EUCLID. No—you are a damned deal worse; you are an accessory before the fact.
FANNY. What fact?
EUCLID. An enormous fact—murder!
FANNY. Oh, Mr. Facile! Ha! ha! you are joking.
EUCLID. Joking, eh! It’s all very fine for you to pretend you didn’t know a man was in that basket.
FANNY. Oh, a very fine trick. Ah, no, you are in fun; there was a note tied; I have it in my pocket. (pulls it out.) There, sir; pardon me blushing if it says anything soft.
EUCLID. (reading.) “Dear Fan—
FANNY. Deceitful wretch!
EUCLID. “Inclosed herewith you have my master.”
FANNY. (screams.) Oh!