31 Plays in 31 Days, #29 - "Fifty or Fifty-One"

[breakinglight11]

Rushing to finish.

Day #29 - "Fifty or Fifty-One"
From Ripper
By Phoebe Roberts

VICTORIA HAWKING, lady's champion of London
ELIZABETH FROST, her rival
~~~

(MRS. HAWKING consults with MRS. FROST.)

MRS. FROST: And what is your endgame in all this?

MRS. HAWKING: I should think that was obvious.

MRS. FROST: But how do you mean to dispose of him? Sting him with the police— or other authorities —the way you so often do.

MRS. HAWKING: The police are useless. They can’t even get close to him.

MRS. FROST: Then what? Call the men in white coats again?

MRS. HAWKING: Think harder.

MRS. FROST: Oh. You intend the most final solution.

MRS. HAWKING: You’ve seen this man’s work. He’s mad. Truly mad. There’s no stopping a beast like that any other way.

MRS. FROST: Hm. I suppose that’s true.

MRS. HAWKING: You’ve certainly dealt with your share of problems that way.

MRS. FROST: Indeed I did. You’ll hear no argument from me. In fact, I have some names I’d look up when I had such a problem.

MRS. HAWKING: That isn’t my plan.

MRS. FROST: Of course not. You mean to do it yourself.

MRS. HAWKING: He’s dangerous. That will finish it.

MRS. FROST: And no one else is up to the task, eh? Not even one of your trusted lieutenants.

MRS. HAWKING: I will leave nothing to chance.

MRS. FROST: Because you’re the best there is. Ugh. I can’t believe you still do that sort of thing yourself. How old are you now? Let’s see, I’ve got five years on you, so you must be… forty-eight now. And you’re still racing along rooftops and hurling yourself at grown men? My God, my bones ache just thinking about it.

MRS. HAWKING: I manage.

MRS. FROST: But for how much longer? Do you really think you can keep this up when you’re fifty years old? Could any woman?

MRS. HAWKING: Well. You weren’t finished until you were, what… fifty-one? So I ought to have at least until then.