Barthwick.  Come, sir, don’t turn your back on me—­explain!

Jack. [Desperately.] I don’t remember anything about it. [In a low voice to his friend.] Why on earth could n’t you have written?

Unknown. [Sullenly.] I want it now; I must have, it—­I ’ve got to pay my rent to-day. [She looks at Barthwick.] They’re only too glad to jump on people who are not—­not well off.

Jack.  I don’t remember anything about it, really.  I don’t remember anything about last night at all. [He puts his hand up to his head.] It’s all—­cloudy, and I ’ve got such a beastly headache.

Unknown.  But you took it; you know you did.  You said you’d score me off.

Jack.  Well, then, it must be here.  I remember now—­I remember something.  Why did I take the beastly thing?

Barthwick.  Yes, why did you take the beastly——­[He turns abruptly to the window.]

Unknown. [With her mesmeric smile.] You were n’t quite were you?

Jack. [Smiling pallidly.] I’m awfully sorry.  If there’s anything I can do——­

Barthwick.  Do?  You can restore this property, I suppose.

Jack.  I’ll go and have a look, but I really don’t think I ’ve got it.

[He goes out hurriedly.  And Barthwick, placing a chair, motions to the visitor to sit; then, with pursed lips, he stands and eyes her fixedly.  She sits, and steals a look at him; then turns away, and, drawing up her veil, stealthily wipes her eyes.  And Jack comes back.]

Jack. [Ruefully holding out the empty reticule.] Is that the thing?  I ’ve looked all over—­I can’t find the purse anywhere.  Are you sure it was there?

Unknown. [Tearfully.] Sure?  Of course I’m sure.  A crimson silk purse.  It was all the money I had.

Jack.  I really am awfully sorry—­my head’s so jolly bad.  I ’ve asked the butler, but he has n’t seen it.

Unknown.  I must have my money——­

Jack.  Oh!  Of course—­that’ll be all right; I’ll see that that’s all right.  How much?

Unknown. [Sullenly.] Seven pounds-twelve—­it’s all I ’ve got in the world.

Jack.  That’ll be all right; I’ll—­send you a cheque.

Unknown. [Eagerly.] No; now, please.  Give me what was in my purse; I’ve got to pay my rent this morning.  They won’t’ give me another day; I’m a fortnight behind already.

Jack. [Blankly.] I’m awfully sorry; I really have n’t a penny in my pocket.

     [He glances stealthily at Barthwick.]

Unknown. [Excitedly.] Come I say you must—­it’s my money, and you took it.  I ’m not going away without it.  They ’ll turn me out of my place.

Jack. [Clasping his head.] But I can’t give you what I have n’t got.  Don’t I tell you I have n’t a beastly cent.