Sir Fletcher Portwood.
[Opening the paper.] I happen to be among them. But the fool of an artist has completely missed my salient points——
Justina runs in with Theophila’s letter, opened, and the wedding-ring.
Justina.
Aunt! oh, I say! What do you think? Theo’s gone!
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
She’s gone out for a walk. [To Mrs. Cloys.] Here it is. That’s from an old photograph; I don’t wear that sort of collar now.
Justina.
[Advancing between Mrs. Cloys and Sir Fletcher.] What are you talking about? Look here! [Reading.] “’Tina, hand enclosed to my husband when he comes back for me to-night after dinner.” [Showing the ring.] It’s her wedding-ring. [Reading.] “He believes that what that creature charged me with is true, and wants to take me away and hide me. All is up with me. Oh, those pipers at Locheen are playing into my brain again. Good-bye all.—Theo. P.S.—Jack Allingham would not treat a woman so like dirt.”
Mrs. Cloys.