UNKNOWN. Oh! I—I don't [She drops her eyes. BARTHWICK scrutinises her, and purses his lips.]
BARTHWICK. It was my son, perhaps, you wished to see?
UNKNOWN. [Quickly.] Yes, of course, it's your son.
BARTHWICK. May I ask whom I have the pleasure of speaking to?
UNKNOWN. [Appeal and hardiness upon her face.] My name is——oh! it does n't matter—I don't want to make any fuss. I just want to see your son for a minute. [Boldly.] In fact, I must see him.
BARTHWICK. [Controlling his uneasiness.] My son is not very well. If necessary, no doubt I could attend to the matter; be so kind as to let me know——
UNKNOWN. Oh! but I must see him—I 've come on purpose—[She bursts out nervously.] I don't want to make any fuss, but the fact is, last—last night your son took away—he took away my [She stops.]
BARTHWICK. [Severely.] Yes, madam, what?
UNKNOWN. He took away my—my reticule.
BARTHWICK. Your reti——?