=* A Distributed Proofreaders Canada eBook *= This ebook is made available at no cost and with very few restrictions. These restrictions apply only if (1) you make a change in the ebook (other than alteration for different display devices), or (2) you are making commercial use of the ebook. If either of these conditions applies, please contact a FP administrator before proceeding. This work is in the Canadian public domain, but may be under copyright in some countries. If you live outside Canada, check your country's copyright laws. IF THE BOOK IS UNDER COPYRIGHT IN YOUR COUNTRY, DO NOT DOWNLOAD OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS FILE. _Title:_ “Q”: A Farce in One Act _Date of first publication:_ 1915 _Author:_ Stephen Leacock & Basil Hastings _Date first posted:_ Aug. 31, 2015 _Date last updated:_ Aug. 31, 2015 Faded Page eBook #20150819 This ebook was produced by: Alex White & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net FRENCH’S ACTING EDITION No. 2459 “Q” A Farce in One Act BY STEPHEN LEACOCK AND BASIL MACDONALD HASTINGS NET =1/-= NET LONDON: SAMUEL FRENCH, LTD. _Publishers_ 26 SOUTHAMPTON STREET STRAND, W.C.2 NEW YORK: SAMUEL FRENCH _Publisher_ 25 WEST 45TH STREET SCENERY With a view to obviate, as far as possible, the great difficulty amateurs experience in obtaining scenery, we have endeavoured to cope with the situation by providing Strong Lithographed Paper which can be easily mounted on canvas or calico (as canvas is so expensive at present), and then framed on woodwork. As all amateurs will have discovered, the expense of hiring or buying painted canvas scenery is very considerable, but by printing large quantities we can sell outright at a rate comparing favourably with that usually charged for the HIRE of painted canvas scenery. The primary object we have had in view has been to provide scenery which, by easy adjustment and additional sheets of lithographed paper, can be made to fit any reasonable size of stage. * * * * * Any questions on the subject of our scenery will be gladly and promptly answered, and if the particulars of your stage—the height, the width, and depth, together with the position in which you require the doors, fireplace, or windows—are forwarded, we will submit you an estimate of the cost, either for the paper alone or mounted on calico. The framework of wood can be very easily constructed by any local carpenter or can be supplied by us. We shall be pleased to quote prices upon receiving details. * * * * * We do not send Scenery on Hire * * * * * FULLY ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE sent gratis on application. _Turn to next page of cover._ “Q” A FARCE IN ONE ACT VIEWS OF THE CRITICS. DAILY MAIL.—Uncommon quality of genuine humour. . . . The fun was prodigious. DAILY EXPRESS.—A deliciously funny satire. DAILY TELEGRAPH.—Successful. . . . Amusing. . . . Must be seen. STANDARD.—Keeps the huge theatre in ripples of laughter. DAILY CHRONICLE.—Better than usual. . . . Ingenious. . . . You must go to the Coliseum and find out for yourself. EVENING NEWS.—Complete success. . . . Genuinely humorous. . . . Most delightful humour. . . . The audience was convulsed. TOWN TOPICS.—That _rara avis_, a really funny sketch. Kept the house delightedly giggling all the time. STAGE.—The most wittily written sketch of the several Mr. Hawtrey has given us. QUEEN.—Should prove a big success. SUNDAY HERALD.—A delicious farce. . . . Plums of wit. . . . Spiritualism is more genially and wittily burlesqued than ever before. OBSERVER.—Another good thing! “Q” A FARCE IN ONE ACT By STEPHEN LEACOCK and BASIL MACDONALD HASTINGS COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY SAMUEL FRENCH, LIMITED ENTERED AT THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, WASHINGTON, U.S.A. LONDON SAMUEL FRENCH, LTD. PUBLISHERS 26 SOUTHAMPTON STREET STRAND, W.C.2 NEW YORK SAMUEL FRENCH PUBLISHER 25 WEST 45TH STREET OTHER PLAYS by BASIL MACDONALD HASTINGS THE NEW SIN. LOVE—AND WHAT THEN? THE TIDE. ADVERTISEMENT. THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. (_with_ EDEN PHILLPOTTS). “Q,” the story on which this play is founded, may be found in Mr. Stephen Leacock’s _Nonsense Novels_, published by Mr. John Lane, The Bodley Head, Vigo Street, W. Made and Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner Ltd., Frome and London CHARACTERS JACK ANNERLY—_an amateur_. GEORGE GNOOF—_a spiritualist_. BLIGHT—_a butler_. DORA DNIEPER—_a revue girl_. The fee for each and every representation of this play by amateurs is One Guinea, payable in advance to:— Messrs. Samuel French, Ltd., 26, Southampton Street, Strand, London, W.C.2, or their authorized representative, who, upon payment of the fee, will issue a written permission for the performance to take place. No public performance may be given unless a written permission has first been obtained. Character costumes and wigs used in the performance of plays contained in French’s Acting Edition may be obtained from Messrs. CHARLES H. FOX, Limited, 27 Wellington Street, Strand, W.C.2. This play was first performed at the London Coliseum on November 29, 1915, with the following cast:— JACK ANNERLY _Mr. Charles Hawtrey_. GEORGE GNOOF _Mr. Miles Malleson_. BLIGHT _Mr. E. W. Tarver_. DORA DNIEPER _Miss Mona Harrison_. The play produced by MR. CHARLES HAWTREY. [Illustration: Screen Fire Table for cigarettes, etc. Door Chair ] “Q” A PSYCHIC PSTORY OF THE PSUPER NATURAL _The scene is the sitting-room of_ JACK ANNERLY’S _chambers. It is smartly furnished, the essentials being doors_ R. _and_ L.C., _table_ C. _with chairs to_ R. _and_ L. _of it, and a large screen up_ R. _against wall. When the curtain rises_ BLIGHT, _the butler, backs into the room from the door_ L.C. _followed by_ DORA DNIEPER. BLIGHT _is a grave, side-whiskered person_, DORA _vivacious and very prettily dressed_. Dora(_as she enters_). I don’t care twopence what you say, Blight. I must see him to-night. Blight. He’ll never forgive me. Dora(_seating herself_ R. _of table_ C.). Look here, Blight. Jack Annerly owes me £50! Blight. Owes it to you! Dora. Well, he promised me it. And—as usual—I spent it before I got it. Now to-night I want £50 badly. All I’ve got in the world is 4_d._ (_She counts the coppers in her bag._) The landlord of my flat has got to have £50 by twelve o’clock to-night or my furniture goes into the street. Blight. They all say that, miss. Dora. What! Blight. Er—ahem!—I beg your pardon. Of course not. But really I don’t think you’ll get your £50, miss. And you’ll get me into awful trouble for letting you in. Good lord, there’s his latchkey. Whatever shall I do. Dora. Leave it to me, Blight. You won’t get blamed. I’ll hide behind this screen and you must pretend that you know nothing about me. (DORA _hides behind screen up_ R. _Enter_ JACK ANNERLY _He is in evening dress, overcoat and silk hat. In his hand he has a letter which he has just picked up on the mat and opened._) Annerly. Blight, can you lend me £50? Blight. No, sir. Annerly. If I don’t find £50 by twelve o’clock my furniture will be turned into the street. And all I have at the moment is 4_d._ (_He counts coppers in his pocket._) Blight. Dear me, sir. Annerly. Yes, Blight, 4_d._ I’ve got to raise £49 19_s._ 8_d._ in a hurry—or my furniture goes for good. My furniture. That includes your bed. Blight(_helping_ ANNERLY _off with his coat_). I suppose it does, sir. Annerly. Haven’t you really got any money? What about your wages. I always pay them. Blight. Yes, sir. But you always borrow them back again. Annerly. True. The world is black to-night, Blight. I might get Dora Dnieper to let me have her spare room, but the little cat’s in the same predicament. I believe she gets thrown into the street to-morrow as well. (_There is a ring at the front door bell._) (BLIGHT _goes off_ L.C. ANNERLY _goes to table above door_ _takes cigarette and lights it_. DORA _comes out quietly from behind screen_. BLIGHT _returns_.) Blight(_waving_ DORA _back_). It is the gentleman from the floor below, Mr. George Gnoof, sir. Annerly. That bore. Blight. He is a government servant and a spiritualist, sir. Annerly. A spiritualist! Do you think he’s got any money? Blight. At least £1,200 a year. Chief Inspector of Returned Empties, sir. Annerly. Ah, show him in, Blight. A spiritualist, eh? (BLIGHT _shows in_ MR. GEORGE GNOOF, _a low-browed, chinless, idiotic-looking fellow, wearing glasses and red slippers._) Gnoof(_gushingly_). Ah, my dear Annerly! I heard you pass my floor and I thought I would take the liberty of inviting myself to smoke a pipe with you. (_He carries a large calabash pipe._) Annerly. My dear Gnoof—in fact I will say my dear George, you are most welcome. You come most opportunely. I wish to consult you. Take a seat. Gnoof(_sitting_ L. _of table_ C.). This is indeed an honour. Annerly. Not at all. Blight, leave us. And on no account disturb us for at least half an hour. I wish for a peaceful communion of thought with Mr. Gnoof. Gnoof. This is most flattering. (_Exit_ BLIGHT L.C.) Annerly(_sitting_ R. _of table_). Listen, George. You are a spiritualist. Gnoof. A humble votary, shall I say. I certainly pay my subscription to an occult magazine. Annerly. That is why I wish to consult you. Now first of all is your mind perfectly composed? Gnoof. I think I may say, my dear Annerly, that it is. Annerly. Good. I have your attention! . . . Last night—I saw—Q. Gnoof. Indeed. Annerly. Yes, I saw Q. Gnoof. Not, of course, a billiard cue? Annerly. No, no. Q. The—er—somethingth letter of the alphabet. Gnoof. I know. I know. A round O with a wiggle on it. Annerly. Precisely. But as you have already guessed I use Q merely as a symbol for a personality. Gnoof. Quite so. Annerly. Now, my dear George, you believe in the supernatural. You believe in phantasms of the dead? Gnoof. Phantasms? Annerly. Yes. Phantasms. Or, if you prefer the word, phanograms, or say if you will phano-grammatical manifestations, or more simply psycho-phantasmal phenomena. Well, last night I saw the phanogram of Q. Gnoof. Good gracious! Annerly. Yes. I saw Q as plainly as if he were standing here. But perhaps (_rising and pacing the room_) I had better tell you something of my past relationship with Q and you will understand exactly what the present situation is. When I first knew Q—don’t you think you ought to take notes? (_He is now above table_ C.) Gnoof. Indeed, yes. A most valuable suggestion. (_He produces notebook and pencil and puts down all that_ ANNERLY _says in shorthand_.) Annerly. When first I knew Q he lived not very far from a small town which I will call X (GNOOF _makes a note_) and was betrothed to a beautiful and accomplished girl whom I will call M. Gnoof. One moment. I strongly suspect that Q and M are not the real names of your acquaintances, but are in reality two letters of the alphabet selected almost at random to disguise the names of your friends. Annerly. You have guessed correctly. When Q and I—— Gnoof(_puzzled_). I? Annerly. Yes, I. Me. Myself. Gnoof. Of course. Annerly. When Q and I first became friends he had a favourite dog which if necessary I might name Z (GNOOF _makes a note_) and which followed him in and out of X on his daily walk. Gnoof. In and out of X! Annerly. Yes. In _and_ out. Gnoof. This is really very extraordinary. That Z should have followed Q out of X, I can readily understand, but that he should first have followed him in seems to pass the bounds of comprehension. Annerly(_sitting on back of table_). My dear friend, I can sympathize with you in your bewilderment, but that is not the most extraordinary part of the story. Q and Miss—(_he pauses to glance at_ GNOOF’S _notebook_)—Miss M were to be married. Everything was arranged. The wedding was to take place on the last day of the year. Exactly six months and four days before the appointed day—I remember the date because the coincidence struck me as peculiar at the time—Q came to me late in the evening in great distress. He had just had, he said, a premonition of his own death. (_Comes down_ R.) That evening while sitting with Miss M on the verandah of her house he had distinctly seen a projection of the dog R pass along the road. Gnoof. One moment. Did you not say that the dog’s name was Z? Annerly(_frowning_). Quite so. Z, or more correctly ZR, since Q was in the habit, perhaps from motives of affection, of calling him R as well as Z. Well then, the projection or phanogram of the dog passed in front of them so plainly that Miss M swore that she could have believed that it was the dog himself. Opposite the house, the phantasm stopped for a moment and wagged its tail. (_He wags his finger._) Then it passed on and quite suddenly disappeared around the corner of a stone wall as if hidden by the bricks. What made the thing still more mysterious was that Miss M’s mother who is partially blind had only partially seen the dog. Gnoof(_repeating and writing_). “—had only partially seen the dog.” Yes? Annerly(_moving up stage_). This singular coincidence was interpreted by Q no doubt correctly, to indicate his own approaching death. I did what I could to remove this feeling, but it was impossible to do so, and he presently wrung my hand and left me firmly convinced that he would not live till morning. (_Sits_ R. _at table_ C.) Gnoof. Good Heavens! And he died that night? Annerly. No. He did not. That is the inexplicable part of it. Gnoof(_sympathetically_). Tell me about it. Annerly. He rose that morning as usual, dressed himself with his customary care, omitting none of his clothes—make a note of that!—and walked down to his office at the usual hour. He told me afterwards that he remembered the circumstances so clearly from the fact that he had gone to the office by the usual route instead of taking any other direction. Gnoof. Stop a moment. Did anything unusual happen to mark that particular day? Annerly. I anticipated that you would ask that question, but as far as I can gather absolutely nothing happened. Gnoof(_breathless with excitement_). And did he die the next night? Annerly. No, he did not. Gnoof(_after a pause_). My dear Annerly, our relations, of course, have hitherto only been of a formal character, and I must not assume too great an intimacy, but you can imagine how eager I am to hear the rest of this astounding narrative. Annerly. You shall. Q went to his office each day after that with absolute regularity. He saw Miss M regularly and the time fixed for their marriage drew nearer each day. Gnoof. Each day? Annerly. Yes, every day. For some time before his marriage I saw but little of him, but two weeks before that event I passed Q one day in the street. He seemed for a moment about to stop, then he raised his hat, smiled and passed on. Gnoof. One moment. If you will allow me a question that seems of importance, did he pass on, and then smile and raise his hat, or did he smile in his hat, raise it and then pass on afterwards? Annerly(_rising and moving down_ R.). Your question is quite justified, though I think I can answer with perfect accuracy that he first smiled (_he smiles_), then stopped smiling (_he also stops_), and raised his hat (_he lifts his hand_), and then stopped raising his hat (_he lowers his hand_) and passed on. (_He crosses_ L.) Gnoof. Good. (_He jots it down._) Annerly. However, the essential fact is this. On the day appointed for the wedding, Q and Miss M were duly married. (_He is now just_ L. _of_ GNOOF.) Gnoof(_gasping_). Impossible. Duly married, both of them! Annerly. Yes. Both at the same time. After the wedding Mr. and Mrs. Q—— Gnoof(_perplexed_). Mr. and Mrs. Q? Annerly. Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Q, for after the wedding Miss M took the name of Q, left England and went out to Australia, where they were to reside. Then, until last night (_he crosses_ R.) I heard nothing whatever of Q for a year and a half. Gnoof(_trembling with excitement_). And last night? Annerly(_very quietly_). Last night Q appeared in this room, or rather a phantasm or psychic manifestation of him. He seemed in great distress, made gestures which I could not understand and kept turning his trouser pockets inside out. Gnoof(_who has his pencil sticking out of his mouth_). His trouser pockets? Annerly. Yes, like this. (_He illustrates the behaviour of Q in the matter of the trouser pockets._) I was too spellbound to question him and tried in vain to divine his meaning. Presently the phantasm seized a pencil from the table—(_He snatches the pencil from_ GNOOF’S _mouth_)—and wrote the words “forty-nine pounds, nineteen shillings and eightpence to-morrow night, urgent.” (_He writes this on table._) Gnoof(_rising, walking round to back of table and scrutinizing the inscription_). How do you interpret the meaning which Q’s phanogram meant to convey? Annerly. I think it means this. Q, who is evidently dead, meant to visualize that fact, meant so to speak to deatomize the idea that he was demonetized. Gnoof. Demonetized? (_They are side by side behind table._) Annerly. Yes, stony. Suffering from cramp in the kick. Gnoof. Cramp in the kick? What on earth is that? Annerly(_pettishly_). Oh, it means broke to the wide. (_He moves_ R.). You really ought to go out more. . . . Q is evidently in urgent need of the sum of forty-nine pounds nineteen shillings and eightpence. Gnoof. And how do you intend to get it to him? Annerly. Ah! . . . I intend to try a bold and daring experiment, which, if it succeeds, will bring us into immediate connection with the world of spirits. My plan is to leave the money here upon the edge of the table. Then, if after the necessary ritual has been observed it has gone, I shall know that Q has contrived to deastralize himself and has taken the money. The only question is do you happen to have forty-nine pounds, nineteen and eightpence about you? I myself, unfortunately, have nothing but small change. Gnoof. My dear Annerly, by a piece of rare good fortune I happen to-day to have drawn my month’s salary. Here it is, a hundred pounds in notes. Annerly(_to himself_). Splendid! . . . . Now let us place fifty pounds of them on the edge of the table. It is fourpence more than Q wants but I dare say he’ll find some use for it, especially in a world of spirits. Now I want you to follow my instructions implicitly. First of all we place the table in the middle of the room. It is already there. The chairs—(_he picks up chair_ R. _of table and_ GNOOF _picks up that on_ L.)—must be carefully set against the wall and so placed that no two of them occupy the same place as any other two. (_They place the two chairs against back wall._) The pictures and ornaments about the room are to be left entirely undisturbed. The waste paper basket (GNOOF _dives under the table after the basket_) must be reversed so that its contents, if any, rest on the floor of the room instead of the wicker base of the basket. (GNOOF _reverses the waste paper basket_.) Good! The ritual also prescribes that one of the participating parties shall take off his boots. Gnoof(_climbing out from under the table_). Oh, may I? Annerly. Yes, I thought of you. Gnoof(_as he takes off his slippers_). I must admit to you, my dear Annerly, that I am not without misgivings about the success of the experiment. (_He is kneeling with his arms resting on_ L. _of table_.) My own mental temperament and disposition may not be of the precise kind necessary for its success. Annerly(_standing above table_). My dear friend, pray have no alarm on that score. I am sure that the event will show that for psychic work of this character your mind is a media—(_he puts a finger on_ GNOOF’S _forehead_)—or if the word is better, a transparency of the very first order. Gnoof(_beaming with delight_). Do you really think so? Annerly. I do. Now it only remains for us to bind up our eyes and await the advent of Q in the adjoining rooms. According to the ritual sixty seconds is ample time for the spirit to manifest itself and you had better count the seconds on your side, noiselessly of course, until you reach sixty. You will wait in that room (_indicating right_) and I in the hall (_indicating_ L.C.). There are no other means of access to the room so that if the money goes we shall know that it has safely reached Q. Now before we put on the eye-bandages kindly perform these psychic exercises with me. (_He proceeds to make ridiculous wavings in the air with his hands, all of which_ GNOOF _repeats_.) Good. Now tie this round your head. (_They both bandage their eyes and proceed on tiptoe towards their respective doors._) Gnoof(_as_ ANNERLY _opens the door_ L.C.). Oh, Annerly, my dear fellow, if we should fail. Doesn’t your very soul tremble at the possibility? Annerly(_looking back_). My dear Gnoof, I think I may express myself as quietly confident. (_He goes off_ L.C. _and_ GNOOF _goes off_ R. _Immediately they are off_ DORA DNEIPER _rushes out from behind the screen, grabs the banknotes which she thrusts into her bag and with a mumbled_ “Where are those four coppers?” _extracts four pennies from her bag and places them on the side of the table. She then darts back behind the screen. Now the door_ L.C. _opens and_ ANNERLY _comes in. He has pushed the bandage up from his eyes to the top of his forehead. He tiptoes down to the table where he stares at the fourpence as if he had been stung._) Annerly(_beside himself with surprise and, disgust_). Great Scott! The blessed stuff has gone. Four coppers! What the devil——! (_The voice of_ GNOOF _is heard off_ R.) Gnoof(_calling_). Annerly, Annerly, the sixty seconds are up and I have heard rustlings. Annerly(_replacing his bandage and going through door_ L.). So have I! So have I. I think we’ve waited quite long enough. Come along in, Gnoof. (GNOOF _and_ ANNERLY _enter from_ R. _and_ L.C. _They both go down to the table removing their eye-bandages._) Gnoof(_with a wild yell of delight_). It’s gone! It’s gone! The fifty pounds are gone. And look, Annerly, my dear, dear fellow, he has honourably left us fourpence change. What a triumph! It is wonderful. Epoch making. To think that we are in direct monetary communication with the spirit world. Annerly(_who has been peering all round, under the table and elsewhere in search for the missing notes_). Yes, yes, it’s certainly very remarkable. In fact it’s the damned funniest thing I ever struck in my life. Gnoof. And this fourpence! These four bronze coins! They have come from the astral sphere. We must have two each, my dear Annerly, and set them in gold and diamonds to suspend from our watch chains. Annerly(_crossing_ R.). Oh, I don’t want the damned man’s coppers. Gnoof. And the glorious part of it is, of course, that what we have done once we can do again. Annerly(_turning sharply_). What’s that? Gnoof. I say that there seems no reason why there should not be a renewal of our inter-communication with the spirit world. Annerly. By Jove, yes. That is one redeeming feature of the situation. You have another fifty pounds about you, haven’t you? Gnoof. Certainly, my dear fellow. But alas, alas! Annerly. What are you alassing about? Gnoof. How can we dare. We must wait until we are asked. Your friend Q would probably regard it as a liberty and decline to take away money which he did not need. We must not pauperize Q. Annerly. I wish you wouldn’t be so beastly squeamish. Gnoof. But I ask you, dare we repeat the experiment if you don’t receive a second invitation? Annerly(_suddenly becoming transfixed_). By Jove, Gnoof, there is Q. (_He points to the back of the pit and gazes away in the distance as if fascinated by a vision._) Annerly(_running from_ L. _to_ R. _and getting beside_ ). Where? Where? Annerly(_in an ecstatic state_). Over there. Over there by the wall. He is passing through it. Gnoof(_agonized_). Oh where! I wish I could see him. Annerly. You’ve never been introduced so he cannot reveal himself to you. Gnoof. But surely—— Annerly. Don’t talk. The phanogram is communicating with me. He seems to be in distress again. Look. He is making signs. (ANNERLY _affects to repeat the gestures of the phanogram, putting up his ten fingers five times to indicate fifty pounds_.) He is crossing! He is crossing! He has crossed the bar! Gnoof. Gone into the bar. Annerly. Certainly not. Crossed the bar! Don’t you know your Tennyson? Gnoof(_beside himself with excitement_). But what can it mean? What can it mean? Show me those signs again. (ANNERLY _does so_.) How do you interpret them? Annerly. I suspect, in fact I may say that I am confident that Q, for some reason which we cannot fathom, wishes us to leave another fifty pounds for him. Gnoof. By Jove, I believe you’ve hit it. Annerly. I think I have. At any rate let us try. We can but fail. . . . Now place the notes on the table as before. (GNOOF _does so_.) Let me see. We have all the furniture correctly adjusted. It only remains for us to perform the psychic exercises, put on our eye-bandages and leave the room for sixty seconds. (_He makes similar gestures as before_, GNOOF _doing them concurrently. They then tiptoe_ R. _and_ L.) Gnoof(_stopping_). Annerly, my dear, dear friend, I feel sure we shan’t succeed again. Annerly. You are too modest. All will be well as long as you keep your mind so poised as to readily offer a mark for any astral disturbance. (_Exit_ GNOOF R. ANNERLY, _who is determined this time to see what really does happen to the money, pulls off his bandages and waits by the door_ L.C. DORA DNIEPER _runs out from behind the screen and goes down to the table_. ANNERLY _hears her and comes out just as she grabs the notes_.) Annerly(_hissing under his breath_). So it was you, you little devil, was it? How the dickens did you get here? Hand over those notes. Dora. Not likely. Annerly. Oh yes, you shall, you little thief! Dora. That’s the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it, Jack? Annerly. You’re an impudent little hussy. Hand over those notes or I’ll take them by force. Dora. If you lay a finger on me I’ll give the show away to this idiotic friend of yours. Annerly(_pleadingly_). Look here, Dora, I must have the money; My sticks’ll be chucked into the street if I don’t pay. You had the first fifty. Give me the second and we’ll call it square. Dora. I’ll make a bargain with you. Listen! Annerly. Look out. Here he comes. (GNOOF _enters from_ R. _walking elaborately on tiptoe with his eyes bandaged_.) Gnoof(_in a hushed whisper_). I heard voices. Are you there, Annerly? Annerly. Yes, Gnoof. Just here. I believe Q is still in the room. (_He is hustling_ DORA _behind the screen_.) Perhaps we had better not uncover for the moment. Gnoof. Certainly not. Let us give the phanogram plenty of scope. Annerly(_after hiding_ DORA _safely_). The sounds are gone. I think we may safely uncover. (GNOOF _snatches off his bandage and gives a wild yell of delight when he sees that the notes are gone_.) Gnoof. It is wonderful! Wonderful! We have succeeded again. I must report this extraordinary happening to the Society for Psychical Research. Annerly. Oh no, no! You mustn’t dream of doing such a thing. I am almost certain that it would break off our relations with Q. In fact, he as good as told me so. There is no harm in telling you now that the sounds you heard to-night were the voices of Q and me. Q wishes us to gather together all the capital that we can and to send it across to him in order that he may be able to organize a corporate association of phanograms. Gnoof. If only it were possible to-night. But alas! I only had that paltry hundred on me. Annerly. No. Not to-night. Not on any account to-night. Q does not wish it, but to-morrow night certainly. Gnoof. Really. To-morrow night! Annerly. Yes, dear friend. To-morrow night. Here are your slippers (_he is showing him off the door_ L.) and mind, bring all the money that you have—but no more. Gnoof. No more? Annerly. On no account. Q is most strict about that. No one is to send more money than he actually possesses. Good night. Gnoof. Good night, my benefactor. (_Exit_ GNOOF L.C.) (DORA _bursts from behind screen and taking_ ANNERLY’S _hands dances round joyfully with him_.) CURTAIN. =_YOU SHOULD READ_= HOLED OUT IN ONE AN IDEAL ONE ACT PLAY FOR AMATEURS BY CLAUDE RADCLIFFE * * * * * There are two male and three female characters. * * * * * The piece plays for from three quarters to an entire hour, and is funny, without being either silly or vulgar, from the commencement to the end. * * * * * Copies, One Shilling Net Each. The acting fee for Amateurs is Thirty Shillings each and every representation. * * * * * SAMUEL FRENCH, LIMITED, 26 Southampton Street, Strand, LONDON, W.C.2 _Continued from second page of cover._ SCENERY Our stock of scenery consists of:— The Oak Chamber Scene This scene will be found suitable for the purpose of an ordinary interior in nearly all plays requiring a room which is not representing a drawing-room, kitchen or a very poverty-stricken type of room. The kind of furniture used in it will naturally do much to indicate the status of the people inhabiting it. The Grey Panel Scene In place of oak panelling the scene is made up of paper representing grey wood panelling. The Drawing-Room Chamber This scene has been prepared with the same object in view—the increase in both height and width according to requirements. The panel here is of a distinctive design. An Exterior Back Scene in Two Sizes Tree Wings for the Exterior Scene A Tree for erecting in the mid-portion of a Stage The Exterior of a House Consisting of exterior doors, windows and stonework to be made up to any size required. Pillars and Frieze for Proscenium Landscape Backings Sheets of Foliage Fireplaces Street Piece Interior Window and Interior Door * * * * * FULLY ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE sent gratis on application to SAMUEL FRENCH. Ltd., 26 Southampton Street, Strand, W.C.2; or 25 West 45th Street, New York City, U.S.A. Some Plays published recently in French’s Acting Edition * * * * * AREN’T WE ALL? A comedy in three acts. By FREDERICK LONSDALE. 2s. 6d. THE LILIES OF THE FIELD A comedy in three acts. By JOHN HASTINGS TURNER. 2s. 6d. DADDY LONG-LEGS A comedy in four acts. By JEAN WEBSTER. 2s. 6d. THE JOAN DANVERS A play in three acts. By FRANK STAYTON. 2s. 6d. POLLY WITH A PAST A comedy in three acts. By GEORGE MIDDLETON and GUY BOLTON. 2s. 6d. * * * * * The published prices are net TRANSCRIBER NOTES Mis-spelled words and printer errors have been fixed. [The end of _“Q”: A Farce in One Act_ by Stephen Leacock & Basil Hastings]