ALICE (who is THE DEARTH now). Thank you. Better read the telegram, Matey, to be sure that you can make it out. (MATEY reads it to himself, and he has never quite the same faith in woman again. THE DEARTH continues in a purring voice.) Read it aloud, Matey.
MATEY. Oh, ma'am!
ALICE (without the purr). Aloud.
(Thus encouraged he reads the fatal missive.)
MATEY. 'To Police Station, Great Cumney. Send officer first thing to-morrow morning to arrest Matey, butler, for theft of rings.'
ALICE. Yes, that is quite right.
MATEY. Ma'am! (But seeing that she has taken up a book, he turns to LADY CAROLINE.) My lady!
LADY CAROLINE (whose voice strikes colder than THE DEARTH'S). Should we not say how many wings?
ALICE. Yes, put in the number of rings, Matey.
(MATEY does not put in the number, but he produces three rings from unostentatious parts of his person and returns them without noticeable dignity to their various owners.)