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 were n'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 has n'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. Give me what was in my purse; I've got to pay my rent this morning. They won't' give me another day; I'm a fortnight behind already. JACK. [Blankly.] I'm awfully sorry; I really have n't a penny in my pocket. [He glances stealthily at BARTHWICK.] UNKNOWN. [Excitedly.] Come I say you must--it's my money, and you took it. I 'm not going away without it. They 'll turn me out of my place. JACK. [Clasping his head.] But I can't give you what I have n't got. Don't I tell you I have n't a beastly cent. UNKNOWN. [Tearing at her handkerchief.] Oh! do give it me! [She puts her hands together in appeal; then, with sudden fierceness.] If you don't I'll summons you. It's stealing, that's what it is! BARTHWICK. [Uneasily.] One moment, please. As a matter of---er --principle, I shall settle this claim. [He produces money.] Here is eight pounds; the extra will cover the value of the purse and your cab fares. I need make no comment--no thanks are necessary. [Touching the bell, he holds the door ajar in silence. The unknown lady stores the money in her reticule, she looks from JACK to BARTHWICK, and her face is quivering faintly with a smile. She hides it with her hand, and steals away. Behind her BARTHWICK shuts the door.] BARTHWICK. [With solemnity.] H'm! This is nice thing to happen! JACK. [Impersonally.] What awful luck!