? I came alone. You're a man. You're another. I mean, you're a widow. A widow should be careful. A widow generally is. Running away with a man is no trifling matter. Not for the man. Lady Hammersmith, priitely. When I married the alderman, everybody knew it. Everybody knew it. Walk inshore, rising and going up. Everybody will know it now, if you're not quieter. This is too bad. You have enticed me away from London, and now you wish to deprive me of my friends. Heartless. Cruel. You're like all the men. A good job, too. Lady Hammersmith, crying. Goes upstage and out onto the balcony. Walk inshore, aside. Can't hanker this old cat. Crosses left centre. Lady Hammersmith, from window. Feeling inclined to throw myself into the sea. Aren't you frightened? Yes. Aside. That you won't do it. Crosses and seats himself in armchair left centre. What a miss, I mean. Ah, if only she'd give me a chance of slipping back to London. Not for one second would she let me out of her side, since she tripped me up on the doorstep of the house in Portman Square. What a mess, I mean. Just as I was going up in the world, going up like a rocket, to think that Rosaline, whom I thought was with the angels, devil taker, should turn up. If I fall into the clutches of that she-devil, I'm cooked. If I can only sneak away from this objectionable old woman before Rosaline recognises me, that'll be a point saved. I can easily lie quiet till Joslyn has married Florence, and then, for the sake of the family credit, they'll hush up by misfortunes. Looking over the back of his chair towards Lady Hammersmith. She's looking the other way. Can I manage it? He rises and walks on tiptoe over to door right. As he reaches centre, Lady Hammersmith turns sharply and meets him left centre. Where are you going? I'm going to get a little fresh air. You'll have plenty of fresh air on board the boat. Walking shore, turning away with a groan, aside. She knows I can't walk off that boat. Ah, what a mess I'm in. Sits in armchair, left centre. Lady Hammersmith, coming down to him. Chevalier. Oh. Chevalier. Nay, it's time I give you your Christian name. Fitzgerald. We've had our first little lover's quarrel. Our first tiff. In a kittenish way. Shall we be reconciled? Taking both his hands. Shall we make it up? Walking shore, releasing himself. Matilda, don't. The real owner of this room might return. Let's be particular. The waiter has gone to ask him to place it at our disposal. Oh, Fitzgerald. It's worthwhile to quarrel, if only for the sake of this happy reconciliation. Shall we quarrel always when we're together? Yes. There is a knock at door right. A knock at the door. If it's the owner of the room, explain who we are. She runs off on to balcony. The knock is repeated. Then the door opens and Jocelyn enters breathlessly. Jocelyn, looking round but not seeing walk in shore. The bookie but told me this was the room. There is no young lady here. Ah, confounded, I hope I haven't lost scent again. Oh, I'm almost knocked up. He sits, wiping his brow right of table. Walk in shore peeps over back of chair. Jocelyn, the devil. He sinks down again as Lady Hammersmith looks in at the window. Aside. Who's that sitting at the table, I wonder? She advances a step softly. Ah, it's Jocelyn. In a fright. He's tracked us here. He is so violent he'll hurt Fitzgerald. What shall I do? She creeps softly towards door left. Walk in shore watching her and his chair. She goes out door left. Walk in shore rises. Now's my trance. He is sneaking round back of stage to right door when door left through which Lady Hammersmith has just passed is sharply closed and locked. Jocelyn starts up with a sound and sees walk in shore. What's that? Who are you? Good gracious, the chivalier. What have you done to yourself? Never you mind. Let me pass. Let me pass. Let you pass? Yes. When you have rendered an account of your movements to me. Oh, I know why you're here. You have followed her to Dover. I have followed no one to Dover. You have, sir. You see I am only a little behind you. You're always a little behind me. I say you have followed your victim to this hotel. My freak team. Yes, she's in your clutches. Is she? I think I'm in hers. You don't know that she sent me a letter previous to a flight from London. She did? She did. Walk in shore, aside. Oh, the treacherous old cat! Shakespeare's fist at door left. I formed the idea that Paris was to be her destination. I started in pursuit. I reached Folkston at half-past five. I found I was on the wrong scent and took the train to Dover. Give her up to me, do here. I'll not leave this hotel without her. Walk in shore, seizing him warmly by the hand. My dear sir, she's yours. You shall have her. Take her away. She's yours. Pointing to door left. In that room. Jocelyn takes step to right. With Lord Leddenhall and Madame Fabriquette. Lord Leddenhall and Madame Fabriquette. What do they do here? They were to have been best man and bridesmaid. The best man and bridesmaid? Where? When? How? In Paris, at our wedding. At your wedding? Why, you scoundrel, you're her father. Am I? She's old enough to be my mother. Mr. Walk in shore, you are not sober. I am. You're not. Walk in shore, seizing his arm. I am. You stand a bottle of champagne in the bar and see the difference. Jocelyn shaking him off. Don't touch me. I'll make up my mind what to do with you when I've seen Florence. Stand aside and let me speak to Florence. Florence, you don't know what you're talking about. You've just left Florence. Where? In Portman Square. She's in that room. She isn't. You're mad. I'm going. Jocelyn stops him firmly. Mr. Walk in shore, I don't want to injure an old man. You should have thought of that this morning. But as sure as we are sinners, you especially, I'll shake the life out of you if you deceive me any longer. Where is Florence? I don't know. On my honour as a gentleman. Jocelyn releases him and falls back. Then what do you mean by telling me that? Jocelyn catches sight of the hat in Cape lying on table. Why, you scoundrel, here are Florence's hat in Cape. What? Look, do you think I could not recognise that hat amongst a thousand? Come here. He seizes Walk in shore and drags him up to door left, turning the handle. Florence, Florence, are you there? It is I, Jocelyn. Knocking at the door violently. Let me in whoever is in this room. I will come in. Walk in shore, clinging to him frantically. No, no, don't, don't. You don't know what you're doing. Jocelyn, my boy. There's a lady there that I don't particularly wish to see. Dragging him away from door. Jocelyn, I've been a little bit wild in my time. Boys will be boys. We must all sew our wild oats. My wild oats are locked up in that room. Don't let them out, Jocelyn. Don't. There's a whole bushel basket full of them. Sinks on his knees before Jocelyn. Explain yourself. What's the matter with you? Walk in shore, rises. I came here with your mother. We were to cross to Calais tonight and to be married on the quiet in Paris. Jocelyn, indignantly. You infernal scoundrel. Don't be angry. It was an affair of the heart. Love's young dream. You felt it yourself, Jocelyn. But I found out my mistake and I don't think the old lady is the sort of party calculated to make me happy. You heap of selfishness. She's too good for you. Yes, she's too good for me. I'll leave her for someone else. I'll give her away at the altar myself. I'll do everything handsomely. But where is Florence? I don't know. Upon my soul I don't. Jocelyn, producing Florence's letter. Read that. Your daughter's handwriting. Walk in shore, reading letter. Oh, my goodness! What ingratitude after all I've done for her. Chatwood enters door right. If you please, sir, I can't find the gentleman who took this room. Waiter, where is the young lady who was here a short time ago? The young lady, sir. She's in room number 27 on the floor above. This way, sir. Chatwood goes out. Jocelyn follows him. Walk in shore, follows Jocelyn. Jocelyn, to walk in shore. Be good enough to remain where you are. I won't. If my daughter is in this hotel I insist upon seeing her. You can't keep a father from his child. It's inhuman. When I found her you shall see her. But I've not done with you, Chevalier, and I'm going to turn the key in this door. No, don't. Jocelyn goes out. The key is heard to turn. Walk in shore, on his knees, speaks through the keyhole. Coaxingly. Jocelyn, let me out. Let me out. Let me out. I want to speak to you one word. Let me out, Jocelyn, and I'll make it worth your while. Jocelyn, I can teach you a trick or two at Eckhartet or Lans-Connais. I can give you a splendid tip for thee, c'est legeur. He rises. He's gone. Beast, what a mess I mean. I'm cooked, and I shall be served up to the police. Oh, what a sad end, when I've always been so particular not to mix with the police. What's that? Door left opens. Lady Hammersmith enters, closing door after her. Where's Jocelyn? You can't get out. He's locked the door. Why? To prevent my following him, the coward. Chevalier, do you know that Florence has run away from Portman Square and is in this hotel? Yes, everybody seems to be in this hotel. Do you know, too, that she is going to Paris? Yes, everybody is going to Paris. Who told you about Florence? A gentleman who happens to be stopping here. Another man stopping at this hotel. What a business they are doing here. Is he going to Paris, too? Yes, he is. Thought so. Oh, what a business they will do in Paris. Who is he? A friend of mine. A Mr. Mabel. Wolkinshaw, leaping out of his chair. What? A friend of mine. A passenger by the ten o'clock boat. Mr. Mabel. John Mabel? Yes, John Mabel. Do you know him? Yes, no. Oh, he sinks into chair. Fetch Gerald. What is the matter with you? Keep him away. I don't want to know any more men. I don't want to make any fresh acquaintances. Why? He's a very nice man with a great sorrow. So am I. So am I. So am I. He's on his road to Paris in search of a missing brother and daughter. Where is he? In our room. We are in his. Wolkinshaw, rising. He runs upstage and out on balcony. Looking down. Thirty feet at least. That won't do. Door left opens and John Mabel enters. Comes down left, putting pipe on mantelpiece, and is just turning upstage as Wolkinshaw appears in room from off the balcony. Mabel, coming face to face with Wolkinshaw. Great heavens, Joshua. Joshua? That's Fitzgerald Wolkinshaw. My brother, Joshua Mabel, after all these years. Your brother? O gracious, what will become of me? There is a pause after which Wolkinshaw extends his hand to Mabel. What, John, you've come back. We'd almost given you up, John. What is the meaning of this assumed name? Your long silence. Things have been very quiet. I haven't had any news, John. Where is my child? The solemn charge I reposed in you seventeen years ago. What? Little Flo? Didn't you know, Jack? I've been a second father to her. I've brought her up as my own child. As your own child? Doesn't my daughter know that her father lives? She knows that I live, Jack. It was so very uncertain whether you'd ever return from India. I thought it best not to bother her with a bereavement. It has worked wonderfully well, Jack. I shouldn't disturb things. I let him alone, Jack. I would, indeed. Then when I meet my Florence after all these years, she will treat me as a stranger, as one of whom she knows neither good nor ill? My place has been usurped and by you, and my child may hate me. He sinks into chair and covers his face with his hands, walking shore to Lady Hammersmith. Matilda. Lady Hammersmith glaring. Yes, Fitzgerald. Crossing to Mabel. Mr. Mabel, you don't see your way clear yet. I believe this wretched motive has been mean and dishonorable. Ask the girl herself what she knows. Ask Florence. Mabel, looking up. My Florence? Your Florence is Florence, our Florence. You say she's here? Find her. Mabel, rising. Here. Don't tell me that Florence walkenshaw. The girl whose hand I have held in mine is— Your daughter, John Mabel. Wake up, man. Ah! The door right opens and Jocelyn enters. Mabel, going to Jocelyn. Jocelyn. Mr. Mabel. Where is Florence? Take me to her. Don't keep us apart a moment longer. Where is she? I demand to see her. Come with me. John Mabel and Jocelyn go out of door right. Walkenshaw is about to follow when Lady Hammersmith catches him by the collar and stops him. No, you don't. Don't be ridiculous, Matilda. I'll be back in ten minutes. If you're back in ten years when once I've left you, you may think yourself lucky. So you don't like Rosaline Fabricat's face, don't you? Or her voice. Or her manner. And you try to disguise your ugly face, you villain. Throw him off. Matilda, you're not going to make a nasty police case of it, are you? Don't cringe to me. Ask her. Huh? Ask Joshua Mabel's lawful wife, my friend, Rosaline Fabricat. Rosaline. No, no, Matilda. Don't give me up to her and I'll confess everything. Oh, she's a tartar. She led me a dreadful life when we were together. Rosaline. You've seen her smile. I've seen her show her teeth. You've seen her in her finales. She's a demon in curlpapers. Don't. Rosaline. Rosaline, offstage left. I'm coming, Matilda. Oh. He throws himself on sofa. Lady Hammersmith standing over him. Rosaline enters, followed by Leddenhall, who still nurses the dog. Lady Hammersmith going to Rosaline's centre. Rosaline, we are the two most unhappy women. Pointing at Walkinshaw. Look at that wretched object. Matilda. The monster upon whom I've wasted the affections of my mature years. The Chevalier Walkinshaw? Oh, the Chevalier Bosch. That is Joshua Mabel. The man who has stolen his brother's child. The wretch who has deceived me. Your husband, Rosaline, whom you thought dead and buried. There he is. There is a pause. Let me go to him, Matilda. Walkinshaw, without moving, utters a suppressed groan. Lady Hammersmith steps back. Rosaline advances to Walkinshaw and taps him on the shoulder. Joshua. No answer. Joshua Mabel, my husband. Walkinshaw very slowly sits up and faces her. Walkinshaw, mildly. What, Rosie? He puts out his hand. She snatches hers away. Well, this is a surprise. So you are not dead then? No, not yet. Nor buried? No. Neither are you, Rosie. What have you done with your moustache and whiskers? You are more ugly than ever. Seizes him by throat. You're plater than you used to be. She puts her hand on his coat collar. He rises. Rosaline drags him down, left centre. Rosie, Rosie, you're not going to make a nasty, nasty law business of this, are you, Rosie? No, I shall correct you myself. When? When. In his ear, speaking through her teeth. When I get you home. Oh. Luddenhall, who has been stolidly looking on. Well, this is beastly. All the chap is to make fun of me when I get back to town. Never mind Adolfus, as few English say, wait. Turning to Walkinshaw. And hope. Walkinshaw, faintly, and sinking into chair. Oh. Luddenhall, throwing dog to Rosie. Here, you take the beastly beast. Mabel and Florence enter door right, followed by Jocelyn. Ah, Lady Hammersmith, my pilgrimage has ended. Here is my daughter. Yes, and my son too. Lady Hammersmith goes to Jocelyn and Florence. Mabel comes to Walkinshaw. As for you, sir, this young man here has told me what he knows of your rascally history. But considering that you have, notwithstanding all your villainous plots and plans, restored my child to me safe and sound, I forgive you. And I advise all in this room to extend a similar compassion to you. Lady Hammersmith. Lady Hammersmith rises from sofa and crosses to Mabel. I am so thankful to be rid of his bigamist attentions that I forgive him. Florence, my child. In the midst of my great happiness, papa, I remember only his acts of kindness, and from my heart I forgive him. I'm so delighted to find that he is not your father nor mine, Florence. I forgive him. Madame Fabriquette. Lady Hammersmith hastily. Mr. Mabel. Lady Hammersmith whispers in Mabel's ear. Good gracious! That lady, his wife? Yes, Mr. Mabel, his wife. Though I never knew of your daughter's existence. Then shall we say we forgive the rascal all round? Walkenshaw starts up indignantly, nobly. Never! Sir, I scorn your forgiveness. My conscience is my reward. I have rendered a service to every one present. Pointing to Jocelyn. I have provided an estimable wife for that young man. Pointing to Leidenhall. I have saved that young man from marrying a shrew and a termigant. Pointing to Lady Hammersmith. I have taught that silly old lady a lesson she will never forget, and I return her to her guardian as good as new. To Mabel. I have cared for your daughter as tenderly as if she had been my own. Yes, by concealing from her her name and parentage, so that when she married a rich husband you could share her good fortune. I admit it, sir. I admit it. It was the only provision I could make for my declining years. Thrift and providence have been my one fault, and you, sir, have robbed a brother of the savings of a lifetime. I don't envy you, sir. I have gone up like a rocket, and have come down like a stick. Still, there is dignity even in a fallen ruin, and if I require forgiveness. Pointing to Audience. I shall ask for it here. Music. Curtain. End of Act Three. End of The Rocket by Arthur Wing Pinero.