JACK. [Smiling pallidly.] I'm awfully sorry. If there's anything
I can do——
BARTHWICK. Do? You can restore this property, I suppose.
JACK. I'll go and have a look, but I really don't think I 've got it.
[He goes out hurriedly. And BARTHWICK, placing a chair, motions to the visitor to sit; then, with pursed lips, he stands and eyes her fixedly. She sits, and steals a look at him; then turns away, and, drawing up her veil, stealthily wipes her eyes. And Jack comes back.]
JACK. [Ruefully holding out the empty reticule.] Is that the thing? I 've looked all over—I can't find the purse anywhere. Are you sure it was there?
UNKNOWN. [Tearfully.] Sure? Of course I'm sure. A crimson silk purse. It was all the money I had.
JACK. I really am awfully sorry—my head's so jolly bad. I 've asked the butler, but he has n't seen it.
UNKNOWN. I must have my money——
JACK. Oh! Of course—that'll be all right; I'll see that that's all right. How much?
UNKNOWN. [Sullenly.] Seven pounds-twelve—it's all I 've got in the world.