Dusk
by H.H. Munro (SAKI)
Norman Gortsby sat on a bench in the Park, with his back to a strip of bush-planted sward, fenced by the park railings, and the Row fronting him across a wide stretch of carriage drive. Hyde Park Corner, with its rattle and hoot of traffic, lay immediately to his right. It was some thirty minutes past six on an early March evening, and dusk had fallen heavily over the scene, dusk mitigated by some faint moonlight and many street lamps. There was a wide emptiness over road and sidewalk, and yet there were many unconsidered figures moving silently through the half-light, or dotted unobtrusively on bench and chair, scarcely to be distinguished from the shadowed gloom in which they sat.
The scene pleased Gortsby and harmonised with his present mood. Dusk, to his mind, was the hour of the defeated. Men and women, who had fought and lost, who hid their fallen fortunes and dead hopes as far as possible from the scrutiny of the curious, came forth in this hour of gloaming, when their shabby clothes and bowed shoulders and unhappy eyes might pass unnoticed, or, at any rate, unrecognised.
A king that is conquered must see strange looks, So bitter a thing is the heart of man.
The wanderers in the dusk did not choose to have strange looks fasten on them, therefore they came out in this bat-fashion, taking their pleasure sadly in a pleasure-ground that had emptied of its rightful occupants. Beyond the sheltering screen of bushes and palings came a realm of brilliant lights and noisy, rushing traffic. A blazing, many-tiered stretch of windows shone through the dusk and almost dispersed it, marking the haunts of those other people, who held their own in life's struggle, or at any rate had not had to admit failure. So Gortsby's imagination pictured things as he sat on his bench in the almost deserted walk. He was in the mood to count himself among the defeated. Money troubles did not press on him; had he so wished he could have strolled into the thoroughfares of light and noise, and taken his place among the jostling ranks of those who enjoyed prosperity or struggled for it. He had failed in a more subtle ambition, and for the moment he was heartsore and disillusionised, and not disinclined to take a certain cynical pleasure in observing and labelling his fellow wanderers as they went their ways in the dark stretches between the lamp-lights.
On the bench by his side sat an elderly gentleman with a drooping air of defiance that was probably the remaining vestige of self-respect in an individual who had ceased to defy successfully anybody or anything. His clothes could scarcely be called shabby, at least they passed muster in the half-light, but one's imagination could not have pictured the wearer embarking on the purchase of a half-crown box of chocolates or laying out ninepence on a carnation buttonhole. He belonged unmistakably to that forlorn orchestra to whose piping no one dances; he was one of the world's lamenters who induce no responsive weeping. As he rose to go Gortsby imagined him returning to a home circle where he was snubbed and of no account, or to some bleak lodging where his ability to pay a weekly bill was the beginning and end of the interest he inspired. His retreating figure vanished slowly into the shadows, and his place on the bench was taken almost immediately by a young man, fairly well dressed but scarcely more cheerful of mien than his predecessor. As if to emphasise the fact that the world went badly with him the new-corner unburdened himself of an angry and very audible expletive as he flung himself into the seat.
"You don't seem in a very good temper," said Gortsby, judging that he was expected to take due notice of the demonstration.
The young man turned to him with a look of disarming frankness which put him instantly on his guard.
"You wouldn't be in a good temper if you were in the fix I'm in," he said; "I've done the silliest thing I've ever done in my life."
"Yes?" said Gortsby dispassionately.
"Came up this afternoon, meaning to stay at the Patagonian Hotel in Berkshire Square," continued the young man; "when I got there I found it had been pulled down some weeks ago and a cinema theatre run up on the site. The taxi driver recommended me to another hotel some way off and I went there. I just sent a letter to my people, giving them the address, and then I went out to buy some soap - I'd forgotten to pack any and I hate using hotel soap. Then I strolled about a bit, had a drink at a bar and looked at the shops, and when I came to turn my steps back to the hotel I suddenly realised that I didn't remember its name or even what street it was in. There's a nice predicament for a fellow who hasn't any friends or connections in London! Of course I can wire to my people for the address, but they won't have got my letter till to-morrow; meantime I'm without any money, came out with about a shilling on me, which went in buying the soap and getting the drink, and here I am, wandering about with twopence in my pocket and nowhere to go for the night."
There was an eloquent pause after the story had been told. "I suppose you think I've spun you rather an impossible yarn," said the young man presently,with a suggestion of resentment in his voice.
"Not at all impossible," said Gortsby judicially; "I remember doing exactly the same thing once in a foreign capital, and on that occasion there were two of us, which made it more remarkable. Luckily we remembered that the hotel was on a sort of canal, and when we struck the canal we were able to find our way back to the hotel."
The youth brightened at the reminiscence. "In a foreign city I wouldn't mind so much," he said; "one could go to one's Consul and get the requisite help from him. Here in one's own land one is far more derelict if one gets into a fix. Unless I can find some decent chap to swallow my story and lend me some money I seem likely to spend the night on the Embankment. I'm glad, anyhow, that you don't think the story outrageously improbable."
He threw a good deal of warmth into the last remark, as though perhaps to indicate his hope that Gortsby did not fall far short of the requisite decency.
"Of course," said Gortsby slowly, "the weak point of your story is that you can't produce the soap."
The young man sat forward hurriedly, felt rapidly in the pockets of his overcoat, and then jumped to his feet.
"I must have lost it," he muttered angrily.
"To lose an hotel and a cake of soap on one afternoon suggests wilful carelessness," said Gortsby, but the young man scarcely waited to hear the end of the remark. He flitted away down the path, his head held high, with an air of somewhat jaded jauntiness.
"It was a pity," mused Gortsby; "the going out to get one's own soap was the one convincing touch in the whole story, and yet it was just that little detail that brought him to grief. If he had had the brilliant forethought to provide himself with a cake of soap, wrapped and sealed with all the solicitude of the chemist's counter, he would have been a genius in his particular line. In his particular line genius certainly consists of an infinite capacity for taking precautions."
With that reflection Gortsby rose to go; as he did so an exclamation of concern escaped him. Lying on the ground by the side of the bench was a small oval packet, wrapped and sealed with the solicitude of a chemist's counter. It could be nothing else but a cake of soap, and it had evidently fallen out of the youth's overcoat pocket when he flung himself down on the seat. In another moment Gortsby was scudding along the dusk- shrouded path in anxious quest for a youthful figure in a light overcoat. He had nearly given up the search when he caught sight of the object of his pursuit standing irresolutely on the border of the carriage drive, evidently uncertain whether to strike across the Park or make for the bustling pavements of Knightsbridge. He turned round sharply with an air of defensive hostility when he found Gortsby hailing him.
"The important witness to the genuineness of your story has turned up," said Gortsby, holding out the cake of soap; "it must have slid out of your overcoat pocket when you sat down on the seat. I saw it on the ground after you left. You must excuse my disbelief, but appearances were really rather against you, and now, as I appealed to the testimony of the soap I think I ought to abide by its verdict. If the loan of a sovereign is any good to you - "
The young man hastily removed all doubt on the subject by pocketing the coin.
"Here is my card with my address," continued Gortsby; "any day this week will do for returning the money, and here is the soap - don't lose it again it's been a good friend to you."
"Lucky thing your finding it," said the youth, and then, with a catch in his voice, he blurted out a word or two of thanks and fled headlong in the direction of Knightsbridge.
"Poor boy, he as nearly as possible broke down," said Gortsby to himself. "I don't wonder either; the relief from his quandary must have been acute. It's a lesson to me not to be too clever in judging by circumstances."
As Gortsby retraced his steps past the seat where the little drama had taken place he saw an elderly gentleman poking and peering beneath it and on all sides of it, and recognised his earlier fellow occupant.
"Have you lost anything, sir?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, a cake of soap."
Frequently Asked Questions
What is "Dusk" by Saki about?
"Dusk" follows Norman Gortsby, a man sitting on a park bench in London's Hyde Park at twilight. He muses that dusk is the hour of the defeated — a time when life's failures emerge from the shadows to avoid scrutiny. A young man sits beside him and tells an elaborate story about losing his hotel and having no money, hoping Gortsby will lend him cash. Gortsby sees through the con because the young man cannot produce the bar of soap he claims to have bought. After the young man leaves, Gortsby finds a cake of soap on the ground, assumes it fell from the young man's pocket, chases him down, and gives him both the soap and a sovereign. Returning to the bench, Gortsby sees the elderly man who had been sitting there before — searching the ground for a lost cake of soap.
What is the theme of "Dusk" by Saki?
The central theme is the danger of judging by appearances. Gortsby prides himself on reading people and assumes he can spot a con artist at dusk — yet he is the one who ends up deceived. A closely related theme is deception and the limits of human perception: the young man's story is a lie, but a stray piece of evidence (the soap) makes it seem true. also explores self-deception, since Gortsby's belief in his own cleverness is precisely what makes him vulnerable. The story suggests that confidence in one's ability to see through others is itself a form of blindness.
What is the irony in "Dusk" by Saki?
The story is built on situational irony. Gortsby initially makes the correct judgment — the young man is indeed a con artist — but then reverses his decision based on misleading evidence. The soap he finds on the ground actually belongs to the elderly gentleman who had been sitting on the bench before the young man arrived. The deeper irony is that Gortsby's moment of self-criticism ("It's a lesson to me not to be too clever") is itself mistaken: his cleverness was right all along, and his sentimentality is what costs him a sovereign. There is also dramatic irony in the final line — "Yes, sir, a cake of soap" — which reveals the truth to the reader at the exact moment Gortsby walks away, oblivious.
What is the significance of the title "Dusk"?
The title works on both a literal and symbolic level. Literally, the story takes place at dusk in Hyde Park, when the fading light makes it difficult to see clearly. Symbolically, dusk represents the obscurity of human motives — the inability to perceive people's true intentions. Gortsby believes dusk is the hour when "the defeated" emerge, but the half-light also provides cover for predators like the young con artist. The dim conditions mirror Gortsby's own limited perception: he thinks he sees the truth, but he is operating in a moral twilight where nothing is as it appears.
Who is Norman Gortsby in "Dusk"?
Norman Gortsby is the protagonist and a self-styled observer of human nature. He sits on a park bench at dusk, watching the "defeated" people who emerge in the half-light, and takes a "cynical pleasure in observing and labelling his fellow wanderers." He is not poor himself — money troubles do not press on him — but he has "failed in a more subtle ambition" and is feeling bitter. His defining trait is intellectual vanity: he is certain he can read people accurately, which makes his eventual deception all the more pointed. uses Gortsby to satirize those who believe they are too clever to be fooled.
What is the twist ending in "Dusk"?
The twist comes in the story's final line. After Gortsby chases down the young man, returns the soap, and lends him a sovereign, he walks back past the bench feeling charitable and self-corrected. There he sees the elderly gentleman who had sat beside him earlier, now "poking and peering beneath it and on all sides of it." When Gortsby asks if he has lost something, the old man replies: "Yes, sir, a cake of soap." In an instant, the reader realizes the soap never belonged to the young con artist at all. Gortsby's initial skepticism was correct, and his act of generosity was based on a false premise. The young man has gotten away with the money.
What role does the soap play in "Dusk"?
The cake of soap serves as the pivotal piece of evidence around which the entire plot turns. Gortsby correctly identifies it as the weak point in the young man's story: if the young man really did go out to buy soap, he should be able to produce it. When the young man cannot, Gortsby dismisses him. But when a packet of soap appears on the ground after the young man leaves, Gortsby treats it as proof that the story was true. The soap is a classic example of circumstantial evidence leading to a false conclusion. It actually belongs to the elderly gentleman, but Gortsby never considers that possibility because the coincidence fits his desire to believe he was wrong.
How does "Dusk" compare to other Saki stories?
"Dusk" shares 's hallmark qualities: a compact plot, dry wit, and a devastating twist ending. It belongs to the same tradition as The Open Window, where a clever deceiver manipulates someone who thinks they understand the situation. Like The Interlopers, the story reverses expectations in its final moments, though "Dusk" does so through social comedy rather than violence. It also recalls The Storyteller in its interest in the power of narrative to manipulate an audience. Among Saki's works, "Dusk" stands out for its urban setting and its focus on a single psychological reversal.
What is the setting of "Dusk" and why is it important?
The story is set on a bench in Hyde Park, London, at approximately half past six on an early March evening. The specific time and place are essential to the story's meaning. Dusk has "fallen heavily over the scene," creating a half-light where figures move "silently" and can "scarcely be distinguished from the shadowed gloom." This atmospheric obscurity allows the con artist to operate and prevents Gortsby from seeing the situation clearly. Beyond the park, the "blazing, many-tiered stretch of windows" represents the world of the successful, while the darkened park belongs to those who have failed. The setting is not merely a backdrop but a metaphor for the moral ambiguity at the heart of the story.
What is the moral or lesson of "Dusk"?
The story delivers a layered moral about the unreliability of human judgment. On the surface, Gortsby learns "not to be too clever in judging by circumstances" — but the final twist reveals that his original judgment was actually correct. The real lesson, which Gortsby never receives, is that evidence can be misleading and coincidences are not proof. also warns against both extremes: excessive suspicion (which Gortsby starts with) and excessive trust (which he ends with). The story suggests that in a world where skilled deceivers exist, neither cynicism nor generosity is a reliable guide — and that the people who believe themselves the shrewdest judges of character are often the easiest to fool.
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