Colford. [Emphatically] No.

Canynge.  That’s not the question, Dancy.  This accusation was overheard by various members, and we represent the Club.  If you don’t take action, judgment will naturally go by default.

Dancy.  I might prefer to look on the whole thing as beneath contempt.

     He turns and goes out.  When he is gone there is an even longer
     silence than after de LEVIS’s departure.

St Erth. [Abruptly] I don’t like it.

Winsor.  I’ve known him all his life.

Colford.  You may have my head if he did it, Lord St Erth.  He and I have been in too many holes together.  By Gad!  My toe itches for that fellow’s butt end.

Borring.  I’m sorry; but has he t-taken it in quite the right way?  I should have thought—­hearing it s-suddenly—­

Colford.  Bosh!

Winsor.  It’s perfectly damnable for him.

St Erth.  More damnable if he did it, Winsor.

Borring.  The Courts are b-beastly distrustful, don’t you know.

Colford.  His word’s good enough for me.

Canynge.  We’re as anxious to believe Dancy as you, Colford, for the honour of the Army and the Club.

Winsor.  Of course, he’ll bring a case, when he’s thought it over.

St Erth.  What are we to do in the meantime?

Colford.  If Dancy’s asked to resign, you may take my resignation too.

Borring.  I thought his wanting to f-fight him a bit screeny.

Colford.  Wouldn’t you have wanted a shot at the brute?  A law court? 
Pah!

Winsor.  Yes.  What’ll be his position even if he wins?

Borring.  Damages, and a stain on his c-character.

Winsor.  Quite so, unless they find the real thief.  People always believe the worst.

Colford. [Glaring at Borring] They do.

Canynge.  There is no decent way out of a thing of this sort.

St Erth.  No. [Rising] It leaves a bad taste.  I’m sorry for young Mrs
Dancy—­poor woman!

Borring.  Are you going to play any more?

St Erth. [Abruptly] No, sir.  Good night to you.  Canynge, can I give you a lift?

     He goes out, followed by Canynge.  Borring.

[After a slight pause] Well, I shall go and take the t-temperature of the Club.

     He goes out.

Colford.  Damn that effeminate stammering chap!  What can we do for Dancy, Winsor?

Winsor.  Colford! [A slight pause] The General felt his coat sleeve that night, and it was wet.

Colford.  Well!  What proof’s that?  No, by George!  An old school-fellow, a brother officer, and a pal.