Title: The Reckoning - A Play in One Act
Author: Wilde, Percival, 1887-1953
Language: English
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The Reckoning
A Play in One Act

By PERCIVAL WILDE


The Reckoning

CHARACTERS
THE BARBER.
THE CUSTOMER.


THE RECKONING


_The scene is a barber shop. At the center is the chair, facing a
mirror and washstand at the right. The tiled walls are sprinkled
with the usual advertisements. At the rear, a door leads up to
the street by a flight of two or three steps. A dock on the left
wall indicates three._

_At the rise of curtain, THE BARBER, a man of fifty, is
discovered sharpening a razor, and whistling softly to himself.
He finishes with the razor; seats himself in the chair, takes up
a paper, and reads._

_The door opens, and THE CUSTOMER, a flashily-dressed individual
of forty-five, enters the shop._

THE BARBER. (_Rising at once_) Good afternoon, sir.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Pulling out his watch_) That clock right?

THE BARBER. Yes, sir; Western Union time. Corrected every hour.

THE CUSTOMER. My watch has run down. (_He sets it._) Now, I've
got just five minutes to spare. Can you shave me in that time?

THE BARBER. Five minutes, sir? Easy! Easy!

THE CUSTOMER. All right. Go ahead. (_He takes off his hat and
coat, and moves towards the chair._)

THE BARBER. Your collar also, sir.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Smiling_) Fussy, aren't you?

THE BARBER. Well, sir, I try to do my work well.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Takes off tie and collar, putting his expensive
scarf-pin in the edge of his vest, which he does not remove_)
Satisfied now?

THE BARBER. Yes, sir Thank you, sir. (_He gets out sheet, towels,
etc._) In a hurry, sir?

THE CUSTOMER. Yes. Got to attend a meeting at three-ten.

THE BARBER. Oh! The auction up-stairs?

THE CUSTOMER. Yes. (_He glances at the clock._) You'll have to
cut it pretty fine.

THE BARBER. Don't worry, sir. There's lots of time.... From the
country, sir?

THE CUSTOMER. (_Lighting a cigar_) Yes. Southerner.

THE BARBER. (_Fastening the sheet_) I thought so. I'm from the
country myself.

THE CUSTOMER. What part?

THE BARBER. Oh, that would be difficult to say. You see, I've
moved around so much that I'm neither a Southerner nor a
Northerner. I'm just an American. (_He mixes the lather._) I
lived in a little town near Savannah for a year.

THE CUSTOMER. Did you? Why, so did I.

THE BARBER. Yes, indeed. I used to see you--quite frequently--
though you never came into my shop. Then I went to Philadelphia.

THE CUSTOMER. What year?

THE BARBER. Let me think. It was April, twelve years ago.

THE CUSTOMER. April, twelve years ago? _I_ went to Philadelphia
the same month!

THE BARBER. I saw you there, too, sir. (_He lets down the chair
suddenly._)

THE CUSTOMER. (_Startled_) What are you doing?

THE BARBER. I'm hurrying, sir.

THE CUSTOMER. Well, you needn't break my neck about it.

THE Barber. No, sir. (_Lathering._) From Philadelphia I went to
Newark.

THE CUSTOMER. To Newark?

THE BARBER. And from Newark to Indianapolis.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Much surprised_) What?

THE BARBER. And then Muscatine--for a few months--and Chicago--
and Louisville.

THE CUSTOMER. Why, one would think you had been following me
about! I've lived in every one of those places.

THE BARBER. Have you, sir? It's a little world, isn't it?

THE CUSTOMER. You've been a barber right along?

THE BARBER. I couldn't do anything else, sir. It's my trade.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Smiling_) Well, this is the first time you ever
shaved me.

THE BARBER. Curious, isn't it? But it may be the last.

THE CUSTOMER. That's so. I'm going to leave town right after the
auction.

THE BARBER. If I may ask, sir, where are you going?

THE CUSTOMER. I don't know yet. (_Jocularly._) Are you going to
follow me?

THE BARBER. Sooner or later, sir. It's going to be a long
journey, isn't it?

THE CUSTOMER. What makes you think so?

THE BARBER. There's a long journey we all take--sooner or later.
Eh?

THE CUSTOMER. A long journey? But you're wasting time, man!

THE BARBER. Am I, sir? (_He strolls to the clock; looks at it;
returns._) Fine weather we're having.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Impatiently_) Yes.

THE BARBER. Though a little more rain would be good for the
crops.

THE CUSTOMER. Um.

THE BARBER. (_Very leisurely_) You know, sir, the young man who
keeps the shoe store at the corner was saying as I trimmed his
hair this morning--

THE CUSTOMER. (_Interrupting_) I don't care what he said! I want
to get shaved!

THE BARBER. Yes, sir! Yes, sir! And--and the young lady who runs
the news stand up-stairs--right next to the elevator, sir--she
was saying that she had never--

THE CUSTOMER. (_Interrupting more violently_) I told you once I
don't care what your friends were saying! I've got to be at that
meeting at three-ten.

THE BARBER. Yes, sir.

THE CUSTOMER. My time is almost up. You'll have to hurry.

THE BARBER. (_Slapping on more lather_) Don't worry, sir. I
always keep my promises. Why, I remember, sir, back in Savannah,
when my poor daughter was alive, I promised--

THE CUSTOMER. (_Interrupting angrily_) I don't give a damn for
your daughter!

THE BARBER. (_Mildly_) No, sir. I didn't think you did.

THE CUSTOMER. And your time is up.

THE BARBER. (_Beginning to shave_) Oh, no, sir! It hasn't begun.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Starting_) What do you mean?

THE BARBER. Don't do that again, sir! You don't know how near you
came to cutting yourself!

THE CUSTOMER. You promised to finish with me in five minutes!

THE BARBER. No, sir, if you will allow me to contradict you, I
did not.

THE CUSTOMER. You said you would shave me in five minutes.

THE BARBER. Yes, sir. _That_ is correct.

THE CUSTOMER. And it's--

THE BARBER. Easy, sir, easy! The razor is sharp! (_Shaving._)
When I promised to shave you in five minutes, I didn't say
anything about lathering. That takes several minutes by itself.

THE CUSTOMER. What?

THE BARBER. Now you've done it! (_He applies styptic to a cut on
THE CUSTOMER's face._) Smarts, doesn't it?

THE CUSTOMER. (_Furious_) You clumsy, awkward, conceited galoot!

THE BARBER. (_With sudden and overwhelming rage_) Don't talk to a
gentleman like that! You cur! (_With a sudden resumption of his
obsequious manner._) I did it on purpose.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Gasping_) Wh-what do you mean?

THE BARBER. (_Respectfully_) You really mustn't accuse me of
being clumsy, sir. I'm _not_ clumsy. If I cut you, it was quite
intentional--like this! (_Cutting him a second time._)

THE CUSTOMER. Damnation! Are you crazy?

THE BARBER. (_Applying the styptic_) No, sir, I'm quite sane.
(_THE CUSTOMER tries to sit up._)  Oh, don't do that, sir! Don't
do that! My razor is _frightfully_ sharp!

THE CUSTOMER. (_Panic-stricken_) I want to sit up!

THE BARBER. Don't try it while the razor is at your throat, sir.
It is sure to be fatal.

THE CUSTOMER. Then take it away!

THE BARBER. Oh, no, no, no! When I am through shaving you--not
before. Now take it easy, sir. Lie back quietly! Quietly! That's
it.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Controlling himself with an effort, and putting
his cigar in his mouth_) What are you going to do with me? What's
this? A hold-up?

THE BARBER. What am I-- (_With a sudden access of rage._) Take
that filthy thing out of your mouth! (_He snatches the cigar, and
throws it to the floor; continues obsequiously._) What am I going
to do with you, sir? Why, really, I haven't the slightest idea.
Er--can't you suggest something?

THE CUSTOMER. (_Quickly and earnestly_) Listen to me. I must be
at that meeting at once! I can't spare another minute. If I am
not there before three-fifteen I will be ruined--do you
understand me?--ruined!

THE BARBER. You needn't raise your voice, sir. My hearing is
excellent. (_He lathers again, keeping the razor near THE
CUSTOMER's throat._)

THE CUSTOMER. (_Piteously_) Can't I convince you? I

THE BARBER. Oh, I believe you. Don't let that trouble you. In
fact, I know all about the meeting. There's going to be an
auction, and unless you bid, it will be all up with you.

THE CUSTOMER. Then you'll let me go there?

THE BARBER. I'm afraid I won't, sir.

THE CUSTOMER. But--

THE BARBER. If I may use your own words, sir, I don't give a damn
about your meeting.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Angrily_) Who the devil do you think

THE BARBER. (_Interrupting him by running the lather brush into
his mouth_) Oh, shut up! (_There is a pause._)

THE CUSTOMER. I'll-I'll give you ten dollars to let me go.

THE BARBER. (_Acting as if he did not hear_) Beg pardon, sir?

THE CUSTOMER. (_Taking the scarf-pin from the edge of his vest._)
This scarf-pin--it's worth five hundred dollars--I'll give--

THE BARBER. (_Raises his hand to his ear, knocking the pin out of
THE CUSTOMER's hand_) I don't hear well on this side. Try the
other.

THE CUSTOMER. A thousand dollars! I'll give you a thousand
dollars!

THE BARBER. I'm afraid it won't do, sir. You see, the young lady
who runs the news stand up-stairs says--you won't interrupt me
_this_ time will you?--she says it's important to keep customers
in sight. There's nothing so bad for trade as an empty shop.

THE CUSTOMER. Oh, have you no heart? It's almost too late now!
Every second is worth a dollar to me!

THE BARBER. Well, sir, it will console you to know that my time
is worth very little.

THE CUSTOMER. Please let me up! If I wait two minutes longer, I
might as well shoot myself.

THE BARBER. I shan't object, sir.

THE CUSTOMER. Oh! Oh! Oh!

THE BARBER. So you are beginning to feel some regrets? I'm glad
to see it. I always thought you'd regret sooner or later.
(_Shaving._)  By the way, sir, haven't you recognized me yet?

THE CUSTOMER. _Recognized_ you?

THE BARBER. Oh, I see. You thought I was just a lunatic. Well,
I'm not. Look at me. Look at me closely.

THE CUSTOMER. I don't know you!

THE BARBER. No? Well, just say to yourself, "Twelve years ago
this man's hair was not so gray. Twelve years ago this man's face
didn't show so many lines of care. Twelve years ago this man
lived--well, in a little town near Savannah, and--"

THE CUSTOMER. (_Beginning to recognize him_) You-you can't be--

THE BARBER. Say it.

THE CUSTOMER. Kilburn!

THE BARBER. Yes, Kilburn!

THE CUSTOMER. (_Hoarsely_) And you followed me about!

THE BARBER. For twelve years!

THF CUSTOMER. From town to town!

THE BARBER. I was never more than a week behind you.

THE CUSTOMER. (_With unutterable horror_) Good God!

THE BARBER. Yes, _God._ I used to think of Him a great deal,
John. I used to ask Him why He never brought you into my shop.

THE CUSTOMER. Oh! Oh!

THE BARBER. But He brought you here at last, John! He brought you
here at last! (_He pauses._)  For twelve mortal years I've been
hoping for this day! Once, in Muscatine, you came in, but there
was another man in the chair, and you wouldn't wait. Once, in
Louisville, you crossed my threshold, looked at your watch, and
walked out again. But sooner or later, John, I knew you'd walk
into my shop, and sit down in my chair! That day has come! (_He
looks into his eyes._) You and I, John, the two of us, have a
long account to settle, haven't we? _I've_ been one of your
creditors, too! And this is the reckoning, John! You're going to
pay me--pay me in full--and you're going to pay me _now!_

THE CUSTOMER. What are you going to do?

THE BARBER. That's a hard question, John. I'd be justified in
cutting your throat, wouldn't I?

THE CUSTOMER. It would be murder!

THE BARBER. Ugly word, isn't it?

THE CUSTOMER. Murder in the first degree!

THE BARBER. Oh, of course!

THE CUSTOMER. They'd get you as sure as fate!

THE BARBER. I wouldn't run away.

THE CUSTOMER. But, Kilburn, think what you are doing!

THE BARBER. I've been thinking about it for twelve years, John.

THE CUSTOMER. I'm on my back, helpless!

THE BARBER. You'd _run_ if I let you up.

THE CUSTOMER. But give me a chance! Kilburn, give me--

THE BARBER. (_Interrupting_) No, John, you get no chance. You
gave Jennie none. (_He pauses._)  She was just eighteen when you
came to our town. She was only a child, John, only a child. Her
mother was dead. I was all she had--and she was all I had. And I
was trying to bring her up right--to make her the same kind of a
woman her mother had been, if you know what that means.

THE CUSTOMER. I didn't--

THE BARBER. Don't tell me what you did and what you didn't! She
loved you--and--and I trusted you. You were going to get married.
You took her away with you--and you _didn't_ marry her! Marriage?
Why, you never thought of it! You couldn't get her any other way
--you wanted her--and you got her! You didn't care about me, and
you didn't care about her. She was a toy. She amused you, and
when you were through with her, you flung her into the gutter! It
makes me sick to think of it! (_He goes on more quietly._)  She
came home six months later. How she got back all the way from
where you'd taken her, I don't know--and I don't like to guess.
And then-then--

THE CUSTOMER. I'll marry _her_ now, Kilburn.

THE BARBER. You'll have to ask her about that.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Eagerly_) Well?

THE BARBER. In two minutes you'll be _able_ to ask her.

THE CUSTOMER. What do you mean?

THE BARBER. She's dead, John--dead.

(_THE CUSTOMER groans. Then, suddenly, he tries to rise. THE
BARBER places his hand over his forehead and eyes, and forces him
back into the chair._)

THE BARBER. Thirty seconds for your prayers, John!

THE CUSTOMER. Don't kill me, man! Don't kill me! I'm not fit to
die! I'm not ready! A minute! Two minutes! I'm too young! Don't
kill--

(_THE BARBER, still with his hand upon the other man's eyes,
suddenly seizes a wet towel and strikes him across the throat
with it. THE CUSTOMER faints. THE BARBER looks at him
contemptuously; abruptly raises the chair to a sitting position;
puts away the razor._)

THE BARBER. So your nerve gave way, John? Your nerve gave way?
(_He spreads the towel over THE CUSTOMER's face and roughly wipes
away the lather._)

THE CUSTOMER. (_Beginning to come to; faintly_) Where am I?

THE BARBER. You ought to be in hell, but I guess you're still on
God's good earth.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Putting his hand to his throat_) You--you didn't
kill me?

THE BARBER. No. I didn't.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Standing up_) And you could have!

THE BARBER. John, when you're just about to cross the river, when
your eyes are beginning to glaze and your heart's about to stop
beating, you won't be nearer death than you were a minute ago!

THE CUSTOMER. _Why_ didn't you kill me?

THE BARBER. It wouldn't bring back Jennie, would it?

THE CUSTOMER. (_With a sneer_) Were you afraid?

THE BARBER. After I had been looking forward to it for twelve
years? No.

THE CUSTOMER. Then why--

THE BARBER. (_Grimly_) You'll remember why! (_He helps him on
with his coat._) John, tell me: are fellows who are so brave with
women always so cowardly when they deal with men? Or, (_breaking
off, speaking slowly_), or, perhaps, was it on account of that
meeting?

THE CUSTOMER. That meeting? Good Lord!

THE BARBER. Yes, the meeting.

THE CUSTOMER. (_Looking at the clock_) Twenty-five minutes past!
I'm ruined! I'm ruined!

THE BARBER. (_Half to himself_) I didn't kill you, no! I left you
your life, but I made it worthless! I broke you! I broke you!

THE CUSTOMER. (_Has crossed stealthily to the door_) Kilburn!

THE BARBER. (_Startled at the sudden change in his voice_) Yes?

THE CUSTOMER. (_Hysterically_) Thought I was a fool, did you?
Thought I'd tell you the real time of the meeting?

THE BARBER. What do you mean?

THE CUSTOMER. (_Shrieking_) You ass! You idiot! The meeting
doesn't begin till _three-thirty!_

THE BARBER. (_Calmly_) Is that all? Well, the clock (_pointing to
it_) is half an hour slow.



CURTAIN





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