BELSIZE: Mrs. Bramson? I'm sorry to break in on you like this. My card ….
MRS. BRAMSON (taking it, sarcastically): I suppose you're going to tell me you're from Scotland Ya—(She sees the name on the card.)
BELSIZE: I see you've all your wits about you!
MRS. BRAMSON: Oh. (Reading incredulously) Criminal Investigation
Department!
BELSIZE (smiling): A purely informal visit, I assure you.
MRS. BRAMSON: I don't like having people in my house that I don't know.
BELSIZE (the velvet glove): I'm afraid the law sometimes makes it necessary.
MRS. TERENCE gives him a chair next the table. He sits. MRS.
TERENCE stands behind the table.
MRS. BRAMSON (to her): You can go.
MRS. TERENCE: I don't want to go. I might 'ave to be arrested for stealing sugar.