Hilda. I'll go to the summer-house and wait. (Shyly.) Perhaps I may be there a long time, Mr. Dean. [Exit with suit-case, r.
Dean (looking after her). Dear little girl! (Shakes head at teapot.) Now here's a quandary: how can I get you back to papa without offending that divinity? Well, I can't let her go to New York. I'll think it over.
(Places overcoat over arm to conceal teapot. Exit, r., with suit-case. Noise without. Enter Mr. T. with a revolver in one hand and dragging Dean with the other.)
Mr. T. Caught in the act! What does this mean? Put down that teapot. (Dean obeys.) Set down the suit-case. (Dean obeys.) You show great discrimination for a burglar. You know what is valuable.
Dean. Sir, I am not——
Mr. T. (sarcastically). You're not a burglar? You haven't robbed three houses on this street within a week, I suppose?
Dean. Let me explain——
Mr. T. (dragging him toward door l.). Keep your explanations for the officers.
Dean (helplessly). I assure you——
Mr. T. (pointing revolver at Dean). Silence! I need no advice, sir.