Mrs. T. She's tired of antiques——
Mr. T. I have burdened the poor child too much with my hobbies.
Sue. She's gone to Cousin Anne's.
Mrs. T. And Professor Gates has gone after her.
Mr. B. (importantly). Come, I think we'd better attend to that burglar; he may escape.
Mrs. B. (hysterically). It's the same one that set off our burglar alarm. Leon said that the cat did it.
Mr. B. That may be. (Seizes telephone book.) I'll 'phone myself. (Starts for door r.; stumbles over Dean's suit-case.) What is this?
Mr. T. The burglar's suit-case. Doubtless it is full of booty.
Mrs. B. (examining suit-case). The burglar's? It's my brother's suit-case. See, the name is on the tag, "Eric Dean." (All look at suit-case.) And his overcoat! Oh, my poor brother has been robbed and murdered! (Drops into a chair.)