TREISURE, the Butler, appears, a silent, grave man of almost supernatural conformity. DE LEVIS gives him a quick, hard look, noted and resented by WINSOR.
TREISURE. [To WINSOR] Yes, sir?
WINSOR. Who valets Mr De Levis?
TREISURE. Robert, Sir.
WINSOR. When was he up last?
TREISURE. In the ordinary course of things, about ten o'clock, sir.
WINSOR. When did he go to bed?
TREISURE. I dismissed at eleven.
WINSOR. But did he go?
TREISURE. To the best of my knowledge. Is there anything I can do, sir?