Enter George Jeffreys, in the uniform of a private.

G.J. Mary!

M.B. (intervening jauntily).  Well, my man?

G.J. (his vocabulary strengthened by Army life).  You dash blank blighter!  You ruddy plague-spot!

Mary (gazing at him with horror).  Oh, George, those—­clothes—­don’t—­fit! [Sobs heartbrokenly.

M.B. (striking while the iron is hot).  Mary, you shall choose between us, here and now.

G.J. (yearningly).  Mary, with you to cheer me on I will win the V.C.  I swear it.  My beloved, come with me; there will be a separation allowance.

Mary (shuddering).  Not in those trousers.  I—­can’t. [She swoons in Marmaduke’s arms. George raises his fist to strike Marmaduke. Enter Sergeant Tompkins.

Sergt.  T. ‘Ere, none o’ that.  Private Jeffreys, ’SHUN!  Right—­TURN!  About—­TURN!  Left—­TURN!  Quick—­MARCH! [Exit George to win V.C.

CURTAIN.

ACT III.

    Marmaduke’s Mansion in Park Lane, August, 1916.

    [Enter Mary Beltravers (nee Gray), unhappy.

Mary. My little dog—­my only friend—­I cannot find him. (She rummages absently among the papers on her husband’s desk.  Suddenly she snatches up a document, reads it through and clutches at her throat.) My husband—­a German ser-py! (She turns savagely on Marmaduke, who has just entered.) So this—­this is the source of our wealth!  Your munitions arm our enemies.  You play the German game.

M.B. (simply).  I do.  I have a birth qualification.

Mary (wildly).  But I’ll thwart you; I’ll denounce you (seizes telephone).  You shall rue the day you married a true daughter of England.

M.B. (with sinister significance).  Remember, Mary, “to love, honour and OBEY.”  Put down that instrument. [With a gesture of despair she lets the receiver fall, thus driving the girl at the exchange nearly frantic.  Suddenly the door is thrown open.  Enter Captain George Jeffreys with Sergeant-Major Tompkins and squad of soldiers.

G.J. Marmaduke Beltravers, ne Heinrich Hoggenheimer, the game is up.  (Marmaduke dashes to the window.  The dozen supers outside raise a howl of execration mingled with cries of “Lynch the spy!”) You see, there is no way of escape.

M.B. (drawing revolver).  You shall not long enjoy your triumph.  I have but one cartridge, but perchance it will be enough for you. [Pulls trigger, but finds action rather stiff.

G.J. Look out, Mary!  These things are rather tricky in inexperienced hands. [Marmaduke succeeds in pulling trigger.  There is a violent explosion and a large hole appears in George’s breeches.