The Doctor’s Dilemma

very uncalled-for remark about a Jew not understanding the feelings of a gentleman. I must say you Gentiles are very hard to please. You say we are no gentlemen when we lend money; and when we refuse to lend it you say just the same. I didn’t mean to behave badly. As I told him, I might have lent it to him if he had been a Jew himself. Sir Patrick With a grunt. And what did he say to that? Schutzmacher Oh, he began trying to persuade me that he was one of the chosen people⁠—that his artistic faculty showed it, and that his name was as foreign as my own. He said he didn’t really want fifty pounds; that he was only joking; that all he wanted was a couple of sovereigns. B.B. No, no, Mr. Schutzmacher. You invented that last touch. Seriously, now? Schutzmacher No. You can’t improve on Nature in telling stories about gentlemen like Mr. Dubedat. Blenkinsop You certainly do stand by one another, you chosen people, Mr. Schutzmacher. Schutzmacher Not at all. Personally, I like Englishmen better than Jews, and always associate with them. That’s only natural, because, as I am a Jew, there’s nothing interesting in a Jew to me, whereas there is always something interesting and foreign in an Englishman. But in money matters it’s quite different. You see, when an Englishman borrows, all he knows or cares is that he wants money; and he’ll sign anything to get it, without in the least understanding it, or intending to carry out the agreement if it turns out badly for him. In fact, he thinks you a cad if you ask him to carry it out under such circumstances. Just like the Merchant of Venice, you know. But if a Jew makes an agreement, he means to keep it and expects you to keep it. If he wants money for a time, he borrows it and knows he must pay it at the end of the time. If he knows he can’t pay, he begs it as a gift. Ridgeon Come, Loony! do you mean to say that Jews are never rogues and thieves? Schutzmacher Oh, not at all. But I was not talking of criminals. I was comparing honest Englishmen with honest Jews. One of the hotel maids, a pretty, fair-haired woman of about 25, comes from the hotel, rather furtively. She accosts Ridgeon. The Maid I beg your pardon, sir⁠— Ridgeon Eh? The Maid I beg pardon, sir. It’s not about the hotel. I’m not allowed to be on the terrace; and I should be discharged if I were seen speaking to you, unless you were kind enough to say you called me to ask whether the motor has come back from the station yet. Walpole Has it? The Maid Yes, sir. Ridgeon Well, what do you want? The Maid Would you mind, sir, giving me the address of the gentleman that was with you at dinner? Ridgeon Sharply. Yes, of course I should mind very much. You have no right to ask. The Maid Yes, sir, I know it looks like that. But what am I to do? Sir Patrick What’s the matter with you? The Maid Nothing, sir. I want the address: that’s all. B.B. You mean the young gentleman? The Maid Yes, sir: that went to catch the train with the woman he brought with him. Ridgeon The woman! Do you mean the lady who dined here? the gentleman’s wife? The Maid Don’t believe them, sir. She can’t be his wife. I’m his wife. In amazed remonstrance: B.B. My good girl! Ridgeon You his wife! Walpole What! what’s that? Oh, this is getting perfectly fascinating, Ridgeon. The Maid I could run upstairs and get you my marriage lines in a minute, sir, if you doubt my word. He’s Mr. Louis Dubedat, isn’t he? Ridgeon Yes. The Maid Well, sir, you may believe me or not; but I’m the lawful Mrs. Dubedat. Sir Patrick And why aren’t you living with your husband? The Maid We couldn’t afford it, sir. I had thirty pounds saved; and we spent it all on our honeymoon in three weeks, and a lot more that he borrowed. Then I had to go back into service, and he went to London to get work at his drawing; and he never wrote me a line or sent me an address. I never saw nor heard of him again until I caught sight of him from the window going off in the motor with that woman. Sir Patrick Well, that’s two wives to start with. B.B. Now upon my soul I don’t want to be uncharitable; but really I’m beginning to suspect that our young friend is rather careless. Sir Patrick Beginning to think! How long will it take you, man, to find out that he’s a damned young blackguard? Blenkinsop Oh, that’s severe, Sir Patrick, very severe. Of course it’s bigamy; but still he’s very young; and she’s very pretty. Mr. Walpole: may I sponge on you for another of those nice cigarettes of yours? He changes his seat for the one next Walpole. Walpole Certainly. He feels in his pockets. Oh bother! Where⁠—? Suddenly remembering. I say: I recollect now: I passed my cigarette case to Dubedat and he didn’t return it. It was a gold one. The Maid He didn’t mean any harm: he never thinks about things like that, sir. I’ll get it back for you, sir, if you’ll tell me where to find him. Ridgeon What am I to do? Shall I give her the address or not? Sir Patrick Give her your own address; and then we’ll see. To the maid. You’ll have to be content with that for the present, my girl. Ridgeon gives her his card. What’s your name? The Maid Minnie Tinwell, sir. Sir Patrick Well, you write him a letter to care of this gentleman; and it will be sent on. Now be off with you. The Maid Thank you, sir. I’m sure you wouldn’t see me wronged. Thank you all, gentlemen; and excuse the liberty. She goes into the