Twisden.  There’s no end to human nature, General.

Graviter.  You can see queerer things in the papers, any day.

Canynge.  That poor young wife of his!  Winsor gave me a message for you,
Twisden.  If money’s wanted quickly to save proceedings, draw on him. 
Is there anything I can do?

Twisden.  I’ve advised him to go straight off to Morocco.

Canynge.  I don’t know that an asylum isn’t the place for him.  He must be off his head at moments.  That jump-crazy!  He’d have got a verdict on that alone—­if they’d seen those balconies.  I was looking at them when I was down there last Sunday.  Daring thing, Twisden.  Very few men, on a dark night—­He risked his life twice.  That’s a shrewd fellow—­young De Levis.  He spotted Dancy’s nature.

     The young Clerk enters.

Clerk.  The taxi’s here, sir.  Will you see Major Colford and Miss Orme?

Twisden.  Graviter—­No; show them in.

     The young Clerk goes.

Canynge.  Colford’s badly cut up.

     Margaret Orme and Colford enter.

Colford. [Striding forward] There must be some mistake about this, Mr
Twisden.

Twisden.  Hssh!  Dancy’s in there.  He’s admitted it.

     Voices are subdued at once.

Colford.  What? [With emotion] If it were my own brother, I couldn’t feel it more.  But—­damn it!  What right had that fellow to chuck up the case—­without letting him know, too.  I came down with Dancy this morning, and he knew nothing about it.

Twisden. [Coldly] That was unfortunately unavoidable.

Colford.  Guilty or not, you ought to have stuck to him—­it’s not playing the game, Mr Twisden.

Twisden.  You must allow me to judge where my duty lay, in a very hard case.

Colford.  I thought a man was safe with his solicitor.

Canynge.  Colford, you don’t understand professional etiquette.

Colford.  No, thank God!

Twisden.  When you have been as long in your profession as I have been in mine, Major Colford, you will know that duty to your calling outweighs duty to friend or client.

Colford.  But I serve the Country.

Twisden.  And I serve the Law, sir.

Canynge.  Graviter, give me a sheet of paper.  I’ll write a letter for him.

Margaret. [Going up to Twisden] Dear Mr Jacob—­pay De Levis.  You know my pearls—­put them up the spout again.  Don’t let Ronny be—­

Twisden.  Money isn’t the point, Margaret.

Margaret.  It’s ghastly!  It really is.

Colford.  I’m going in to shake hands with him. [He starts to cross the room].