Recaptured Rhymes :: :: University of Virginia Library

Scene—A Railway Platform. Policemen assembled. To them an Inspector: they exchange greetings. He sings, accompanying himself softly on the Rattle.
Inspector.

Heed not, comrades, though they taunt us
With the Frenchman's subtler art;
'Tis a prouder boast to vaunt us
In the wisdom of the heart.

Be it ours—we much prefer it—
To survey men's works and ways
In a nobler, kindlier spirit,
With a franker, freer gaze.

Higher heights of moral stature
Presuppose a wider glance;
Let us trust in human nature,
“Honi soit qui mal y pense.”

Doubt, we know, is from the devil,
Let us thrust its lures aside;
Constables who think no evil
Ever have been England's pride.

All
(enthusiastically).

Ay! away with base suspicion,
And with thoughts that wrong mankind!
Ill it were in our position
To indulge a cynic mind.

(A train enters the station. They approach it.)
Inspector.

See from yonder railway carriage
Who is this emerging, pray,

In a plight 'twould scarce disparage
To describe as disarray?

Why! his face and hands are gory,
And exhausted he appears!
Stranger, pour your moving story
In our sympathetic ears.

(He pours it.)
All.

Ah, most startling! Ah, most thrilling!
Of romance 'tis strangely full!
Aged merchant—missing villain—
Countryman—and cock-and-bull!

Inspector
(after a pause).

Yet I fain would ask you, stranger,
How—but, no, this will not do;
Mutual trust it might endanger—
Who am I to question you?

All
(approvingly).

Who, indeed? Avaunt, suspicion!
Down, ye thoughts that wrong mankind!
Ill befits it our position
To indulge a cynic mind.

(Another pause, during which they eye the stranger closely.)
Inspector
(after a struggle with himself).

Pardon, Sir, the strong desire I
Vainly labour to restrain;
But th' old Adam of inquiry
Rises in my breast again.

Tell me (thus a weakness lingers!)
How and when you tore your coat;
And are those not marks of fingers
That I see upon your throat?

Where's your collar? where your necktie?
Where—but why the question press?
If your mens be conscia recti
What's a collar more or less?

All.

What, indeed? Away, suspicion!
Get thee, Satan's child, behind!
Let us each in his position
Shun that curse—a cynic mind.

(Yet another pause. They still continue eyeing the stranger.)
Inspector
(diffidently).

I despise the art of angling
For disclosures—mean pursuit!
But . . . . I notice something dangling
(Not a bootlace) from your boot.

Ha! a watch-chain! I declare, it
Seems a funny place to—eh?
What! “The way you always wear it?”
Say no more! forgive me, pray!

True-born Britons never heed 'em,
Casual trifles such as these;
Heirs to centuries of freedom
Wear their watch-chains how they please.

All
(proudly).

True! Away then, vile suspicion!
Spurn we thoughts that wrong mankind!
Base it were in our position
To indulge a cynic mind.

Inspector.

Now farewell! the word may grieve us
Yet at last we must dismiss
Dearest friends; but ere you leave us
Gentle stranger, tell me this:

Since we may your kind assistance
Need to trace this dreadful crime—
Are you going any distance?
Or for any length of time?

“Just a week of foreign travel?”
Thanks! Then we may count on you
After that to help unravel
This dark mystery! Adieu!

(Stranger embraces the police, beginning with the Inspector; then enters a Continental train. They watch it moving from the station until it is lost to view.)
Inspector and Chorus.

Speed thee, speed thee, o'er the billow!
I will not believe thee vile.
We will not believe thee vile.
Smooth, O smooth is strewn the pillow
Under heads that know no guile.

Doubt, I feel, is from the devil;
Doubt, We feel, is from the devil;
I will thrust its lures aside.
Let us thrust its lures aside.
Constables that think no evil
Ever have been England's pride.