_The dining-room in an upper middle-class house near the Park. It is furnished in the conventional modern style, soberly and without imagination. The room is on the ground floor, facing the street, the door is to the right, and leads into the hall. To the left of this door is a sideboard, glittering with silver. Three tall windows, at the back heavily curtained; between them hang two or three family portraits. The table, on which there is the usual debris of a meal that is over--coffee-cups, liqueur-glasses, etc.--has been laid for four persons, and their four chairs are still around it. The fireplace, with its rather crude and ambitious mantelpiece, is in the centre of the left wall; and uncomfortable-looking heavy armchairs are on each side of it. On the mantelpiece are a marble clock and a few bits of china. In the angle formed at the left side is a small Queen Anne writing-table, open. To the right of the room is a large sofa. The floor is heavily carpeted, and there are many rugs scattered about._ _When the curtain rises, the room is in darkness._ WILLIAM, _the footman, enters hurriedly and switches on the electric light. He rushes to the table, looks eagerly around, shifting cups and glasses, napkins, etc., then goes on his hands and knees and searches on the carpet. After a moment,_ SMITHERS, _the lady's-maid, follows him._ SMITHERS. [_Eagerly._] Can't you find it? WILLIAM. [_Sulkily._] No. Not yet. Give me time. SMITHERS. [_Feeling along the table-cloth._] Under one of those rugs, perhaps. WILLIAM. Well, I'm looking. [_Motor-horn sounds sharply, off._] All right, all right! SMITHERS. [_With a jerk of the head._] Missis is telling him to do it. WILLIAM. [_On all fours, crawling about._] Very like her voice, too, when she's angry. Drat the thing! Where can it be? [_He peers into the coal-scuttle._ SMITHERS. No good looking in there, stupid. WILLIAM. They always say it's the unlikeliest places-- [MARTIN, _the butler, comes in._ MARTIN. Come, come, haven't you found it? WILLIAM. No, Mr. Martin. It ain't here. MARTIN. [_Bustling about._] Must be, must be. She says-- WILLIAM. I can't help what she says. It ain't. MARTIN. [_Looking under the sofa._] Just you hustle, young man, and don't give me any back-answers. [_Having completed his examination of the sofa, he moves to the sideboard, and fusses round that._ SMITHERS. [_Methodically shaking out each napkin._] I tell you she's cross. MARTIN. [_Hard at work, searching._] Doesn't mind disturbing _us,_ in the midst of our supper! WILLIAM. [_Who, all the time, has been on all fours searching._] We're dirt, that's what we are--dirt. MARTIN. [_Reprovingly._] William, I've told you before--