Transcript of Shall We Join The Ladies?
THE HOST read by Phil Benson. MR. Preen read by Victor Horvath. Sir Joseph read by Andy Minter. Mrs. Bland read by Ruth Golding. Captain Jennings read by Algie Pag. Mr. Vale read by Alan Wayman. Mrs. Preen read by Yule Nidamaya. Mr. Gurley read by Piotr Natter. Miss Isit read by Lucy Perry. Lady Jane read by Carol Box. Lady Wraithey read by Ashley Jane. Miss Vale read by Diana Mylinger. Mrs. Castro read by Charlotte Duckett. The Maid read by Rapunzelina. Smith is a little old bachelor and sits there beaming on his guests like an elderly Cupid. So they think him, but they are to be undeceived. Though many of them have not met until this week, they have at present that genial regard for each other, which steals so becomingly over really nice people who have eaten too much. Dolphin, the butler, is passing round the fruit. The only other attendant is a maid in the background, as for an emergency, and she is as interested in the conversation as he is indifferent to it. If one of the guests were to destroy himself, Dolphin would merely sign to her to remove the debris while he continued to serve the fruit. In the midst of hilarity over some quip that were just too late to catch, the youthful Lady Jane counts the company and is appalled. We are thirteen, Lady Wraithey. Many fingers count. Fourteen. Twelve. We are thirteen. Oh dear! How careless of me! Is there anything I can do? Sir Joseph of the city. Leave this to me. All keep your seats. Mrs Preen, perhaps rather thankfully. I am afraid Lady Jane has risen. Lady Jane subsides. Joseph, you have risen yourself. Sir Joseph subsides. Mrs Castro, a mysterious widow from Buenos Aires. Were there thirteen all those other nights? We always had a guest or two from outside, you remember? Miss Isit, whose name obviously needs to be queried. All we have got to do is to make our number fourteen. But how, Miss Isit? Why, Dolphin, of course. It's too clever of you, Miss Isit. Mr Smith, Dolphin may sit down with us, may he? Please, dear Mr Smith. Just for a moment, it breaks the spell. We won't eat you, Dolphin. But he has crunched some similar ones. Let me explain to him. You see, Dolphin, there's a superstition that if thirteen people sit down at table, something staggering will happen to one of them before the night is out. That is it, isn't it? Mrs Blend, darkly, namely death. Host, brightly. Yes, namely death. But not before the night is out, you dear, before the year is out. I thought it was before the night is out. Dolphin is reluctant. Sit here, Dolphin. No, I want him. It was my idea, and I insist on having him. Mrs Castro, moving farther to the left. Yes, here between us. Dolphin obliges. Mrs Preen, with childish abandon. Saved. As we are saved