QUEX.

[Very quietly.] Oh, she has run out for a few minutes?

SOPHY.

She might be a quarter of an hour.

QUEX.

Not run out; flown out, at one of these windows.

SOPHY.

[Faintly.] One of these windows?

QUEX.

[Pointing to the entrance.] She has not gone out by the door.

SOPHY.

What do you mean?

QUEX.

Your young ladies assured me just now that Miss Eden was in this room with you. [FRAYNE, possessed of an idea, has gone to the door in the partition.  He now raps at the door gently.] No, no, Chick—­please! we are not policemen.

FRAYNE.

[Opening the door a few inches.] Miss Eden, I regret to learn you are suffering from headache.

SOPHY.

[Indignantly.] Well, of all the liberties—!

QUEX.

[Angrily.] Frayne!

FRAYNE.

May I tell you of an unfailing remedy—? [He peeps into the private room, then withdraws his head, and says to QUEX.] No.

SOPHY.

[Flouncing up to FRAYNE, and speaking volubly and violently.] Now, look here, sir, I’m a busy woman—­as busy and as hard-working a woman as any in London.  Because you see things a bit slack Ascot week, it doesn’t follow that my books, and a hundred little matters, don’t want attending to. [Sitting at the desk and opening and closing the books noisily.] And I’m certainly not going to have gentlemen, whoever they may be, marching into my place, and taking possession of it, and doubting my word, and opening and shutting doors, exactly as if they were staying in a common hotel.  I’d have you to know that my establishment isn’t conducted on that principle.

[QUEX has been standing, with compressed lips and a frown upon his face, leaning upon the back of the chair near the circular table.  During SOPHY’S harangue his eyes fall upon the jeweller’s case and the scrap of paper lying open upon it.  He stares at the writing for a moment, then comes to the table and picks up both the case and the paper.

FRAYNE.

[To SOPHY, while this is going on.] My good lady, a little candour on your part—­

SOPHY.

I don’t understand what you’re hinting at by “a little candour.”  You’ve already been told where Miss Eden is, and anybody who knows me knows that if I say a thing—­

FRAYNE.

But when your young ladies declare—­

SOPHY.

I’m really not responsible for the sayings and doings of a parcel of stupid girls.  If they didn’t see Miss Eden go out they were asleep, and if they weren’t asleep they’re blind; and as I’ve explained till I’m hoarse, I’m very busy this morning, and I should be extremely obliged to you two gentlemen if you’d kindly go away and call again a little later.