Lady A. Don’t be so naughty, Meg.

Canynge.  When exactly did you come up, Dance?

Dancy.  About ten minutes ago.  I’d only just got into my dressing-room before Lady Adela came.  I’ve been writing letters in the hall since Colford and I finished billiards.

Canynge.  You weren’t up for anything in between?

Dancy.  No.

Margaret.  The mystery of the grey room.

Dancy.  Oughtn’t the grounds to be searched for footmarks?

Canynge.  That’s for the police.

Dancy.  The deuce!  Are they coming?

Canynge.  Directly. [A knock] Yes?

     Treisure enters.

Well?

Treisure.  The ladder has not been moved, General.  There isn’t a sign.

Winsor.  All right.  Get Robert up, but don’t say anything to him.  By the way, we’re expecting the police.

Treisure.  I trust they will not find a mare’s nest, sir, if I may say so.

     He goes.

Winsor.  De Levis has got wrong with Treisure. [Suddenly] But, I say, what would any of us have done if we’d been in his shoes?

Margaret.  A thousand pounds?  I can’t even conceive having it.

Dancy.  We probably shouldn’t have found it out.

Lady A. No—­but if we had.

Dancy.  Come to you—­as he did.

Winsor.  Yes; but there’s a way of doing things.

Canynge.  We shouldn’t have wanted the police.

Margaret.  No.  That’s it.  The hotel touch.

Lady A. Poor young man; I think we’re rather hard on him.

Winsor.  He sold that weed you gave him, Dancy, to Kentman, the bookie, and these were the proceeds.

Dancy.  Oh!

Winsor.  He’d tried her high, he said.

Dancy. [Grimly] He would.

Mabel.  Oh!  Ronny, what bad luck!

Winsor.  He must have been followed here. [At the window] After rain like that, there ought to be footmarks.

     The splutter of a motor cycle is heard.

Margaret.  Here’s the wind!

Winsor.  What’s the move now, General?

Canynge.  You and I had better see the Inspector in De Levis’s room, Winsor. [To the others] If you’ll all be handy, in case he wants to put questions for himself.

Margaret.  I hope he’ll want me; it’s just too thrilling.

Dancy.  I hope he won’t want me; I’m dog-tired.  Come on, Mabel. [He puts his arm in his wife’s].

Canynge.  Just a minute, Charles.

     He draws dose to Winsor as the others are departing to their rooms.

Winsor.  Yes, General?