Car. No, you won't! (pauses; his arm slowly falls and he sways about limply) you're too anxious to keep your own identity secret just now to say anything about mine. Isn't that so—Mr. Crayll?
Cray. (swaying about) Tha's true, tha's true! Le's be frien's—shall we? Don' le's be touchy. If you'll come back, I'll do the right thing—marry you again—marry you anywhere you like—St. Paul's Cathedral, if you like. Come back and be a comfort to ailin' man. (sinks into chair) Le's have 'nother honeymoon. Shall we? Le's kiss an' be friends; but first le's have a little more whiskey. (taking whiskey) Shall we?
Car. (removing the tumbler, etc.) No, we won't have any more whiskey—in fact, I think we had better go now. (she takes whiskey syphon and glass to window, and looks out)
Cray. (who is now maudlin) Not friendly! No r'sumption of former 'fectionate footin', same time—no desire to remain—where not wanted. (puts cap on) Where's cigar case? Want cigar—smoke going home. (he very sleepily takes out letter case from his outside pocket) Oh, here 'tish! (as he holds it, he begins to doze, his arm falls its full length, and a letter falls out of case—his head falls right back, and he breathes heavily. He falls gradually into a deep sleep. She watches him quietly, then comes round to the right of him)
Car. (pause) Wake up! (shakes him) You mustn't sleep here.
Cray. (muttering) Want cigar!
Car. Want a cigar? But this is your letter case. (she takes it from him, and puts it into his outside pocket R. She then sees the fallen letter) And you've dropped something. (she picks it up—he snores) Looks like a writ. (she glances at it) Messrs. Brampton and Stokes (she pauses and looks at him) Ah! my first idea was right (crosses to gas with letter round to fireplace and reads it under the gas) "Messrs. Brampton and Stokes present their compliments to Lord Huntworth, and would be greatly obliged if he could place them in communication with the lady who was till very recently his wife. The reason for the application is urgent, as information has been received from an Australian firm of solicitors that Lady Huntworth has succeeded to a considerable fortune through the death of an uncle. (she again turns and looks at him) Messrs. Brampton and Stokes would greatly appreciate an early reply. Capel Court. May 9th." More than two months ago! Ah! (slight pause, crosses to top of table, and leans over it) Lord Huntworth, you will do me the favour to wake up. (he snores) I thought I had said everything I had to say, but I find I was wrong. (she stops and listens, then puts letter hurriedly inside her dress) What's that? Did I hear the gate go? (crosses to window, then crosses to Crayll and shakes him and pulls him up) Wake up—you mustn't be found here. (she pulls him up)
Cray. Wha's matter?
Car. I must put you somewhere; you wouldn't be easy to explain away. (she half-supports, half-carries him up and into scullery; when there she allows him to droop into a sitting position against the sink; she then shuts the scullery door) Quite like old times! (looks out of window—brings work-box down, goes up to door and listens. Mr. Pillenger enters)
Pil. Hum! Cook! (at door)