Margaret.  Do you remember St Offert—­cards?  No, you wouldn’t—­you were in high frocks.  Well, St Offert got damages, but he also got the hoof, underneath.  He lives in Ireland.  There isn’t the slightest connection, so far as I can see, Mabel, between innocence and reputation.  Look at me!

Mabel.  We’ll fight it tooth and nail!

Margaret.  Mabel, you’re pure wool, right through; everybody’s sorry for you.

Mabel.  It’s for him they ought—­

Margaret. [Again handing the cigarette case] Do smoke, old thing.

     Mabel takes a cigarette this time, but does not light it.

It isn’t altogether simple.  General Canynge was there last night.  You don’t mind my being beastly frank, do you?

Mabel.  No.  I want it.

Margaret.  Well, he’s all for esprit de corps and that.  But he was awfully silent.

Mabel.  I hate half-hearted friends.  Loyalty comes before everything.

Margaret.  Ye-es; but loyalties cut up against each other sometimes, you know.

Mabel.  I must see Ronny.  D’you mind if I go and try to get him on the telephone?

Margaret.  Rather not.

     Mabel goes out by the door Left.

Poor kid!

She curls herself into a corner of the sofa, as if trying to get away from life.  The bell rings.  Margaret stirs, gets up, and goes out into the corridor, where she opens the door to lady Adela Winsor, whom she precedes into the sitting-room.

Enter the second murderer!  D’you know that child knew nothing?

Lady A. Where is she?

Margaret.  Telephoning.  Adela, if there’s going to be an action, we shall be witnesses.  I shall wear black georgette with an ecru hat.  Have you ever given evidence?

Lady A. Never.

Margaret.  It must be too frightfully thrilling.

Lady A. Oh!  Why did I ever ask that wretch De Levis?  I used to think him pathetic.  Meg did you know——­Ronald Dancy’s coat was wet?  The General happened to feel it.

Margaret.  So that’s why he was so silent.

Lady A. Yes; and after the scene in the Club yesterday he went to see those bookmakers, and Goole—­what a name!—­is sure he told Dancy about the sale.

Margaret. [Suddenly] I don’t care.  He’s my third cousin.  Don’t you feel you couldn’t, Adela?

Lady A. Couldn’t—­what?

Margaret.  Stand for De Levis against one of ourselves?

Lady A. That’s very narrow, Meg.

Margaret.  Oh!  I know lots of splendid Jews, and I rather liked little Ferdy; but when it comes to the point—!  They all stick together; why shouldn’t we?  It’s in the blood.  Open your jugular, and see if you haven’t got it.