Enigma and Amnesia

Scene 1

Dim lights. Opening music: Brandenburg Concerto 2, Allegro--J. S. Bach

Cut music suddenly. Lights flash. The noise of brakes screeching. A woman screams. Curtain up.

Pause. Raise lights

Scene 2

Set: A hospital room takes up half the stage, positioned on stage right; the stage left is the directly adjacent waiting area. There is a single bed in the ward, parallel with the audience. The office has a door leading offstage, one leading into the ward, and a line of cold wooden chairs lining the wall. An unattended pigeonhole desk with a bell and telephone are placed nearby.

MARJORIE: (Slim and compact, she has a common, quiet look to her. Her skin and coloring is beautiful, but not in an extraordinary way. She has an alluring face, round and dainty. Her legs and hands are very shapely. Is about 30, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She groans.) Ugh…(Sits up, but instantly falls back as though struck by an invisible blow. She is wearing a pastel starched gown. Puts hand to bandaged head.) What’s wrong with my head…ugh…(Sits up again, more carefully this time. Leans shoulders against the headboard.)…Where am I? (Massages brow.) My goodness, this is more painful than anything…whatever did I do to myself? (Notices a pile of clothing on the bed-stand.)These are mine…I suppose? Whose would they be otherwise? (Picks up skirt, shirt, etc., gets out of bed on the stage side, stands behind opaque dressing curtain to dress. Emerges with gown in hand and skirt + blouse on. Dons the coat, hat, and gloves.) What pain, what pain…Don't they have any aspirin anywhere? (Puts on shoes, which were left conveniently by the foot of the bed) After all, if this is undoubtedly a hospital; aren't they bound to have such things? (Adjusts hat in mirror by the door, and steps out uneasily into the antechamber.)

HENRY: (Lean and wiry, but with a certain genteel air about him that no disguise could displace. He limps slightly from a wartime injury in the left leg. Is about 33, rather tall, with eyes of dark, rich chocolate brown that sometimes deepens to black, and medium brown hair, cut neatly and becomingly. He comes into the room with the doctor from offstage.) But she will be all right, won't she, doctor? Even if she does suffer from amnesia as you said?

DOCTOR: (Is a nondescript character of perhaps 60.) Of course, Mr. Martin. (Notices MARJORIE.) Ah! The sleeping beauty awakes at last!

MARJORIE: (Gives a quick laugh) Yes, that which I have, but I do not feel like a beauty at all.

HENRY: (Earnestly)You don't look all that terrible.

MARJORIE: You are too kind. (Turns to the doctor) Would it be too much to ask how I came to be here? This entire place is unfamiliar to me.

DOCTOR: You are in Cavendish hospital, my dear girl. This kind gentleman saw you as you walked down Piccadilly early this morning and were hit by a lunatic cab driver. He brought you here. I am Dr. Smithers. As I evaluated you, I found that you have had a nasty bump on the front of your head, but no major injuries other than that. You ought to be right as rain in a few days. However, in the meantime, if you like, you could visit a certain druggist friend I know if you need some sleeping powder to help reduce the pain at night.

MARJORIE: (Feels forehead with hand.) Thank you. How much do I owe you, doctor?

DOCTOR: Nothing; this young gentleman has taken care of the bill.

MARJORIE: (To HENRY) You didn't!

HENRY: Oh yes, I did! It's the least I could do.

MARJORIE: (To HENRY) So…you're the man who brought me here. Are you merely a friend or do we have some sort of…special relationship? (She raises her eyebrows in question.)

HENRY: (Laughs) No. But certainly, if we did, would I need to tell you that?

MARJORIE: (Seriously) Well, you see, I didn't remember if I…well…(Is flustered)…if I were engaged or anything of that nature.

HENRY: What do you mean?

DOCTOR: (Abruptly) Excuse me, but I have matters to attend… (Exits)

MARJORIE: (To DOCTOR) Oh! But of course. Thank you sir/madam. (To HENRY) Well, what I mean is, I don't remember my name, my address, my family, or anything else about myself, come to think of it. (Whispers) Is that normal?

HENRY: Well, considering the fact that you had a near escape from death, I would say that yes, it's quite normal. The doctor said so to me, in fact.

MARJORIE: (Sighs) That's a relief.

HENRY: Well, there is one small problem.

MARJORIE: (Alert) What is that?

HENRY: How are we going to get you home if we don't know anything about you?

MARJORIE: Wait, you don't know anything about me?

HENRY: Not a single thing. I just was walking by when you stepped off the curb and that damned cab hit you, nearly crushed you it did. I just picked you right on up and brought you here.

MARJORIE: I'm very grateful. (Pauses) But I suppose then, there is a problem.

HENRY: Undoubtedly. (Pauses) Wait, I have an idea; we can check your clothing labels for your name. Then at least I'll know what to call you.

MARJORIE: Wait--I don't know what to call you, and you seem to know exactly who you are.

HENRY: Oh, how stupid of me. I'm Henry. Henry Martin. (Proffers hand for shaking)

MARJORIE: (Shakes HENRY's hand) Pleased to meet you, Henry. (Forgets for a moment to let go of his hand once she's finished shaking it. Flustered, draws hand away a bit too abruptly.) All right, so now for the clothing labels. (Turns cuff of sleeve inside out.) Hm. This says my name is 'Marjorie Bartholomew.'

HENRY: Marjorie. I like that.

MARJORIE: (Laughs) I should hope you did. (Puts hand to head and winces.) Remind me not to laugh, if possible.

HENRY: I'll be serious as a preacher. (Puts on exaggerated scowl of seriousness.)

MARJORIE: (Laughs harder) Do stop!

HENRY: All right. (Ceases antic) Now let me see…(Begins to rifle through desk) Ah!

(Emerges with a telephone directory) Here's one.

MARJORIE: Clever!

HENRY: (Flips open book) Thanks, I rather thought so myself. (Opens book) Hm. (Leafs through pages as he speaks) A-b…A-t…A-x…ah, here: B-a…B-a-n…B-a-r. Bartholomew. (Scrolls finger down page) Well there are absolutely no Marjorie Bartholomew's in this book.

MARJORIE: (Crestfallen) Oh.

HENRY: (Pauses a moment) We could call each of the Bartholomew's in this book and see if any of them are missing a Marjorie…but that'd take rather a long time.

MARJORIE: (Suddenly drops purse.) Oh! (Her keys fall out of it.)

HENRY: (Excited) Wait, let me see those!

MARJORIE: Oh. Right. (Tosses HENRY the keys. HENRY sits in one of the chairs along the wall, closest one to her. He examines then keys)

HENRY: Look at the engraving: 1221 Windsor Grate, Windsor Grate House, Flat #13. Dear me, thirteen--the devil's number.

MARJORIE: Lovely. Do we now assume that that is my place of residence?

HENRY: It's a good a guess as any. Is there anything else that might be of some assistance to us?

MARJORIE: …A blank notepad, two pencils, a English-French dictionary, two one-pound notes, a map of the underground…and a hat-pin.

HENRY: Wait. Are there any markings on the map?

MARJORIE: No…

HENRY: Then that is of no help to us. (Stands) M'lady, would you care for an escort home?

MARJORIE: Don't you dare make me laugh!

HENRY: I wouldn't dream of it. (Sets on facetious 'serious' face once again, sending MARJORIE into a fit of laughter as she takes his arm and they leave the room.)

Dim Lights, music: Menuet--Boccherini

Raise lights, dim music

Scene 2

Set: Inside MARJORIE's flat. It is relatively simple, with a small kitchen, door leading into a corridor, a sitting room that is joined to the kitchen, and a bed in the far corner. There are only windows along the back wall. Everything is topsy-turvy; clothes have been thrown out of drawers, papers scattered all over every surface and floor, shoes are dispersed everywhere. Dishes are thrown on the counter, some broken. Someone has obviously made a very hasty search.

MARJORIE: (Enters apartment from unseen corridor offstage into apartment, is with HENRY) And so I was telling the poor dear--(Sees mess)--Good gracious! What happened?

HENRY: What the deuce? (Closes door behind them.) What could have happened here?

MARJORIE: I must have been robbed…(Collapses unhappily in a chair, sighing heavily)

HENRY: Today is not a wonderful day for you.

MARJORIE: (Smiles sadly) How did you know? (Takes off hat, lifts hat rack from the floor with her foot. Proceeds to place hat on it, and raises it to a standing position, all without moving from her seat.)

HENRY: So…what are you going to do?

MARJORIE: Well, that is the problem. I don't want to call the police if they didn't take anything. But I can't know if they took anything if I don't know what I own in the first place.

HENRY: You should call the police, no matter.

MARJORIE: What's the use of them? I'll have to tidy up just the same afterwards.

HENRY: If that's all you're worried about--I'll help you clean up, Marjorie.

MARJORIE: Really?

HENRY: It would be my pleasure.

MARJORIE: You're too kind.

HENRY: You go on to bed. I'll tidy up as best I can.

MARJORIE: All right. If you insist. (Places coat, gloves, and purse on table. Walks to bed, throwing shoes at the base of a cabinet as she takes them off.)

Curtain, lights stay dark. Music: Meditation from Thais.

Curtain up.

HENRY: (Is making eggs and toast. Everything is immaculate within the apartment.)

MARJORIE: (Awakes, stands, walks to kitchen.) How long has it been?

HENRY: Two hours or so. This is all I could conjure up from the refrigerator, I hope you don't mind.

MARJORIE: (Nods) Not at all. Thank you for all your help to me today. You both saved my life and have helped me start putting my world back together. I really don’t know how to repay you.

HENRY: Don't even pay it a thought. (Picks up his hat) Well, enjoy your eggs. I must be off…promised my boss to go in late and finish something tonight regarding the minister's agenda that, of course, cannot wait even seven hours.

MARJORIE: What is your business?

HENRY: Um…journalism.

MARJORIE: No wonder. Only writers are chivalrous nowadays because they aren't afraid of romance.

HENRY: (Laughs) You flatter me too much. I am intensely afraid of love.

MARJORIE: Not love, exactly, but how to respect women. England's population of boors seems to have increased since the 19th century.

HENRY: (Uncomfortably) Well, maybe so. (Just remembering) Have you remembered anything prior to your accident yet?

MARJORIE: No, unfortunately.

HENRY: A pity. (Moves towards the door.) I really must be going, but I left my card on the table by the door if you ever should want me.

MARJORIE: Thank you again.

HENRY: Don't mention it. (Leaves.)

MARJORIE: (Picks up plate of eggs from the counter. Takes it to the couch, sits and opens a random magazine placed there. A letter falls out.) What's this? (Reads)Addressed to 'Ana Kostalvo. : 1221 Windsor Grate, Windsor Grate House, Flat #13, London, England.' How decidedly odd. This isn't me. (Turns it around) It's already open…(Hesitates whether or not to read it.) No. I shall not read it. It is not addressed to me, though it is addressed to my room. Probably it is from the last tenant. I shall burn it. (Stands, goes to fire, throws it into it.) How would I like it if the person who came here after me got a hold of some of my mail and read it, after all?

(Telephone rings.)

MARJORIE: (Stands, picks up phone off wall hook.) Hullo?

FRANZ: (FRANZ has a very guttural German accent. Spoken through the phone:) Ana! Where have you been? Why not you did come to the Kew Gardens this afternoon?

MARJORIE: What's that? Who do you wish to speak to?

FRANZ: You imbecile! You! Ana Kostalvo, if you forgot!

MARJORIE: I'm sorry, sir, but Ana Kostalvo is not here.

FRANZ: Gott damn you Woman! What is wrong with you?

MARJORIE: Nothing. Ana Kostalvo is moved from here. I am Marjorie Bartholomew, and I wish that you disturb me no more! (Slams phone down.) That was peculiar.

Lights dim, music: Nocturne in E flat Major No. 2--F. Chopin

Cut music. Phone rings. Lights up.

Scene 4

MARJORIE: (Is in process of dressing for day, yawning. Wraps dressing gown around her. Telephone rings shrilly. Picks up phone.) Hullo?

FRANZ: Ach, my schatzie. Is everything fine yet?

MARJORIE: Sir, I am not named Ana. My name is Marjorie Bartholomew. Now please stop harassing me.

FRANZ: Ana, schatzie, you must tell me.

MARJORIE: Sir, I am NOT named ANA!

FRANZ: Fine then. You be that way. But remember this--I have not forgot you. I will never forgot you. Remember your duty as a German, and a lady. (Hangs up.)

MARJORIE: That was…odd…maybe he shan't bother me any more. (Hangs up phone as well. Finishes dressing, goes into kitchen for something to eat. A knock comes on the door. Nervously, MARJORIE takes a metal skewer from the drawer and goes to the door. She opens it cautiously, only to see that it is HENRY. She sighs audibly.)Good gracious! You gave me a scare!

HENRY: Good morning, mademoiselle. I am sorry to have disturbed you.

MARJORIE: (Opens door just a crack wider.) Come in, quickly.

HENRY: (Comes in) What's the--

MARJORIE: Shh! (Looks furtively up and down the corridor, shuts door, locks it.)

HNERY:(Whispers) What's going on? Is there a problem? No more burglars, I pray?

MARJORIE: No, but some very queer telephone calls. A man became very irate last night after you left when I told him that I was not some lady named Ana Kostalvo. Then I found a letter addressed to Ana Kostalvo, at this address, in a magazine.

HENRY: Did you read it? The letter, I mean.

MARJORIE: No! I wouldn't ever read someone else's mail! I burnt it.

HENRY: Alas! You should have kept it. (Sits down, followed by MARJORIE.)

MARJORIE: But that's not the main problem. The problem is that the man called again this morning and said something about my 'duty as a German and a lady.' I'm beginning to get rather nervous about this Ana Kostalvo person, along with the odd German man.

HENRY: You're certain you've never heard his voice before at all?

MARJORIE: No, I've never heard it before.

HENRY: Well, I'm beginning to get a bit nervous about the whole thing myself. Why don't I take you out of here for the day? You could use some time away from this flat, I would--

(Telephone in kitchen rings. HENRY and MARJORIE look at each other)

HENRY: I'll get it. (Hurries into kitchen, picks up phone.)

FRANZ: Now understand, Ana, what's been your problem? (HENRL puts phone down gently on counter, motions for MARJORIE to collect her hat and purse. MARJORIE does this.) You had the plans for the EDM with you yesterday, that is what you said to me on this telephone. You cannot deny what you said. Now listen to me--our lives both are at stake here. The Gestapo (MARJORIE leaves the flat silently.) will have us both shot if you don't get those papers to me…you know how important they are to preventing the British from…(HENRY slams the phone on the hook, walks quickly out the door with MARJORIE.)

Dim lights, music: Fireworks Music, Allegro--G.F. Handel

Raise lights, dim music.

Scene 5

Set: Middle-class restaurant. MARJORIE and HENRY are in formal wear, musing over their wine after dinner. A piano plays somewhere unseen: Berceuse, and a dance floor is onstage, but is empty.

MAJORIE: (Laughing while recounting an anecdote of the day.) …and so the woman in the shop said to me 'So do you want your hat or not?' (HENRY and MARJORIE laugh at this.)

HENRY: I still can't believe that you couldn't remember the Tower of London.

MARJORIE: Well, I suppose that made it even more exhilarating. (Pauses in reflection.) But Henry, what do you suppose I have for a source of income?

HENRY: What do you mean?

MARJORIE: As of right now, I have nothing but the two pounds in my purse--thanks to you paying my way everywhere today.

HENRY: The least I could do.

MARJORIE: And I am grateful to you for it. The circumstances stands, though--where do I receive my living? Am I a shorthand typist? Secretary to a business tycoon? Or just one of those girls with a legacy from her great-grandmother-twice-removed that sustains her for the rest of her life? And in any case, where do I keep my earnings? A bank? A stocking in my top right-hand drawer? Under the rug?

HENRY: (Shakes head.) I wouldn't know. Besides, these aren't good topics to discuss over wine. They make my head spin. Let's change the subject, shall we?

MARJORIE: (Smiles.) If you say so. (Pauses.) So, tell me a little about yourself.

HENRY: (Laughs.) Well, what is there you want to know? I'm 33, well off but not very rich, and I have a small mole behind my right ear.

MARJORIE: All that is very well, but that isn't exactly what I want to know.

HENRY: Would you care to elaborate?

MARJORIE: Right. First off, you never talk about your job or your past. You aren't shy about saying your mind, but you never make references to your family, your childhood, or anything that is not immediately before me.

HENRY: (Uneasily) I'm just of a modest nature. My past was absolutely nothing to pay mention to. (Carefully) My father and mother were happily married, they sent me to Eton like any parents with the means should. My father died in the first great war, and I suppose that I shall die in this one.

MARJORIE: Why is that?

HENRY: (Realizes that he's said too much, tries to cover up.) I…erm…I might be sent to the front rather soon as a field correspondent.

MARJORIE: (Consolingly) It seems to me that you'll be all right as long as you aren't fighting, per se.

HENRY: I wish I could think so. I've just heard too many stories about good writers being blown to bits for the public cause. I'm not eager to be the next, exactly.

MARJORIE: (Puts her hand on HENRY's as it rests on the table. Says as though she is foretelling the future) You won't be.

HENRY: (Looks at MARJORIE curiously) How do you know?

MARJORIE: I'm not sure, but I am rather sure of it, somehow. (Abruptly changes subject) So, do you like your job?

HENRY: Oh! Yes. Writing is my passion. It's a rare man that can do what he loves most and be paid for it.

MARJORIE: I wonder what my job was…is…and whether I liked it or not.

HENRY: (Examines MARJORIE's hand gently.) With fingers like these, I know you were not…are not?...a shorthand typist or anything of that nature. You don't have calluses in the right places.

MARJORIE: How would you know what calluses I should have if I were a typist?

HENRY: I've seen the hand of many, many a one.

MARJORIE: (Eyes HENRY suspiciously.) If you say so. (Examines her own hands. HENRY fiddles with the objects of the table, lining up the salt & pepper shakers, sugar bowl, and other things in a symmetrical pattern around the flower in vase.)

(The song has by now changed to Love Dream No. 3.)

HENRY: (Awkwardly) I rather like this tune.

MARJORIE: It's nice. (They sit in silence. MARJORIE plays with her hat nervously. However, anyone can see they have absolutely fallen for each other..)

HENRY: (Breaking the silence) Marjorie?

MARJORIE: Yes, Henry?

HENRY: Permit me to say that, despite your relative confusion you are the most enchanting woman I've ever met. I've enjoyed today more than any day in my life.

MARJORIE: I would agree. Cavorting all over London like an eager tourist, stepping in every shop we passed--including Harrods!--seeing every attraction we could visit--even riding the double-decker!--today has been nicer than any I can remember. Though, of course, that is not saying a lot, coming from me.

HENRY: (Says nothing, just chuckles Suddenly, lights black out. Cut music. Women scream. Gunshots resound across the stage. HENRY yells.)

MARJORIE: Henry!

HENRY: Marjorie!

MARJORIE: Let me go, you filthy--

(One last gunshot is heard.)

HENRY: Ow! Marjorie! Where are you?

(Lights suddenly turn on again. The place is foggy with smoke. HENRY is wounded in the shoulder, which he clutches with pain. MARJORIE is gone.)

HENRY: (Looks around) Marjorie! (Stands up, grabs their belongings, leaves a few notes to pay for their dinner, and races offstage.)

Dim lights. Music: Hungarian Dance No. 1--J. Brahms

Raise lights, dim music

Scene: 6

Set: A rather dank, dim office. A few chairs are scattered around the room. There is one door leading offstage, another onto a balcony. One large desk with the usual office utensils on top of it is situated rather close to it. A table with a wireless is on the opposite side of the room, along with another simple table. A Nazi flag is placed austerely on one side of the desk. A table with a long cloth, with a picture of Hitler placed in honor on top, is near the door. A photograph of Churchill is pinned on the wall opposite the desk, with a few darts in it. The desk is set vertically to the audience on the reverse side of the stage as the door. The peak of a 'roof' is above, which slants to the back of the stage. Behind the set is purportedly a street, but it is not visible to the audience.

MARJORIE: (Is tied to a chair placed in center stage. FRANZ stands impatiently beside her. HENCHMAN 1, HENCHMAN 2, and HENCHMAN 3 are standing close at hand, also.)

FRANZ: (About age 52, Icy blue eyes, hair that is blonde--once curly but now more inclined to be thatch-like--Bald spot in the process of appearing. He's short and somewhat fat. He wears glasses, and he gives the general air of needing someone to keep him looking a bit neater. However, he also looks powerful, in a careless indifferent way. He does not take much pride in how he looks or his clothes. Says with an absolutely evil smile on his face.) Well, schatzie, I hope I am not too cruel in disturbing your little tête-à-tête with that foolish English John.

MARJORIE: (Is struggling) Let me go!

FRANZ: I can not yet, Frauline. (Languidly takes a dart from the few he holds in his hands, and throws it at the picture of Churchill. It hits it.) I am sorry. But now that I can speak to you in person, my darling, let us be frank. Where are the plans for the EDM?

MARJORIE: What plans? I have no plans.

FRANZ: Come now, my dear Ana. The English John is not here; there is no need to be suspicious.

MARJORIE: But I'm not suspicious of him; I'm suspicious of you! And why do you refer to him as 'the English John'? Aren't I English, like him?

FRANZ: (Laughs uproariously, throws another dart at the picture.) Of course not, Ana. Have you lost your mind? You are the great Ana Kostalvo! The most cunning and stealthy of all the German spies the world has ever known! (Turns full attention to MARJORIE.) Now tell me, where are the plans for the EDM--you were due to give them me over 24 hours ago.

MARJORIE: What plans?

FRANZ: (Very exaggeratedly bends down and looks MARJORIE straight in the eye.) The plans…that you stole…from the Minister of Defense's office…over two days ago…for the British people's new decoding machine…that you were supposed to give me yesterday…me who is in charge of the German Espionage Division…that if you do not give me…we are both to be killed.

MARJORIE: I don't believe this. I'm dreaming. My name is Marjorie Bartholomew.

FRANZ: I do not believe that you do not believe this. (Is getting angry) Tell me now, Kostalvo, where are the plans? (Fiercely throws another dart at Churchill, but misses.)

MARJORIE: (Thinks for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly gets an idea. Motions for FRANZ to approach her. Whispers) My love, would that be someone looking at us through a hole in the wall? It could be the Gestapo making sure that—

FRANZ: (Looks where she gestures) No, it is a spider, a mere arachnid. I shall smash it. (Does so.) There. It is dead. No hole in the wall.

MARJORIE: One never can tell. Now as to the plans I…uh…took from the Defense Minister's office.

FRANZ: Yes! Yes! Where are they?

MARJORIE: Those are in a secret compartment at the top of my closet door, folded into a minute cylinder. (It is evident that she is lying.)

FRANZ: (Puts down remaining darts on desk.)And why didn't you bring them to me yesterday? (Believing her.)

MARJORIE: Well, obviously, that English John, as you call him, well, he was following me all down Piccadilly, and I, of course, couldn't get him off my trail. So I ended up merely going to Parkinson's then going home, but he insisted on making my acquaintance and he tried to stay the night with me. That is why I was so cold on the phone last night.

FRANZ: And this morning…?

MARJORIE: The postman was at the door the first time, and the second time I fell asleep holding the phone.

FRANZ: Asleep?

MARJORIE: Um. Yes.

FRANZ: Whatever you say, my dear Frauline. Now please be to wait while we go fetch the plans from…where you did say…the top of your closet door, in a secret compartment?

MARJORIE: Yes. I can go get them, if you want…(Makes a motion to get up.)

FRANZ: No. You stay. Peter!

HENCHMAN 1: Yes sir?

FRANZ: Go get them. Here are the keys to the flat. (Tosses ring of keys from MARJORIE's purse to HENCHMAN 1, who catches them.)

HENCHMAN 1: Yes sir. (Leaves.)

FRANZ: (Settles himself down at desk chair.) I apologize for keeping you tied, my schatzie, but you know how I do not want to lose you. (Pauses a moment. Motions for HENCHMAN 3 to turn on the wireless. HENCHMAN 3 does so. La donna e mobile from Rigoletto by G. Verdi turns on. HENCHMEN 2 and 3 and FRANZ all seem to settle down a bit.)

SECRETARY: (Comes in) Sir?

FRANZ: (Sits up) Yes?

SECRETARY: There seems to be a problem.

FRANZ: Is it important?

SECRETARY: Frightfully. Bunnick seems to be in custody.

FRANZ: Not our Bunnick? Hans?

SECRETARY: Yes sir. The one and only Hans Bunnick I know of.

FRANZ: (Jumps out of chair) Gott drummel. I'm coming. What an imbecile he is.

(SECRETARY AND FRANZ leave.)

HENCHMAN 2 and 3: (Look conspiringly at each other.)

HENCHMAN 2: I'm hungry.

HENCHMAN 3: Me too.

HENCHMAN 2: I'll go get something for us to eat. You can watch the wench well enough on your own, can you not?

HENCHMAN 3: Of course. I want a sandwich.

HENCHMAN 2: Fine. I'll be back. (Leaves.)

HENCHMAN 3: (Gets out a book.)

(Lights dim to indicate passing of time. Music raise: Sonata for Piano No. 8 in C minor opus 12--Pathetique, Adagio Cantabile. Dim music. Lights up.)

HENCHMAN 2: (Is snoring peacefully. Book is on the floor.)

MARJORIE: (Has been undoing her ropes very carefully while HENCHMAN 2 is sleeping. Now she finally has them all off, and she stands, stretching.)

FRANZ: (From offstage)…I can not believe it was actually him! I never have spoken with him since he gave me this position under him…what an honor…it such is an honor…

MARJORIE: (Quickly ducks under drooping cloth of the covered table, upsetting the picture of Hitler and making it fall down.)

FRANZ: (Enters with SECRETARY.)

HENCHMAN 2: (Wakes up, shoves book in pocket.)

FRANZ: Now…(Notices absence of MARJORIE. Turns angrily to HENCHMAN 2.) Where is she?

HENCHMAN 2: Where is who, sir?

FRANZ: The woman, you ignominious man! Where is she?

HENCHMAN 2: Uh…

FRANZ: You disheveled mongrel! You pickled codfish!

MARJORIE: (Creeps from under table towards the door.)

FRANZ: You self-destructing detonator! You undercooked weinerschnitzel! You uninformative, unvigilant, unctuous umbrella-stand! You can’t stay awake long enough to say your alphabet! You ugly pink baboon! Your mother was a French dancer with a limp and your father was a Hungarian llama breeder! Never in all my life have I—

HENCHMAN 3: (Comes in with bag of take out, encounters MARJORIE as she’s sneaking out the door.) Huh? (Whacks her on the head with bag. MARJORIE falls down, unconscious.)

FRANZ: (Starts laughing) You gluttonous pig. Your lunch has knocked my lady-friend to the floor.

HENCHMAN 2 and 3: (Start laughing.)

(Dim lights. Music raise: Siese Wonne, diese Sligkeit. Music dim. Lights raise.)

Scene 7

Set: Same as previous scene. FRANZ, SECRETARY, and HENCHMEN 1, 2, and 3 are all in the room. MARJORIE is again tied to the chair. SECRETARY has a notepad and pencil.

FRANZ: (Circles MARJORIE as she sits. All eyes are on him.) Thought you could sneak away from us, Frauline Kostalvo? You thought you could escape?

MARJORIE: No! I swear to you, all I desired a glass of water, but he (Gestures to HENCHMAN 2) fell asleep! Did you expect me to disturb him just to--

FRANZ: (Interrupts her.) You need not lie, Frauline Kostalvo. I see now how it is between you and I. (Suddenly swoops down on her and kisses her tenderly on the lips. Whispers to her) Does this make it better? I realize I've been neglecting you so. You may stop your antics now.

MARJORIE: (Is in utter shock.) The nerve…the nerve of you!

FRANZ: (Is disconsolate. Still whispers) What is the matter, Ana? Last time we met, last week, you said you should love me 'until the last gunshot is fired and forever after.'

MARJORIE: I? I said so? Then I am sorry, but it must have been lies.

FRANZ: (Sits down sadly on desk, facing her.) Why does she deny me after six years of working together, of near-marriage? I ask you, Miss Gucck, (To SECRETARY) weren't we just simply happy people?

SECRETARY: I would say very definitely so, sir.

FRANZ: Now, Ana, something has gone amiss with you. I do not know why you act this way, but it seems that you must be out of your mind. You can not be yourself, for yourself is in love with me and knows she is Ana Kostalvo, a woman engaged to me.

MARJORIE: (Still is in horror) I don't believe it.

FRANZ: Well, in that case, I should say the same.

MARJORIE: There is no possible way you've made a mistake?

FRANZ: (Stands. Laughs.) Mistake? Bah. Germans do not make mistakes.

(Suddenly, gunshots are heard outside, followed by several more and a heavy knocking on the door.)

POLICEMAN 1: Open up. It's the police. Open up, I say!

(HENCHMEN 1, 2, 3 all draw guns. SECRETARY cowers in a corner. FRANZ jumps to cover MARJORIE's mouth to prevent her from screaming.)

POLICEMAN 1: All right men, break the door down.

(The door falls in. About six policemen and HENRY, burst into the room.)

HENRY: Throw down your arms.

(HENCHMEN 1, 2, 3, throw down guns.)

HENRY: By the order of his majesty, King George of Britain, you all are under arrest. (Begins to put manacles on each of the HENCHMEN's hands.)

MARJORIE: Henry! (Is elated.)

HENRY: Just a moment, Ana. (Is preoccupied with manacling the Germans. He seems reluctant to face MARJORIE.)

MARJORIE: Ana?

HENRY: I'll explain later. I'm sorry. (Advances towards MARJORIE and FRANZ.)

FRANZ: (Suddenly draws his own gun as HENRY comes to put manacles on him.) Stay back! (Puts gun to MARJORIE's head) Stay back or I shoot the girl!

HENRY: (Stops.)

MARJORIE: Don't mind me, Henry, get him!

HENRY: (Cannot move. Watches in horror as FRANZ leaps out onto the balcony. HENRY races out after him. POLICEMAN 4 begins to unbind MARJORIE. FRANZ, trapped on the balcony with HENRY, clambers onto the roof. However, he slips, and falls backwards off the roof to his death. HENRY looks over the balcony at him.) He seems to be dead. (To POLICEMAN 2) Call an ambulance, if you would, Parkinson.

POLICEMAN 2: Yes sir. (Goes to the telephone and proceeds to do so.)

MARJORIE: (Now free, runs and embraces HENRY.) Oh Henry!

HENRY: (Holds MARJORIE tightly) Oh Ana! Beautiful Ana!

Dim lights. Raise music: Clair de Lune--Debussy
Raise lights, dim music.

Scene 8

Set: A dimly lit street corner. The light of dawn is just beginning to show behind the background of houses. A lonely streetlamp feels the end of its shift coming, and seems to put out less light than if it were the pitch of night.

MARJORIE: (Walks with HENRY down the street with relative lack of unease.) Let me be sure I heard right. So, as you say, I really am the notorious spy woman Ana Kostalvo?

HENRY: Yes.

ANA: And you made me purposefully believe myself to be of a different name by exchanging my clothes when you found me and took me to the hospital?

HENRY: One small correction--it was neither the cab's nor your fault--I was the one who pushed you beneath the oncoming wheels.

ANA: (Pauses to reflect) Oh. I remember you said that. But why did you do it in the first place?

HENRY: I'm a loyal Briton.

ANA: But how would you know who I was? (Thinks a moment.) I've got it. You work for the English Government yourself. You were trailing me.

HENRY: (Pointedly, intimating that although she is right, he isn't supposed to have told her) I never said anything.

ANA: (Catching the hint) Of course not. So where are the actual plans I was supposed to be capturing? And what were they actually for?

HENRY: Well, I'll take the second question first. Basically, the plans were for a specific machine we have been developing that was meant to decode your German Enigma machine. The point of attaining our plans was so that you Germans could change the actual Enigma so that the Decoder would not work.

ANA: I see. By the way, is your name really Henry Martin?

HENRY: Somewhat. In reality, my name is Henry Lackey. Christian name the same.

ANA: Lackey suits you far better. In any case, could you tell me a bit about myself? How did I come to be a German spy? I don't believe I have an accent or anything of that kind.

HENRY: No indeed. You were born in Germany, but your mother died in childbirth. Your father had been killed in an accident not long before. So, being an orphan, you were sent to your great aunt's household in Sussex. You were raised in a very proper British fashion thenceforth, but nevertheless remained steadfastly and heartily German-oriented. Eventually, you moved back to Germany and learned the language, but never picked up enough of the accent to override your natural English one. This made you in an ideal position for spy work, and you were quickly scooped up into the Nazi Regime.

ANA: If I was a Nazi, then, how come I am not locked up with my fellows and, instead, free to roam the streets with you?

HENRY: Accounting for your bit of amnesia and my influence from the start of your memory, I supposed it would be generous of me to arrange a fresh start in life--if you so choose it.

ANA: Could I join the British Secret Service?

HENRY: You'll need to obtain citizenship first.

ANA: But of course! I shall! I see now how horrible I was tied up before, how splendid this country actually is, how horrible the whole Nazi regime truly is. In addition, I am very glad to be rid of that…revolting man-friend of mine. (Shudders) However, you didn't have to make any special arrangements for me. Why did you do so?

HENRY: Can you really ask? (Looks longingly into her eyes. Takes MARJORIE's hand.) Ana, when you first began your work in this country attempting to get the plans for the EDM, I was assigned to follow you and watch your every movement because I was the best in my field. When I began to do my duty, however, I began to feel rather torn inside. I fell head over heels in love with you, even when I saw you to be as horrible and miserable a creature as ever existed. It took every ounce of strength I had within me to even try to kill you. I was so glad, for the first time in my life, to see that I had failed to do my work completely.

ANA: Oh, Henry! No one's ever spoken such words to me! I could just die now, and die happy!

HENRY: (Elated) You return my affections, then!

ANA: Oh, yes, yes, a thousand times yes! (HENRY and MARJORIE kiss) By the way, where are the plans now?

HENRY: Right here. (Digs in coat pocket, produces small rolled cylinder.) See?

ANA: (Silkily.) I see. (Suddenly grabs at shoe, draws a long stiletto knife and puts knife to HENRY's neck. He cries out loudly, then stares at ANA with horror.) You should have known not to trust Ana Kostalvo. Don't you see, I never did have amnesia. I woke up with a splitting headache, and heard you and the doctor talking about the possibility that I would lose my memory. You thought I didn't know you were on my trail, but no, I was more clever than that. When I knew I was under your power, I decided to reverse the situation. Little did I know how easy that came to be. (ANA laughs. HENRY looks at her with pained eyes.) The best thing about this was I was able to rid myself of Franz too. Poor man. He thought a woman a full twenty years younger than him could actually bring herself to love him. But perhaps younger men are no wiser. You thought I loved you, too. (HENRY gives a stifled cry, which is interrupted by ANA thrusting her blade into his jugular vein. HENRY falls to the ground, dead.) But Ana Kostalvo shall be subjective to no man. No, never. I've not started out badly, have I? (Calmly replaces knife in the sole of her shoe.)The head of the Enigma Decoder Machine purloining expedition, and England's greatest secret agent, both in one sweep. I shall work my way up in the world until I am the very bread and butter of the most rich and influential man. Then I shall dispose just as easily of him too. Perhaps I shall defeat even the great Nazi dictator himself! (Laughs insanely) Heil Hitler! (Continues to laugh. ANA yanks the rolled-up plans from the limp fingers of HENRY, pocketing them.)

WOMAN 1: (Offstage) Come look, Constable, I heard the cry this way…

ANA: (Suddenly stops laughing. Looks offstage for a moment, runs away from the voice, goes offstage on opposite side. The screeching of brakes and ANA's scream is heard.)

AUTO DRIVER: Madam! Madam! Are you all right? I'm sorry, it was dark, I didn't see you . . . Oh, God . . .

AUTO DRIVER'S WIFE: Frank! You've killed her!

Dim lights. Raise music: Radetzky March--J. Strauss

End