Jack. [Glaring at them.] Well, what the devil——­

Mrs. Barthwick.  Jack!

Jack.  Well, Mother, I—­I don’t know what you do want.

Mrs. Barthwick.  We want you to speak the truth and say you never let this low man into the house.

Barthwick.  Of course if you think that you really gave this man whisky in that disgraceful way, and let him see what you’d been doing, and were in such a disgusting condition that you don’t remember a word of it——­

Roper. [Quick.] I’ve no memory myself—­never had.

Barthwick. [Desperately.] I don’t know what you’re to say.

Roper. [To Jack.] Say nothing at all!  Don’t put yourself in a false position.  The man stole the things or the woman stole the things, you had nothing to do with it.  You were asleep on the sofa.

Mrs. Barthwick.  Your leaving the latch-key in the door was quite bad enough, there’s no need to mention anything else. [Touching his forehead softly.] My dear, how hot your head is!

Jack.  But I want to know what I ’m to do. [Passionately.] I won’t be badgered like this.

     [Mrs. Barthwick recoils from him.]

Roper. [Very quickly.] You forget all about it.  You were asleep.

Jack.  Must I go down to the Court to-morrow?

Roper. [Shaking his head.] No.

Barthwick. [In a relieved voice.] Is that so?

Roper.  Yes.

Barthwick.  But you’ll go, Roper.

Roper.  Yes.

Jack. [With wan cheerfulness.] Thanks, awfully!  So long as I don’t have to go. [Putting his hand up to his head.] I think if you’ll excuse me—­I’ve had a most beastly day. [He looks from his father to his mother.]

Mrs. Barthwick. [Turning quickly.] Goodnight, my boy.

Jack.  Good-night, Mother.

     [He goes out.  Mrs. Barthwick heaves a sigh.  There is a
     silence.]

Barthwick.  He gets off too easily.  But for my money that woman would have prosecuted him.

Roper.  You find money useful.

Barthwick.  I’ve my doubts whether we ought to hide the truth——­

Roper.  There’ll be a remand.

Barthwick.  What!  D’ you mean he’ll have to appear on the remand.

Roper.  Yes.

Barthwick.  H’m, I thought you’d be able to——­Look here, Roper, you must keep that purse out of the papers.

     [Roper fixes his little eyes on him and nods.]

Mrs. Barthwick.  Mr. Roper, don’t you think the magistrate ought to be told what sort of people these Jones’s are; I mean about their immorality before they were married.  I don’t know if John told you.