Wanda. [Faintly] Larry!

Keith.  He’s in no danger.  They always get the wrong man first.  It’ll do him no harm to be locked up a bit—­hyena like that.  Better in prison, anyway, than sleeping out under archways in this weather.

Larry.  What was he like, Keith?

Keith.  A little yellow, ragged, lame, unshaven scarecrow of a chap. 
They were fools to think he could have had the strength.

Larry.  What! [In an awed voice] Why, I saw him—­after I left you last night.

Keith.  You?  Where?

Larry.  By the archway.

Keith.  You went back there?

Larry.  It draws you, Keith.

KErra.  You’re mad, I think.

Larry.  I talked to him, and he said, “Thank you for this little chat.  It’s worth more than money when you’re down.”  Little grey man like a shaggy animal.  And a newspaper boy came up and said:  “That’s right, guv’nors!  ’Ere’s where they found the body—­very spot.  They ’yn’t got ’im yet.”

     [He laughs; and the terrified girl presses herself against him.]

An innocent man!

Keith.  He’s in no danger, I tell you.  He could never have strangled——­Why, he hadn’t the strength of a kitten.  Now, Larry!  I’ll take your berth to-morrow.  Here’s money [He brings out a pile of notes and puts them on the couch] You can make a new life of it out there together presently, in the sun.

Larry. [In a whisper] In the sun!  “A cup of wine and thou.” [Suddenly] How can I, Keith?  I must see how it goes with that poor devil.

Keith.  Bosh!  Dismiss it from your mind; there’s not nearly enough evidence.

Larry.  Not?

Keith.  No.  You’ve got your chance.  Take it like a man.

Larry. [With a strange smile—­to the girl] Shall we, Wanda?

Wanda.  Oh, Larry!

Larry. [Picking the notes up from the couch] Take them back, Keith.

Keith.  What!  I tell you no jury would convict; and if they did, no judge would hang.  A ghoul who can rob a dead body, ought to be in prison.  He did worse than you.

Larry.  It won’t do, Keith.  I must see it out.

Keith.  Don’t be a fool!

Larry.  I’ve still got some kind of honour.  If I clear out before I know, I shall have none—­nor peace.  Take them, Keith, or I’ll put them in the fire.

Keith. [Taking back the notes; bitterly] I suppose I may ask you not to be entirely oblivious of our name.  Or is that unworthy of your honour?

Larry. [Hanging his head] I’m awfully sorry, Keith; awfully sorry, old man.

Keith. [sternly] You owe it to me—­to our name—­to our dead mother —­to do nothing anyway till we see what happens.