Lukyn.
[Who has listened to Vale’s answers in helpless horror.] By George, well out of it!
[Charlotte totters across to Agatha Posket, who embraces her.
Lukyn.
[Taking down the overcoats and throwing one to Vale.] Vale, your coat.
Harris enters.
Harris.
[To Messiter.] Very sorry, sir; the two other gentlemen got clean off, through the back scullery door—old hands, to all appearance.
[Messiter stamps his foot, with an exclamation.
Agatha Posket.