[Open-mouthed.] Bertie!
Sir Randle.
[Moving towards Bertram, mildly.] Bertram, my boy——?
Bertram.
[Curling his lip—to Philip.] Oh, you seem to be getting on exceedingly well without my assistance, Mackworth. I'm content to hold my tongue till Dunning arrives, I mean t'say.
Philip.
[Approaching Lady Filson.] You see, Lady Filson, Master Bertram is endowed with an exceptionally active brain; and when I gave those assurances to you and Sir Randle last June, it occurred to him that, in the event of my book failing to attract the market, there was a danger of my palming it off, with the kind aid of my publisher, as the out-and-out triumph I'd bragged of in advance; and the loud blasts of Titterton's trumpet strengthened Master Bertie's apprehensions. [Ottoline, unobserved, rises unsteadily and, with her eyes fixed fiercely upon Bertram, crosses the room at the back.] So what does he do, bless him for his devotion to his belongings! To safeguard his parents from being jockeyed, and as a brotherly precaution, he enlists the services, on the sly, of the obliging Mr. Dunning. We shall shortly have an opportunity of judging what that individual's game is. [With a shrug.] He may have stumbled legitimately into a mare's nest; but I doubt it. These ruffians'll stick at nothing to keep an ingenuous client on the hook—[He is interrupted by feeling Ottoline's hand upon his arm. He lays his hand on hers gently.] Otto dear——
Ottoline.
[Clutching him tightly and articulating with an effort.] It—it's infamous—shameful! My—my brother! It's infamous!
Philip.