Quex.
Run away to Mrs. Jack—ask her to let you share her room to-night. [Pointing to the writing-table.] Ah—! scribble a message—
[The Duchess seats herself at the writing-table and writes agitatedly at his dictation.
Quex.
[Dictating.] "The Duchess of Strood has been seized with a dreadful fit of nerves and has gone to Mrs. Eden's room. Come to her there at eight." Lay that upon the bed. [Indicating the bedroom.] Is there a door in there?
Duchess.
[Rising breathlessly.] Yes.
Quex.
Locked?
Duchess.