Bravo, Professor! Does you credit, that theory of yours! Most ingenious! Must have been burglars, of course! With gout in all their four legs—eh, Mrs. Futvoye?
[Mrs. Futvoye regards him with puzzled displeasure.
Horace.
[In Pringle's ear.] Will you hold your confounded tongue!
Mrs. Wackerbath.
[To the Professor.] The wretches! But what a mercy that you weren't disturbed!
Pringle.
Oh, the Professor wasn't disturbed—not he! "Preserved perfect calm and self-control from first to last"—didn't you, Professor?
Professor Futvoye.
[Acidly.] As I was sound asleep during the whole business, sir, I presume I did.