MRS. TERENCE: He says he wants to see you very particular-- _A sharp rat-tat at the front door. (Going to the hall_) On a very particular matter.... (_Turning on_ MRS. BRAMSON) And don't you start callin' _me_ silly! _Going to the front door, and opening it._ This way, sir.... BELSIZE _enters, followed by_ MRS. TERENCE. _He is an entirely inconspicuous man of fifty, dressed in tweeds: his suavity hides any amount of strength._ BELSIZE: Mrs. Bramson? I'm sorry to break in on you like this. My card .... MRS. BRAMSON (_taking it, sarcastically_): I suppose you're going to tell me you're from Scotland Ya--(_She sees the name on the card._) BELSIZE: I see you've all your wits about you! MRS. BRAMSON: Oh. (_Reading incredulously_) Criminal Investigation Department! BELSIZE (_smiling_): A purely informal visit, I assure you. MRS. BRAMSON: I don't like having people in my house that I don't know. BELSIZE (_the velvet glove_): I'm afraid the law sometimes makes it necessary. MRS. TERENCE _gives him a chair next the table. He sits_. MRS. TERENCE _stands behind the table._ MRS. BRAMSON (_to her_): You can go. MRS. TERENCE: I don't want to go. I might 'ave to be arrested for stealing sugar. BELSIZE: Sugar?... As a matter of fact, you might be useful. Any of you may be useful. Mind my pipe? _MRS. BRAMSON blows in disgust and waves her hand before her face._ MRS. BRAMSON: Is it about my maid having an illegitimate child? BELSIZE: I beg your pardon?... Oh no! That sort of thing's hardly in my line, thank God ... Lonely spot ... (_To MRS. TERENCE_) Long way for you to walk every day, isn't it? MRS. TERENCE: I don't walk. I cycle. BELSIZE: Oh. MRS. BRAMSON: What's the matter? BELSIZE: I just thought if she walked she might use some of the paths, and have seen--something. (Note: The following pair of lines are spoken simultaneously.) MRS. BRAMSON: Something of what? MRS. TERENCE: Something? BELSIZE: I'll tell you. I-- _A piano is heard in the sun-room, playing the "Merry Widow" waltz. (Casually_) Other people in the house? MRS. BRAMSON (_calling shrilly_): Mr. Laurie! _The piano stops._ HUBERT'S VOICE (_as the piano stops, in the sun-room_): Yes? MRS. BRAMSON (_to OLIVIA, sourly_): Did you ask him to play the piano? _HUBERT comes back from the sun-room._ HUBERT (_breezily_): Hello, house on fire or something? MRS. BRAMSON: Very nearly. This is Mr.--er--Bel-- BELSIZE: Belsize. MRS. BRAMSON (_drily_): Of Scotland Yard. HUBERT: Oh.... (_Apprehensive_) It isn't about my car, is it? BELSIZE: No. HUBERT: Oh. (_Shaking hands affably_) How do you do? BELSIZE: How do you do, sir.... MRS. BRAMSON: He's a friend of Miss Grayne's here. Keeps calling. BELSIZE: Been calling long? MRS. BRAMSON: Every day for two weeks. Just before lunch. HUBERT: Well-- OLIVIA (_sitting on the sofa_): Perhaps I'd better introduce myself. I'm Olivia Grayne, Mrs. Bramson's niece. I work for her. BELSIZE: Oh, I see. Thanks. Well now ...