Act III.—Trapped.
Scene—Jarvis's rooms in London.
Keble (his man). Terrible thing that assault on Mr. Heron, Sir.
Jarvis. Yes, terrible.
Keble. I hope they don't suspect me of it, Sir.
Jarvis. Why on earth should they suspect you?
Keble. Well, I was known to be jealous of Mr. Heron, Sir. I found Susan sponging his shirt-front, and Susan and I are as good as engaged. Jarvis (mildly interested). How can you sponge a shirt-front?
Keble. It was an india-rubber one, Sir; they sponge off quite clean, and save the laundry bill, Sir. My——
Jarvis. Good Heavens, I'm ruined!
Enter Isaac Wolfe, his partner. Exit Keble.
Wolfe. Got the diamond, my boy?
Jarvis (moodily). Yes ... I'm done for; I must leave the country.
Wolfe. What d'you mean? You've got the diamond?
Jarvis (rapidly). I throttled him in the dark and got the diamond. My shirt-front fell off in the struggle. I noticed one on the floor and picked it up. I thought it was mine. It was his; his had fallen off too; and he was found with mine in his hand.
Wolfe. Well, why did you leave it there?
Jarvis. I thought it was his own—and that, anyhow, as long as we each had one, no one would notice. But his was an india-rubber one!
Wolfe. And that's the one you've got now? Well, burn it.
Jarvis (burying his face in his hands). It isn't! I cannot! I gave it to Miss Bullivant. (Grimly) But I shall get it back again.
Curtain.