HARVEY.  I say—­not found it?

MARTIN.  Not yet, sir.

HARVEY.  Nuisance. Must be here, you know.

MARTIN.  Is it a very valuable one, sir?

HARVEY. [Who has gone to the table, and is turning things over.] No, no, not particularly—­but that’s not the point. [He looks under the table.

MARTIN. [Still seeking.] When did madam find that she’d lost it, sir?

HARVEY.  Oh, about five minutes after we’d started And we’ve turned over everything in the car.  It’s certainly not there. [He fusses around the table.

MARTIN.  Is madam quite sure she was wearing it, sir?

SMITHERS. [Fretfully.] Yes, yes, of course she was wearing it.  I put it on her myself.

MARTIN.  Where did madam put her cloak on, sir?

SMITHERS.  In here.  I brought it in.

MARTIN.  You didn’t notice whether—­

SMITHERS.  No.  Don’t you think if we moved all the rugs—­

     [She moves across the room and joins WILLIAM, who is still
     grovelling on the floor, and goes on her knees by his side.

HARVEY.  It must be here somewhere.

[They are all searching furiously—­WILLIAM by the windows, peering into the spaces between the wall and the carpets, MARTIN at the sideboard, SMITHERS gathering the rugs together, all on their hands and knees, while HARVEY, bent double, is looking under the table. MRS. WESTERN comes in stonily, followed by the JUDGE and MRS. BANKET.  MRS. WESTERN is a handsome woman of forty-five, with a rather stern, cold face; the JUDGE, a somewhat corpulent, genial man of fifty-five; and his wife, an amiable nullity, seven or eight years younger.  They are all in evening-dress, the ladies in opera-cloaks.

MRS. WESTERN. [Pausing on the threshold.] Well!

HARVEY. [Rising and dusting himself.] No trace of it.

MRS. WESTERN. [Looking around.] A nice mess you’ve made of the room!

MARTIN.  You told us to look, Madam.

JUDGE. [Going to the fire and standing with his back to it.] I’m afraid we’ll be shockingly late, Alice.

MRS. WESTERN. [Firmly.] I don’t go without my bracelet.

     [She goes to the table, and proceeds to shift the cups and
     glasses.

MRS. BANKET. [Moving to the other side of the table, and doing the same.] Quite right, dear—­I wouldn’t.

     [They all search, except the JUDGE, who shrugs his shoulders
     placidly, then takes a cigarette from his case, and lights it. 
     The three servants still are grovelling on the floor.

MRS. WESTERN.  I know I had it while I was drinking my coffee—­

JUDGE.  My experience is, one should never look for things.  They find themselves.