[Aghast.] Why——!... Oh!
John.
[Blankly.] Eh?
Olive.
If we hear the banjo with such distinctness——
[They rise. He hurriedly ascends the steps and disappears through the portière. The music of the banjo stops abruptly, and the sound of voices comes from the library. Quaife enters, carrying a lamp which he deposits on the table; then, always watching Olive, he lights the standard-lamp and draws the window-curtains.
Shafto.
My dear fellow——!
Elphick.
My dear Jack——!