Barthwick.  H’m!  Is she in the house now?

Marlow.  Yes, Sir.

Barthwick.  Very good.  I shall make a point of clearing this up.  On principle I shall make a point of fixing the responsibility; it goes to the foundations of security.  In all your interests——­

Marlow.  Yes, Sir.

Barthwick.  What sort of circumstances is this Mrs. Jones in?  Is her husband in work?

Marlow.  I believe not, sir.

Barthwick.  Very well.  Say nothing about it to any one.  Tell
Wheeler not to speak of it, and ask Mrs. Jones to step up here.

Marlow.  Very good, sir.

     [Marlow goes out, his face concerned; and Barthwick stays, his
     face judicial and a little pleased, as befits a man conducting
     an inquiry.  Mrs. Barthwick and hey son come in.]

Barthwick.  Well, my dear, you’ve not seen it, I suppose?

Mrs. Barthwick.  No.  But what an extraordinary thing, John!  Marlow, of course, is out of the question.  I ’m certain none of the maids as for cook!

Barthwick.  Oh, cook!

Mrs. Barthwick.  Of course!  It’s perfectly detestable to me to suspect anybody.

Barthwick.  It is not a question of one’s feelings.  It’s a question of justice.  On principle——­

Mrs. Barthwick.  I should n’t be a bit surprised if the charwoman knew something about it.  It was Laura who recommended her.

Barthwick. [Judicially.] I am going to have Mrs. Jones up.  Leave it to me; and—­er—­remember that nobody is guilty until they’re proved so.  I shall be careful.  I have no intention of frightening her; I shall give her every chance.  I hear she’s in poor circumstances.  If we are not able to do much for them we are bound to have the greatest sympathy with the poor. [Mrs. Jones comes in.] [Pleasantly.] Oh! good morning, Mrs. Jones.

Mrs. Jones. [Soft, and even, unemphatic.] Good morning, sir!  Good morning, ma’am!

Barthwick.  About your husband—­he’s not in work, I hear?

Mrs. Jones.  No, sir; of course he’s not in work just now.

Barthwick.  Then I suppose he’s earning nothing.

Mrs. Jones.  No, sir, he’s not earning anything just now, sir.

Barthwick.  And how many children have you?

Mrs. Jones.  Three children; but of course they don’t eat very much sir. [A little silence.]

Barthwick.  And how old is the eldest?

Mrs. Jones.  Nine years old, sir.

Barthwick.  Do they go to school?

Mrs. Jones, Yes, sir, they all three go to school every day.

Barthwick. [Severely.] And what about their food when you’re out at work?