MANDINGERIO OUTWITTED

By

GABRIEL J. ROBERTS

Dramatis Personae

Mr. Hamilton: A naturalised Englishman of Polish extraction. He has 3 children in Kenya flown over there at the commencement of the Mau Mau crisis.

Mrs Hamilton: His wife (English birth)

Lovelace Fry: A Cypriot wha has been in Britain a very long time studying law.

Mandingerio Bucknor: A Gambian student at the end of his course with the London school of Economics. In the 3 years he has been in Britain he has spent every Christmas at home in The Gambia.

Anamabu Cole: His rival from Nigeria.

Miss Torter: Warden, Methodist International House – a cheerful old lady of 60.

Juno Thomas: A nurse from Sierra Leone training at St. Giles Hospital and also a friend of Lovelace’s.

Margaret Wolfe: A West Indian who also has studied nursing in Britain.

A Lounge in the Methodist International House, London.

The term "International" describes the house perfectly. It is a hostel which provides accommodation for Christian students of all races and colour from Africa, Asia, India, Pakistan, Europe, America, Australia or the Pacific Islands. Even English students who do not normally reside in London but study there are offered accommodation during term time. Hardly a day passes by without an arrival or a departure. The House is in constant state of flux and "Aunty Hilda" does her best to foster friendly and cordial relationship among all residents, however brief the visit. She really enjoys doing this. Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton are on a visit to the House in search of Mandingerio whom they are led to believe have some information about their sons in Kenya.

Hamilton:           Good evening.

Lovelace:            Good evening; can I help you?

Hamilton:           We are looking for a Mr. Bucknor; we were told he was living here at the International House.

Lovelace:            The Gambian you mean?

Hamilton:           That's right, Mr. Mandingerio Bucknor from the Gambia.

Lovelace:            Do sit down; I'll see whether he is in his room. (exit)

Hamilton:           I don't expect we English have anything to complain about the weather. Variety, it has been said, is the spice of life. We certainly have variety in our weather, snow and showers, clouds, rain and sunshine; all in three minutes!

Mrs. Hamilton:    You speak so often and so naturally about the weather that I'm beginning to be convinced that your parents could not have had much Polish blood in them when they brought you forth.

Hamilton:           Now, now, Sue, why do you always try to remind me I am not really English?

Mrs. Hamilton:     I'm sorry, darling (re-enter LOVELACE)

Lovelace:            I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Mr. Bucknor will be here in a few minutes.

Mrs. Hamilton: Are you living in this House'?

Lovelace:            I am one of the permanent residents, madam.

Mrs. Hamilton:   Where do you come from?

Lovelace:            Cyprus.

Hamilton:           Cyprus! Do you think the exile of Makarios was justified?

Lovelace:            If you'll excuse me, Sir, I don't like discussing politics. Let's talk about something else, the weather for example.

Mrs. Hamilton: Good heavens! Not again!

Lovelace:            Sorry, madam, I didn't mean to offend you!

Mrs. Hamilton: It’s all right. We've just been talking about the weather.

Lovelace:            I see. You sound very much like a Polish friend of mine, Mr Hamilton; were you born in Poland?

Hamilton            I am English (in an Oxford accent!)

Mrs. Hamilton:                My husband took up British Citizenship 30 years ago.

Lovelace:            I see. Have you travelled abroad, Mrs. Hamilton?

Mrs. Hamilton:                Only to Poland. We have three children overseas, though; they are in the Army and were flown over to Nairobi when the "Mau Mau' trouble arose. We have actually come to get the latest about them from Mr. Bucknor.

Lovelace:            (with not a little surprise) From Mr. Bucknor ?

Mrs. Hamilton:                Yes, Mr. Catchpole tells us he is the most well informed African he has met in London.

Lovelace:            But Mr. Bucknor is from The Gambia in West Africa and from what I can gather from you, your sons are in Nairobi in East Africa. I can't see how you expect Mr. Bucknor to furnish you with the information you seek. However, here he comes (enter MANDINGERIO) Mr. Bucknor, here are some visitors to see you (exit; Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton rise to meet MANDINGERIO)

Hamilton:           Mr. Bucknor, my wife.

Mrs. Hamilton:                How do you do, Mr. Bucknor.

Mandingerio:     How do you do.

Hamilton:           Do sit down (all sit). My wife and I have three sons in Nairobi. We've not heard from them for the past three months. Having heard from Mr. Catchpole that you were the most well informed native of your Country he has met, we thought you might at least have some news about them.

Mandingerio:     (somewhat baffled) Your children?

Mrs. Hamilton:                Yes, three of them. The last time they wrote they were living in the Harambe Barracks near to the Game Park in…            

Mandingerio:     In Nairobi?

Mrs. Hamilton:                Yes, in Nairobi my dear boy; (heating up) they have been there three years. Last week I heard over the radio that the part of Nairobi they were living in has been sacked by 'Mau Mau' terrorists. Do you know them Mr. Bucknor? Are they still alive? Are my three darling sons still unscathed by… (lost in sobs)

Mandingerio:     (pensively) I know.... I know; there is a lot of killing going on in Kenya at the moment; (then more directly) but my knowledge of it is not better than yours. I read the reports in the newspapers and listen to the commentaries over the radio. I have been just as far from the scene of bloodshed as you are at present.

Hamilton:           You are wasting your time, Sue, I knew he wouldn't tell a thing that was the case. They are all the same, bloody (pregnant with deep emotion)….    

Mandingerio:     (impatiently) My dear, Sir, don't get so heated over the matter. You are labouring under no slight an error (pleadingly). Gambia where I come from, is in West Africa, but Nairobi where your sons presumably are, is in East Africa (ANAMABU enters unnoticed) Between Nairobi and Bathurst there is a wide expanse of land, thousands of miles distant. How on earth you expect me to be in possession of the information you seek I cannot understand. I think you ought to be more reasonable Mr. Hamilton, and not allow your emotions to dominate your reason.

Hamilton:           (indignantly) Emotion and reason! (rising) Let's go away, Sue. (with his nose in the air) I have had enough of this insolent fellow. Who thinks I came all the way from York for a lesson in Geography and ethics. (To MANDINGERIO) You may keep your lecture for someone else; the truth wilt comes out one day. Come along, Sue. (Exit The HAMILTONS fuming).

Anamabu:            (Noticing MANDINGERLO staring blankly in the direction of the HAMILTONS) Mandingerio!     (still gazing) Mandingerio!! What's the matter with you? You look awful.

Mandingerio:     Nothing. I'm just a little confused. (No doubt an understatement).

Anamabu:            (Quoting) The eye, it cannot choose but see. We cannot bid the ear be still. I came in a few minutes ago and heard you talk of Nairobi and Bathurst and of emotion and reason. I noticed also that the couple just left were in a rage. Have you met before?

Mandingerio:     No. This is my first meeting with the Hamiltons and, I hope, it will be the last! I've never met such impossible people in all my life. I couldn't get them to think. They enquire after their sons in Nairobi and expect me to furnish first hand information about them. At first I was baffled by the strangeness of their request; I tried to explain to them the physical impossibility of my having the information they sought and advocated a more intelligent approach to the ideas of space and time, but alas! You yourself saw what happened.

Anamabu:            You shouldn't take these things to heart, Mandingerio. Let's forget about them. What about the dance tonight at the Hammersmith Palais? Have you yet secured a partner?

Mandingerio:     Not yet, Anamabu, I still have to cast my net for a catch. (rising to go) I'm going to the annexe. Should someone call, give me a ring.

Anamabu:            Expecting someone? (exit MANDINGERIO, slamming the door behind him : ANA MABU gives a short laugh and scratches his head, then sits down and tunes the radio—some B.B.C. news programme is on—a brief second later LOVELACE and JUNO enter).

Lovelace:            Hello, Anamabu.

Anamabu:            Hello, Lovelace, I won't be a minute.

Lovelace:            You don't have to go.

Anamabu:            (switches off radio) See you later (exit) (LOVELACE and JUNO are now alone in very close proximity. MISS TORTER enters unnoticed and is thrilled to observe the two students; in spite of her very busy life she finds time to enjoy a situation like this. She stands there arms akimbo and with her usually broad smile, the students still not noticing her; she speaks first)

Miss Torter:       Hello (the students start and turn round in her direction as she approaches them) Can I help you?

Lovelace:            I am one of the family, Aunty Hilda; I live in the annexe. Miss Thomas is a friend of mine; she does nursing at St., Giles. Juno, meet Miss Torter. She is our warden. We call her 'Aunt Hilda'.

Juno:                    How do you do, Miss Torter?

Miss Torter:       How do you do, my dear. How long are you staying with us?

Juno:                    I'll return to the hospital at six; I am on night duty.

Miss Torter:       What a shame. Will you stay and have tea with us? Yes?

Juno:                    Thank you, Miss Torter, I shall be delighted. (LOVELACE clears his throat deliberately).

Miss Torter:       Good girl. You are very welcome. (She turns to go, takes a few paces and halts: she has apparently forgotten some­thing. The students who were staring at each other as if contemplating a verbal conflict, observing a cessation of movement, turn round in her direction just as she also turns; ignoring their somewhat disturbed appearance, she calls) Lovelace?

Lovelace:            Yes, Aunt Hilda?

Miss Torter:       Did you leave Mandingerio at the other house?

Lovelace:            I'm sorry aunt Hilda, the last I saw of Mandingerio was at lunch time, in the dining hall.

Miss Torter:       Just in case you see him, will you tell him to call at the office? I shall be there till tea time.

Lovelace:            I will, Aunt Hilda. (Exit MISS TORTER: LOVELACE and JUNO sit) My dear lady! Why did you accept Aunt Hilda's invitation to stay and have tea?

Juno:                    It was a good offer and I don't on principal, refuse good offers.

Lovelace:            You clot! (She rages and threatens to go away) Didn't we plan to go to the cinema at 2.30? (JUNO struggling hard to control herself, picks up her bag, walks quickly away and slams door behind her. LOVELACE rushes to the door, opens it and calls) Juno! Juno!! (She turns round sulkily)

Juno:                    Yes?

Lovelace:            You know I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But why did you accept aunt Hilda's invitation to tea, when you jolly well knew we should be going out in a few minutes?

Juno:                    And why did you call me names?

Lovelace:            I won't argue with you, Juno. (a brief but tense pause) You know you always win. (JUNO returns; the door is shut and they both sit). What are we going to do now?

Juno:                    We can always leave her a message with someone.

Lovelace:            And what shall we say, may I ask?

Juno:                    Leave that detail to me.

Lovelace:            O.K. (MANDINGERIO BUCKNOR enters; there is some affectation in LOVELACE'S voice). Mr. Bucknor, your gracious presence is solicited....

Mandingerio:     By?

Lovelace:            Our Lady.

Mandingerio:     Aunty Hilda?

Lovelace:            Yes.

Mandingerio:     Thank you.

Lovelace:            She says she wants to see you in the office as soon as you arrive. She will be there till four. (MANDINGERIO looks at his watch, then sits down.)

Mandingerio:     I am sick of this place, Lovelace; the whole set up gets on my poor nerves and the Hamiltons have not made thins better.

Lovelace:            (He ignores the remark and rises). Have you two people met? (MANDINGERIO rises).

Juno:                    How do you do, Mr. Bucknor?

Mandingerio:     How do you do? (Turning in the direction of LOVELACE) Is she. ...

Lovelace:            Yes.

Mandingerio:     I see. (Both sit) I hope you find it pleasant at St. Giles.

Juno:                    Very pleasant, indeed.

Mandingerio:     I am happy to hear that.

Juno:                    Do you like living here, in the House, Mr. Bucknor?

Lovelace:            (teasing) Mandingerio is a cynic; he is incapable of recognis­ing the enduring graces that adorn the material surroundings of this cosmopolitan set-up (and it works!)

Mandingerio:     Enduring graces! Can anything sound more ridiculous? Graces indeed, cloaked in the very transience of superficiali­ty. Aunty Hilda will tell you we are all of one family here! Is that not a travesty of truth itself?

Lovelace:            I don't think so. (still teasing him to talk) Aunty Hilda is like a mother to us.

Mandingerio:     Do you remember what she used to say of this family.... `of whom many are dead, few are living and a countless number yet unborn? Such nonsense!

Lovelace:            Nonsense? Certainly not. The Methodist International House is a living testimony of its reality. Under this one roof and within a fathomless love and care of dear Aunt Hilda, representatives of every colour, race and creed meet and live in perfect harmony. Many that have been through such love and care have since transformed into pure spirit; we, thank God, are still alive; and there is not a shadow of doubt that others will come when we are gone to enjoy and appreciate these privileges you now despise.

Mandingerio:     (as if soliloquising) Equal rights.... equal privileges.... equal responsibilities! Hm! (To LOVELACE) Put your theory into a wastepaper basket and kick the thrash into the sea.

Juno:                    If you believe in the church, Mr. Bucknor, you must believe we are equal, unless, of course, you are a South African.

Mandingerio:     I do believe in the Church. Miss Thomas, but in a very peculiar sense. I respect all its pronouncements, but I do not regard them all as beyond question. Does not the Church protest that all men are equal in the love of God and not. in His sight ? Well I cannot accept the distinction.

Lovelace:            You mean you don't understand?

Mandingerio:     Yes, I don't understand.

Lovelace:            Do you want to?

Mandingerio:     Go on. Lovelace, you have all the answers.

Lovelace:            It is quite simple. That all men are equal in the love of God is obvious enough, for the love of God is broader than the measures of man's mind; we cannot, however, be said to be equal in his sight, for if we, frail as all human beings are, can recognise individual differences not only in the physical features but also in the mental states of individuals, it follows that a superior eye can detect even finer individual differences. Men cannot, therefore, be equal in the sight of God.

Mandingerio:     This is George Orwell cum Lovelace Fry.

Juno:                    How on earth does George Orwell come into the picture? Do you now understand the doctrine of equality?

Mandingerio:     Have you read 'Animal Farm' ?

Juno:                    I haven't.

Mandingerio:     I see. (pause). What have you accomplished now, Lovelace, apart from demonstrating that equality is a myth ?

Lovelace:            `Animal Farm', Juno, is a bitter pill of satire in which George Orwell reduces to the ridiculous the concept of equality.

Juno:                    The trouble with you men is that you read too much. (a bell rings and a thought passes through her mind) Lovelace! (she looks at her watch) It's five minutes to four!

Lovelace:            And what of that?

Juno:                    Too late for the cinema.

Lovelace:            Not too late for tea, though. Did you not accept aunt Hilda's invitation to stay, and partake of her national be­verage that cheer but not inebriate?

Juno:                    Yes, but ....

Lovelace:            But me buts! You always like to have your own way. Let's go. (They rise simultaneously to go) Mandingerio, be seeing you.

Juno:                    Good-bye.

Mandingerio:     Bye! (He follows them out with his eye and shakes his head as if in pity) A moment ago we were discussing the concept of equality and now. ... Well, I never! (He picks up a news­paper glancing at the headlines. ANAMABU COLE enters).

Anamabu:            Allo Boy.

Mandingerio:     Allo boy.

Anamabu:            What about the dance to night.

Mandingerio:     Why don't you mind your own business, Anamabu.

Anamabu:            One doesn't stand much chance in this wretched place. (They both give a short but artificial laugh).

Mandingerio:     You've got a point there. I wish I were at home; then secur­ing a partner for a dance would be no problem.

Anamabu:            When do you sail?

Mandingerio:     By the next Tarapa.

Anamabu:            Lucky you!

Mandingerio:     You are on the same Tarapa, aren't you?

Anamabu:            Not yet confirmed. I may yet have to put up with this wretched place for another six weeks.

Mandingerio:     Why? Have you not yet been infected by the radioactive dust of those enduring graces that adorn the material surroundings of this cosmopolitan set-up?

Anamabu:            Are you quoting?

Mandingerio:     Partly. (with a short laugh).

Anamabu:            I see (rises). May I fetch you some tea?

Mandingerio:     Please. (Exit ANAMABU: a lady enters with cases and a coat; she has just arrived in the House) Can I help you?

Miss Wolfe:        (a distinct West Indian accent). This is 4, Invernes Terrace, isn't it?

Mandingerio:     Quite correct. This is the Methodist International House.

Miss Wolfe         Can I see Miss Torter, the warden?

Mandingerio:     Oh yes, certainly. She will be here any minute now. Do sit down (They sit). Which part of the West Indies do you come from?

Miss Wolfe         How did you guess?

Mandingerio:     Intuition.

Miss Wolfe         I thought that was the prerogative of women.

Mandingerio:     Some men have it too.

Miss Wolfe         All right, then, I come from Jamaica. The 'Tropical Paradise'.

Miss Wolfe         Tropical Paradise?

Mandingerio:     Yes. An English missionary friend of mine recently left London to take up an appointment in your country. The very first sentence of his letter to me reads: 'Jamaica is a tropical paradise'; and he assured me that was no hyperbole.

Miss Wolfe         Well, compared with London in February, I dare say Jamaica is all that.

Mandingerio:     How I long to get to the West Indies—to Trinidad or Jamaica; I should then be sure of two things.

Miss Wolfe         What are the two things?

Mandingerio:     Of tasting the joys of paradise and being admitted in your hospital in Kingston.

Miss Wolfe         My hospital?

Mandingerio:     By then you should have qualified with a string of S.R.N, S.C.M., R.M.M. etc. etc., etc.

Miss Wolfe         I must say you have a remarkable intuition sense.

Mandingerio:     I can always tell a Nurse when I see one.

Miss Wolfe         Where do you come from?

Mandingerio:     The Gambia.

Miss Wolfe         Where is that?

Mandingerio:     West Africa.

Miss Wolfe         I've never heard of this place.

Mandingerio:     Probably because it is the smallest and most stable of Her Majesty's domains in Africa (enters ANAMABU with a cup of tea which he offers MANDINGERIO)

Anamabu:            Sugar?

Mandingerio:     No, thanks. (Pause; dead silence; it would appear MANDINGERIO and ANAMABU have been great rivals; this accounts for the former's hesitation to introduce his "Catch")

Anamabu:            Won't you introduce me, Mandingerio?

Mandingerio:     I'm sorry. Anamabu. meet a friend of mine, Miss       

Miss Wolfe         Miss Wolfe .... (pause) .    . Margaret Wolfe.

Anamabu:            How do you do, Miss Wolfe?

Miss Wolfe         How do you do.

(MANDINGERIO sits down; it is obvious he wants ANAMABU to feel himself an awkward third; he

did not even offer him a seat; however ANAMABU sits himself down and begins munching a piece of cake).

Anamabu:            I gather the dance tonight is going to be excellent. I'm still in the process of      

Mandingerio:     Won't you fetch a cup of tea for Miss Wolfe?

Anamabu:            Certainly ! (He is on his feet like a flash).

Miss Wolfe         Not for me, thanks; don't you er…

Mandingerio:     (TO MISS WOLFE) Please. (Then a suggestive look in the direction of ANAMABU who leaves immediately). You don't have to take any notice of the tea, Miss Wolfe. Could I call you Margaret?

Miss Wolfe         If you wish.

Mandingerio:     Ever since you came in, I have been dying to ask you Margaret about joining me to the dance tonight at the Palais—Hammersmith Palais.

Miss Wolfe         This I must say, is grossly inconsiderate of you. I don't even yet know whether I have a room in the House or not. Miss Torter has been a very long time in coming.

Mandingerio:     Your room number is 40.

Miss Wolfe         How do you know that ?

Mandingerio:     It was on the notice board since the morning. I have been wondering who this Miss Wolfe might be.

Miss Wolfe         Do I fit the picture you conjured up in your mind?

Mandingerio:     Perfcctly (She smiles). Not really, I thought she was going to be a French L ady front Strasbourg, on her way to a Mission Station in Algeria. We have quite a number of that sort in the House.

Miss Wolfe         You are very clever.

Mandingerio:     Thank you. But, will you come with me to the dance?

Miss Wolfe         I have been travelling all day; I am very tired. What I need now is rest—just that.

Mandingerio:     A change is as good as a rest, Margaret. You'll sleep sooner and sounder after the dance. Will you come with me? (Before she could reply, ANAMABU appears with a cup of tea).

Anamabu:            This is the last cup, Miss Wolfe.

Miss Wolfe         Thank you very much. I don't feel like having the tea now, anyway.

Anamabu:            Well, if that is the case.... (He drinks) Have you yet made up your mind Mandingerio?

Mandingerio:     About?

Anamabu:            Hammersmith Palais, of course.

Mandingerio:     Yes, I shall....

Anamabu:            Have you got a partner?

Mandingerio:     Yes.

Anamabu:            Lucky you! I haven't. In fact, I have been thinking of asking Miss Wolfe to grant me the privilege....

Mandingerio:     Miss Wolfe is my partner for tonight's dance.

Anamabu:            All right, Mandingerio, you win! If you'll excuse me Miss Wolfe .... (exit).

Miss Wolfe         What does he mean by that?

Mandingerio:     Don't take him too seriously. I'll go and tell Miss Torter you're here (exits; MISS WOLFE gets up, takes out a mir­ror and ponds and begins to apply powder on her face; perhaps she is humming a romantic tune: she has only just finished when Miss TORTER and MANDINGERIO arrive).

Miss Torter:       Well Margaret; I've been expecting you since midday.

Miss Wolfe         My train was delayed at Kettering for five hours.

Miss Torter:       Bad Luck. Are these your cases? Your room is on the second floor.

Mandingerio:     (TO MISS WOLFE, offering her assistance with the cases). May I help? (The door bell rings).

Miss Torter:       Oh dear, there it goes again. I'll see who it is; Mandingerio. (Their eyes meet) you take Margaret to her room; it's the one next to the lift; she shares it with Hwong Tung, the Chinese girl. Go on, Margaret, Mandingerio will do the introductions. (Exit MISS TORTER: MANDINGERIO picks up MESS WOLFE'S cases again).

Mandingerio:     (leading the way). Shall we? (appropriate noises of retiring footsteps—the door opens and shuts—fade—approaching with someone whistling a dance tune. The whistling stops, there are movements on the stage of someone pacing up and down. There is a sudden hush; then ANAMABU Soliloquises).

Anamabu:            This fellow, Mandingerio is a fool. He wants to make away with the prettiest girl in the world and he expects me to sit back and enjoy the drama! Ha! ha! ha! (a real jolly good laugh of course). We shall see who's who. We shall deter­mine tonight who is the more ingenious player. But who the Dickens does he think he is? If I am Anamabu and he Mandingerio, then Margaret Wolfe is going to the dance with me. He must have thought I was an idiot when he sent me off to get her a cup of tea, while he talked over her pliant heart into joining him to the dance. Ha! ha! ha! But, hush! here she comes. May Mercury be my speed and Minerva my champion! (Enter MISS WOLFE, ANAMABU turns round in admiration). Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers o f Ilium ? Sweet Margaret ....

Miss Wolfe         Where is your friend?

Anamabu:            Who? Mandingerio?

Miss Wolfe         Yes, Mandingerio Bucknor.

Anamabu:            Ha! ha! ha! (laughs heartily) Did you come to meet him here?

Miss Wolfe         We are going to the dance together.

Anamabu:            Good heavens! This is one of his tricks, to be sure. I must say it is beastly of him to subject the fairest of mortals to such a diabolical trick.

Miss Wolfe         What trick?

Anamabu:            Mandingerio is on his way to the Gaumont with Sheila.

Miss Wolfe         Who is Sheila?

Anamabu:            His fiancee.

Miss Wolfe         I see. (Somewhat depressed). My father warned me to beware of strangers. Are you also going to the Gaumont?

Anamabu:            No. I am going to the Hammersmith Palais.

Miss Wolfe         Who is your partner?

Anamabu:            That is the question. I think I shall go alone and hope I shall find someone to dance with.

Miss Wolfe         It is frustrating to have to go back to bed after having made up my mind to go to this dance. I think I shall go alone and hope I shall find someone to dance with.

Anamabu:            Shall we both go alone and hope....

Miss Wolfe         You are cute, aren't you?

Anamabu:            But remember your father warned you against strange men!

Miss Wolfe         Don't be silly. Are you coming? (Turning to go).

Anamabu:            Well, if you insist.

(He follows her, slightly shaking his head : exit ANAMABU and MISS WOLFE, Left; enter MANDINGERIO, right in evening dress or lounge suit: he paces up and down, as if waiting for someone. He hums the tune "Around the World" for a second or two).

Mandingerio:     I wonder who is coming first, Sheila or Margaret? If it is Sheila, I'll go to the Gaumont; if Margaret, Hammersmith Palais is the place tonight: if both arrive at the same time I'll stay were I am, right here. As a dancer, Sheila is a bore; Margaret tells me she loathes the cinema. I love Sheila for her lively intellect; nothing drives me on to Margaret but her magnetism. 'Unlike poles attract each other' ; so reads a fundamental law of human relationships; but is not Sheila as unlike me as Margaret ? Perhaps Margaret is more unlike me than Sheila. (Looking at his watch) They are both late; ten minutes. Let me sit down and calm myself. (sits down; then gets up from his seat, goes to the shelf and picks up a magazine; he returns to his seat and is apparently reading; he soon abandons the magazine and goes to the table to get a newspaper; he certainly looks rather restless). This is the limit of my endurance. What! Jilted? Mandingerio Bucknor jilted by female caprice? No! There must be some superior artifice behind it all. Anamabu. I cannot acquit you. (Looking at his watch). Ninety minutes! The game is up. I must go and sleep. (Enter LOVELACE).

Lovelace:            Hello, Mandingerio, in one of your pensive moods? Why didn't you attend the dance? The boys are all there. I left early to see Lenore safely in her last train for Fulham. I didn't feel like dancing after that. Anamabu is having a rollicking time with a smasher.

Mandingerio:     Anamabu, did you say?

Lovelace:            Yes, Anamabu. He is there with a West Indian beauty. I didn't know where he got that one. but she was well fished for. She is a nonpareil. She won the beauty contest. I danced with her once and we won the waltz competition. She won the quick step trophy with Anamabu and the tango prize with Sylvester. She says she is coming to stay in the House for a few days.

Mandingerio:     She is already staying in the house. She shares room 40 with the Chinese girl.

Lovelace:            Have you met her?

Mandingerio:     We planned to go to the dance together.

Lovelace:            What! Ha! ha! ha! So this is what Sheila was talking about.

Mandingerio:     Sheila?

Lovelace:            I danced with her several times; she attended the dance alone. Apparently, she was told you were planning to attend the dance with another girl and she didn't want to be in your way. I thought she was making up a story, until now.

Mandingerio:     All this is Anamabu's doing. I am going to commit murder tonight.

Lovelace:            Don't be stupid! Did you come all the way from The Gambia to spend two long years in this country, only to get yourself hanged within such a short time of your return­ing home? You have often told me that women were not worth bothering about. 0, full of contradiction is the thing called man!

Mandingerio:     Did you say you saw both Sheila and Margaret at the dance?

Lovelace:            I saw Sheila. I don't know who Margaret is.

Mandingerio:     The West Indian girl with Anamabu. Her name is Margaret Wolfe.

Lovelace:            And she is living in this House?

Mandingerio:     That is correct.

Lovelace:            I don't blame Anamabu in the least for playing his cards so well.

Mandingerio:     0, miseras hominum mentes, o pectora caeca!

Lovelace:            (After a pause). You think that will help? (He pats him on the shoulder). Come, come, my friend and let's talk about more important matters. (They sit). What time do you leave on Thursday?

Mandingerio:     Quite early. About seven.

Lovelace:            You can't.

Mandingerio:     Why not ?

Lovelace:            The boat train leaves Euston Station at ten. You must stay and have breakfast; you'll need it. A taxi usually takes 30 minutes to get to Euston; if you leave here at nine you should be there in good time. Is your sister travelling too?

Mandingerio:     No. She has another year at Whitelands. She will be home next summer.

Lovelace:            I received a letter from the Truloves. They are sorry you won't be able to spend a few days with them before you leave.

Mandingerio:     I have explained the situation to Mr. Trulove; he quite understands. Kainde and her friend Eku will be spending next week-end with them.

Lovelace:            That is very good of her. (He yawns).

Mandingerio:     You are tired, Lovelace. Go to bed.

Lovelace:            (Yawns again). I think I should, really. I am feeling beastly tired. Coming?

Mandingerio:     No, Lovelace. I'll stay a little longer.

Lovelace:            O.K. then. Goodnight (he rises and walks towards the door. with one hand on the door, he turns round). And don't you do anything stupid!

(Exit LOVELACE shutting the door behind him ; MANDINGERIO rises,: he has decided to go to bed. At the door he pauses as if to have a last look at the scene of his frustration. ANAMABU and MISS WOLFE enter from opposite end: the eyes of the trio meet and the two men stare each other in the face for a moment. Dead silence. It is ANAMABU who speaks).

Anamabu:            I'm sorry, Mandingerio.

(Without a word, MANDINGERIO leaves fuming, slamming the door behind him).

CURT A I N