Mrs. S. Yes.  Albert was twenty-two then, weren’t you, Albert?

Carve.  Undoubtedly.

Janet.  And how did you come to find us out at last?

Mrs. S. It was through an advertisement put in the paper by that Mr. Texel—­him that’s in this law case—­offering a reward for information about a Mr. Albert Shawn who’d been valet to that artist man that died.

Janet.  Oh!  So Mr. Texel has been advertising, has he? (Giving a cup of tea to John Shawn.)

Mrs. S. Yes, for anybody that knew Albert Shawn when he was young.  “Albert Shawn,” I says, “that’s my husband’s name.”  I’d been told he’d gone off in service with a painter or something of that kind.  I married him as a valet.

Janet. (Pouring out tea.) A valet?

Mrs. S. A valet, ma’am....  And the struggle I’ve had to bring up my children. (Whimpering.)

James.  Now, mother!

Janet. (Stopping James.) That will do now!  Give it me. (Taking toast and fork.) Here’s some tea.  Now don’t pretend you’ve never seen a cup of tea before—­you a curate!

     (James accepts tea.)

Mrs. S. Yes, they would go into the church, both of them!  I don’t know how we’ve managed it, but managed it we have, surplices and all.  And very happy they were, I’m sure.  And now there’s this dreadful scandal.  Oh, Albert, you might at least have changed your name!  I—­I——­ (Partially breaks down.)

John.  Mother, I beg——­(Mrs. Shawn breaks down entirely.) Mother, I absolutely insist.  You know you promised not to speak at all except in answer to questions.

James.  I think, mother, you really might try——­

John.  Leave her to me!  Now, mother!

     (Loud double knock off.)

Janet. (To John Shawn.) There’s the post!  Just go and bring me the letters in, will you? (John hesitates?) You’ll find them scattered about the floor in the hall.  Don’t miss any.

     (Exit John Shawn, R.)

     (Mrs. Shawn recovers.)

James.  And what do you propose to do, madam?

Janet. (Who has been soothing Mrs. Shawn.) Me?  What about?

James.  About this—­this bigamy.

Janet.  Oh, nothing.  What are you thinking of doing?

     (Re-enter John Shawn with post, which carve takes and begins
     to read.)

James.  Well, I suppose you’re aware that bigamy is a criminal offence?

Janet.  There’s a police-station in the Upper Richmond Road.  Better call there.  It’ll be so nice for you two, when you’re flourishing about in the pulpit, to think of your father in prison—­won’t it now?

James.  We, of course, should not prosecute.  If you are prepared to go on living with this gentleman as though nothing had happened—­