(DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE _go out together_. BELINDA, _with a sigh, moves over to the Chesterfield and settles herself comfortably into it_. DEVENISH, _annoyed by_ TREMAYNE'S _attentions to_ DELIA, _crosses up angrily and looks off through the window up_ L. _above fireplace, then comes down_ L. _of the Chesterfield to the front of the fireplace_. BAXTER _moves up to the swing doors angrily watching_ DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE, _then moves to the window_ R. _and looks off_. BETTY _then enters with a salver from_ R. _She moves by the back of the settee to the back of the table_ C., _picks up the coffee-cups and goes out_ R. BAXTER _then moves over to the window facing the audience, up_ L. _He looks off, then comes down to the_ R. _of_ BELINDA.) Now we're together again. Well, Mr. Devenish? DEVENISH. Er--I-- BELINDA. No; I think I'll let Mr. Baxter speak first. I know he's longing to. BAXTER (_leaning on the back of the chair_ L. _of table--he clears his throat_). H'r'm! Mrs. Tremayne, I beg formally to claim your hand. BELINDA (_sweetly_). On what grounds, Mr. Baxter? DEVENISH (_spiritedly_). Yes, sir, on what grounds? BAXTER (_coming to_ R. _of Chesterfield, close to_ BELINDA). On the grounds that, as I told you this morning, I had succeeded in the quest. DEVENISH (_appearing to be greatly surprised_). Succeeded? BAXTER. Yes, Mr. Devenish, young fellow, you have lost. (_He moves a few paces_ R. _to below the chair_ L. _of the table_.) I have discovered the missing Mr. Robinson. DEVENISH (_wiping hit brow and coming to_ BAXTER). Who--where-- BAXTER (_dramatically_). Miss Robinson has at this moment gone out with her father. DEVENISH (_placing his hands heavily on_ BAXTER'S _shoulders, who staggers_). Good heavens! It was he! (_BAXTER pats_ DEVENISH _sympathetically and moves to the back of the Chesterfield and is about to speak to_ BELINDA. _She, however, silences him and he drops down to the front of the fireplace_.) BELINDA (_sympathetically_). Poor Mr. Devenish! DEVENISH (_pointing tragically to the table_). And to think that I actually sat on that table--no, that seat (_he points to the settee_ R., _then he moves up stage between it and the table_)-- that I sat there with him this morning, and never guessed! Why, ten minutes ago I was asking him for the nuts! BAXTER. Aha, Devenish, you're not so clever as you thought you were. DEVENISH (_coming quickly to the back of the chair_ L. _of the table_). Why, I must have given you the clue myself! He told me he had a scar on his arm, and I never thought any more of it. And then I went away innocently and left you two talking about it. BELINDA (_alarmed_). A scar on his arm? DEVENISH. Where a lion mauled him. (BELINDA _gives a little cry and shudder_.) BAXTER. It's quite healed up now, Mrs. Tremayne. BELINDA (_looking at him admiringly_). A lion! What you two have adventured for my sake! BAXTER. I suppose you will admit, Devenish, that I may fairly claim to have won?