SCENE III.
Scene: The same, next morning.
[Merton looking worried and anxious comes hastily into the room and takes up his letters that are lying in a pile, evidently having come by the morning post. He looks through them as he stands. Enter Mrs Plant].
Mrs Plant [stands silent for a moment; he looks up, then goes on with his letters]. Might I speak to you for a moment, sir?
Merton [irritably]. I'm sorry, Mrs Plant—not now—I haven't a moment.
Mrs Plant. It's only that I don't know what to do for the best. [Merton has sat down and is cutting open his letters, throwing things into waste-paper basket, etc]. If it were only for one night it wouldn't matter so much.
Merton. One night! What do you mean?
Mrs Plant. It's about the spare room, sir. At least—at least—Jane's in such a state.
Merton. I can't discuss Jane now.
Mrs Plant. She's been so dreadfully frightened because she went into the room and that—person—pointed a revolver at her. [Merton looks up quickly, perturbed]. And now she is shrieking and carrying on so that I am afraid people will hear her in the street.
Merton [dashing his letters down]. Shrieking? What hysterical fools women are. Where is she?