out the agreement if it turns out badly for him.  In fact, he thinks you a cad if you ask him to carry it out under such circumstances.  Just like the Merchant of Venice, you know.  But if a Jew makes an agreement, he means to keep it and expects you to keep it.  If he wants money for a time, he borrows it and knows he must pay it at the end of the time.  If he knows he cant pay, he begs it as a gift.

Ridgeon.  Come, Loony! do you mean to say that Jews are never rogues and thieves?

Schutzmacher.  Oh, not at all.  But I was not talking of criminals.  I was comparing honest Englishmen with honest Jews.

One of the hotel maids, a pretty, fair-haired woman of about 25, comes from the hotel, rather furtively.  She accosts Ridgeon.

The maid.  I beg your pardon, sir—­

Ridgeon.  Eh?

The maid.  I beg pardon, sir.  It’s not about the hotel.  I’m not allowed to be on the terrace; and I should be discharged if I were seen speaking to you, unless you were kind enough to say you called me to ask whether the motor has come back from the station yet.

Walpole.  Has it?

The maid.  Yes, sir.

Ridgeon.  Well, what do you want?

The maid.  Would you mind, sir, giving me the address of the gentleman that was with you at dinner?

Ridgeon [sharply] Yes, of course I should mind very much.  You have no right to ask.

The maid.  Yes, sir, I know it looks like that.  But what am I to do?

Sir Patrick.  Whats the matter with you?

The maid.  Nothing, sir.  I want the address:  thats all.

B. B. You mean the young gentleman?

The maid.  Yes, sir:  that went to catch the train with the woman he brought with him.

Ridgeon.  The woman!  Do you mean the lady who dined here? the gentleman’s wife?

The maid.  Dont believe them, sir.  She cant be his wife.  I’m his wife.

B. B. {[in amazed remonstrance] My good girl! 
Ridgeon {You his wife! 
Walpole {What! whats that?  Oh, this is getting perfectly
          fascinating, Ridgeon.

The maid.  I could run upstairs and get you my marriage lines in a minute, sir, if you doubt my word.  He’s Mr Louis Dubedat, isnt he?

Ridgeon.  Yes.

The maid.  Well, sir, you may believe me or not; but I’m the lawful Mrs Dubedat.

Sir Patrick.  And why arnt you living with your husband?

The maid.  We couldnt afford it, sir.  I had thirty pounds saved; and we spent it all on our honeymoon in three weeks, and a lot more that he borrowed.  Then I had to go back into service, and he went to London to get work at his drawing; and he never wrote me a line or sent me an address.  I never saw nor heard of him again until I caught sight of him from the window going off in the motor with that woman.