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.

 

UNKNOWN. But you took it; you know you did. You said you'd score me off.

 

JACK. Well, then, it must be here. I remember now—I remember something. Why did I take the beastly thing?

 

BARTHWICK. Yes, why did you take the beastly—  [He turns abruptly to the window.]

 

UNKNOWN. [With her mesmeric smile.] You weren't quite were you?

 

JACK. [Smiling pallidly.] I'm awfully sorry. If there's anything I can do—

 

BARTHWICK. Do? You can restore this property, I suppose.

 

JACK. I'll go and have a look, but I really don't think I've got it.

 

[He goes out hurriedly. And BARTHWICK, placing a chair, motions to the visitor to sit; then, with pursed lips, he stands and eyes her fixedly. She sits, and steals a look at him; then turns away, and, drawing up her veil, stealthily wipes her eyes. And Jack comes back.]

 

JACK. [Ruefully holding out the empty reticule.] Is that the thing? I've looked all over—I can't find the purse anywhere. Are you sure it was there?

 

UNKNOWN. [Tearfully.] Sure? Of course I'm sure. A crimson silk purse. It was all the money I had.

 

JACK. I really am awfully sorry—my head's so jolly bad. I've asked the butler, but he hasn't seen it.

 

UNKNOWN. I must have my money—

 

JACK. Oh! Of course—that'll be all right; I'll see that that's all right. How much?

 

UNKNOWN. [Sullenly.] Seven pounds-twelve—it's all I've got in the world.

 

JACK. That'll be all right; I'll—send you a cheque.

 

UNKNOWN. [Eagerly.] No; now, please.