OLIVIA. My first husband. His death was announced six years ago. I had left him some years before that, but there seems no doubt from your story that he's still alive. His record--the country he comes from--above all, the very unusual name--Telworthy. MR. PIM. Telworthy--yes--certainly a most peculiar name. I remember saying so. Your first husband? Dear me! Dear me! GEORGE. You understand, Mr. Pim, that all this is in absolute confidence. MR. PIM. Of course, of course. OLIVIA. Well, since he is my husband, we naturally want to know something about him. Where is he now, for instance? MR. PIM (surprised). Where is he now? But surely I told you? I told you what happened at Marseilles? GEORGE. At Marseilles? MR. PIM. Yes, yes, poor fellow, it was most unfortunate. (Quite happy again) You must understand, Lady Marden, that although I had met the poor fellow before in Australia, I was never in any way intimate-- GEORGE (thumping the desk). Where is he _now_, that's what we want to know? (MR. PIM turns to him with a start.) OLIVIA. Please, Mr. Pim! PIM. Where is he now? But--but didn't I tell you of the curious fatality at Marseilles--poor fellow--the fish-bone? ALL. Fish-bone? MR. PIM. Yes, yes, a herring, I understand. OLIVIA (understanding first). Do you mean he's dead? MR. PIM. Dead--of course--didn't I--? OLIVIA (laughing hysterically). Oh, Mr. Pim, you--oh, what a husband to have--oh, I--(But that is all she can say for the moment.) LADY MARDEN. Pull yourself together, Olivia. This is so unhealthy for you. (to PIM) So he really _is_ dead this time? MR. PIM. Oh, undoubtedly, undoubtedly. A fishbone lodged in his throat. GEORGE (trying to realise it). Dead! OLIVIA (struggling with her laughter). I think you must excuse me, Mr. Pim--I can never thank you enough--a herring--there's something about a herring--morality depends on such little things--George, you--(Shaking her head at him in a weak state of laughter, she hurries out of the room.) MR. PIM. Dear me! Dear me! GEORGE. Now, let us have this quite clear, Mr. Pim. You say that the man, Telworthy, Jacob Telworthy, is dead? MR. PIM. Telworthy, yes--didn't I say Telworthy? This man I was telling you about-- GEORGE. He's dead? MR. PIM. Yes, yes, he died at Marseilles. LADY MARDEN. A dispensation of Providence, George. One can look at it in no other light. GEORGE. Dead! (Suddenly annoyed) Really, Mr. Pim, I think you might have told us before. MR. PIM. But I--I _was_ telling you--I-- GEORGE. If you had only told us the whole story at once, instead of in two--two instalments like this, you would have saved us all a good deal of anxiety. MR. PIM. Really, I-- LADY MARDEN. I am sure Mr. Pim meant well, George, but it seems a pity he couldn't have said so before. If the man was dead, _why_ try to hush it up? MR. PIM (lost again). Really, Lady Marden, I--