Jones.  What d’ you mean?

Mrs. Jones.  It’s been missed; they think it’s me.  Oh! whatever made you do it, Jem?

Jones.  I tell you I was in liquor.  I don’t want it; what’s the good of it to me?  If I were to pawn it they’d only nab me.  I ’m no thief.  I ’m no worse than wot that young Barthwick is; he brought ’ome that purse that I picked up—­a lady’s purse—­’ad it off ’er in a row, kept sayin’ ’e ’d scored ’er off.  Well, I scored ’im off.  Tight as an owl ‘e was!  And d’ you think anything’ll happen to him?

Mrs. Jones. [As though speaking to herself.] Oh, Jem! it’s the bread out of our mouths!

Jones.  Is it then?  I’ll make it hot for ’em yet.  What about that purse?  What about young Barthwick?

[Mrs. Jones comes forward to the table and tries to take the box; Jones prevents her.] What do you want with that?  You drop it, I say!

Mrs. Jones.  I ’ll take it back and tell them all about it. [She attempts to wrest the box from him.]

Jones.  Ah, would yer?

[He drops the box, and rushes on her with a snarl.  She slips back past the bed.  He follows; a chair is overturned.  The door is opened; Snow comes in, a detective in plain clothes and bowler hat, with clipped moustaches.  Jones drops his arms, Mrs. Jones stands by the window gasping; snow, advancing swiftly to the table, puts his hand on the silver box.]

Snow.  Doin’ a bit o’ skylarkin’?  Fancy this is what I ’m after.  J. B., the very same. [He gets back to the door, scrutinising the crest and cypher on the box.  To Mrs. Jones.] I’m a police officer.  Are you Mrs. Jones?

Mrs. Jones.  Yes, Sir.

Snow.  My instructions are to take you on a charge of stealing this box from J. Barthwick, Esquire, M.P., of 6, Rockingham Gate.  Anything you say may be used against you.  Well, Missis?

Mrs. Jones. [In her quiet voice, still out of breath, her hand upon her breast.] Of course I did not take it, sir.  I never have taken anything that did n’t belong to me; and of course I know nothing about it.

Snow.  You were at the house this morning; you did the room in which the box was left; you were alone in the room.  I find the box ’ere.  You say you did n’t take it?

Mrs. Jones.  Yes, sir, of course I say I did not take it, because I did not.

Snow.  Then how does the box come to be here?

Mrs. Jones.  I would rather not say anything about it.

Snow.  Is this your husband?

Mrs. Jones.  Yes, sir, this is my husband, sir.

Snow.  Do you wish to say anything before I take her?