Barthwick.  Whom did you want to see, madam?

Unknown. [Stopping and looking back.] It was Mr. John Barthwick I wanted to see.

Barthwick.  I am John Barthwick, madam.  What can I have the pleasure of doing for you?

Unknown.  Oh!  I—­I don’t [She drops her eyes.  Barthwick scrutinises her, and purses his lips.]

Barthwick.  It was my son, perhaps, you wished to see?

Unknown. [Quickly.] Yes, of course, it’s your son.

Barthwick.  May I ask whom I have the pleasure of speaking to?

Unknown. [Appeal and hardiness upon her face.] My name is——­oh! it does n’t matter—­I don’t want to make any fuss.  I just want to see your son for a minute. [Boldly.] In fact, I must see him.

Barthwick. [Controlling his uneasiness.] My son is not very well.  If necessary, no doubt I could attend to the matter; be so kind as to let me know——­

Unknown.  Oh! but I must see him—­I ’ve come on purpose—­[She bursts out nervously.] I don’t want to make any fuss, but the fact is, last—­last night your son took away—­he took away my [She stops.]

Barthwick. [Severely.] Yes, madam, what?

Unknown.  He took away my—­my reticule.

Barthwick.  Your reti——?

Unknown.  I don’t care about the reticule; it’s not that I want—­I ’m sure I don’t want to make any fuss—­[her face is quivering]—­but —­but—­all my money was in it!

Barthwick.  In what—­in what?

Unknown.  In my purse, in the reticule.  It was a crimson silk purse.  Really, I wouldn’t have come—­I don’t want to make any fuss.  But I must get my money back—­mustn’t I?

Barthwick.  Do you tell me that my son——?

Unknown.  Oh! well, you see, he was n’t quite I mean he was

     [She smiles mesmerically.]

Barthwick.  I beg your pardon.

Unknown. [Stamping her foot.] Oh! don’t you see—­tipsy!  We had a quarrel.

Barthwick. [Scandalised.] How?  Where?

Unknown. [Defiantly.] At my place.  We’d had supper at the——­and your son——­

Barthwick. [Pressing the bell.] May I ask how you knew this house? 
Did he give you his name and address?

Unknown. [Glancing sidelong.] I got it out of his overcoat.

Barthwick. [Sardonically.] Oh! you got it out of his overcoat. 
And may I ask if my son will know you by daylight?

Unknown.  Know me?  I should jolly—­I mean, of course he will!
     [Marlow comes in.]

Barthwick.  Ask Mr. John to come down.

     [Marlow goes out, and Barthwick walks uneasily about.]

And how long have you enjoyed his acquaintanceship?