Stella (taking the telegram). More windows!
Jack. “The crowd are still after him.”
Walter. Crowd?
Jack. “He has just climbed a tall chimney stack marked Bovril, and is now sitting on the top.”
Walter. Good Lord!
Jack. “Marked Bovril,” is this to be your fate, alas, my poor brother!
Walter (snatches the wire and reads). “They are fetching a fire escape. He keeps yowling.”
Stella (taking telegram). Yowling?
Walter. Suppose the police get him and think it’s me, I’ll be blamed for all this damned thing. We must catch him. We’ll buy a gag and handcuffs as we go along.
Stella. Gag? Why?