BARTHWICK. [Portentously.] This young—er—lady says that last night—I think you said last night madam—you took away——
UNKNOWN. [Impulsively.] My reticule, and all my money was in a crimson silk purse.
JACK. Reticule. [Looking round for any chance to get away.] I don't know anything about it.
BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] Come, do you deny seeing this young lady last night?
JACK. Deny? No, of course. [Whispering.] Why did you give me away like this? What on earth did you come here for?
UNKNOWN. [Tearfully.] I'm sure I didn't want to—it's not likely, is it? You snatched it out of my hand—you know you did—and the purse had all my money in it. I did n't follow you last night because I did n't want to make a fuss and it was so late, and you were so——
BARTHWICK. Come, sir, don't turn your back on me—explain!
JACK. [Desperately.] I don't remember anything about it. [In a low voice to his friend.] Why on earth could n't you have written?
UNKNOWN. [Sullenly.] I want it now; I must have, it—I 've got to pay my rent to-day. [She looks at BARTHWICK.] They're only too glad to jump on people who are not—not well off.
JACK. I don't remember anything about it, really. I don't remember anything about last night at all. [He puts his hand up to his head.] It's all—cloudy, and I 've got such a beastly headache.