Dor. Hulloa, sir! Were you in there?
Pil. Yes—I—er—was.
Dor. What, all the time?
Pil. I had an important reason for desiring a few minutes' conversation with—er—Cook.
Car. Mr. Pillenger shared your wish that I should better myself.
Dor. That's devilish lucky, because, as you were a witness, you can clean the slate for us, and back up what I say.
Pil. You fail to perceive that my perfectly innocent sojourn in the larder would be as difficult of plausible explanation as your own regrettable occupancy of the broom cupboard.
Dor. Jove, yes, that's true! What had we better do?
Car. The first step—especially as you are both invalids (the men look at each other) is for you to go to bed.