Then we should know what truth there was in what this fellow says – as it is, it's all the most confounded darkness.
JACK. [Staring as though at half-formed visions.] I just get a – and then – it 's gone —
MRS. BARTHWICK. Oh, Jack! do you mean to say you were so tipsy you can't even remember —
JACK. Look here, Mother! Of course I remember I came – I must have come —
BARTHWICK. [Unguardedly, and walking up and down.] Tcha! – and that infernal purse! Good Heavens! It'll get into the papers. Who on earth could have foreseen a thing like this? Better to have lost a dozen cigarette-boxes, and said nothing about it. [To his wife.] It's all your doing. I told you so from the first. I wish to goodness Roper would come!
MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] I don't know what you're talking about, John.
BARTHWICK. [Turning on her.] No, you – you – you don't know anything! [Sharply.] Where the devil is Roper? If he can see a way out of this he's a better man than I take him for. I defy any one to see a way out of it. I can't.
JACK. Look here, don't excite Dad – I can simply say I was too beastly tired, and don't remember anything except that I came in and [in a dying voice] went to bed the same as usual.
BARTHWICK. Went to bed? Who knows where you went – I 've lost all confidence. For all I know you slept on the floor.
JACK. [Indignantly.] I did n't, I slept on the —
BARTHWICK. [Sitting on the sofa.] Who cares where you slept; what does it matter if he mentions the – the – a perfect disgrace?
MRS. BARTHWICK. What? [A silence.] I insist on knowing.
JACK. Oh! nothing.
MRS. BARTHWICK. Nothing? What do you mean by nothing, Jack?
There's your father in such a state about it!
JACK. It's only my purse.
MRS. BARTHWICK. Your purse! You know perfectly well you have n't got one.
JACK. Well, it was somebody else's – it was all a joke – I did n't want the beastly thing.
MRS. BARTHWICK. Do you mean that you had another person's purse, and that this man took it too?
BARTHWICK. Tcha! Of course he took it too! A man like that Jones will make the most of it. It'll get into the papers.
MRS. BARTHWICK. I don't understand. What on earth is all the fuss about? [Bending over JACK, and softly.] Jack now, tell me dear! Don't be afraid. What is it? Come!
JACK. Oh, don't Mother!
MRS. BARTHWICK. But don't what, dear?
JACK. It was pure sport. I don't know how I got the thing. Of course I 'd had a bit of a row – I did n't know what I was doing – I was – I Was – well, you know – I suppose I must have pulled the bag out of her hand.
MRS. BARTHWICK. Out of her hand? Whose hand? What bag – whose bag?
JACK. Oh! I don't know – her bag – it belonged to – [in a desperate and rising voice] a woman.
MRS. BARTHWICK. A woman? Oh! Jack! No!
JACK. [Jumping up.] You would have it. I did n't want to tell you. It's not my fault.
[The door opens and MARLOW ushers in a man of middle age, inclined to corpulence, in evening dress. He has a ruddy, thin moustache, and dark, quick-moving little eyes. His eyebrows aye Chinese.]
MARLOW. Mr. Roper, Sir. [He leaves the room.]
ROPER. [With a quick look round.] How do you do?
[But neither JACK nor MRS. BARTHWICK make a sign.]
BARTHWICK. [Hurrying.] Thank goodness you've come, Roper. You remember what I told you this afternoon; we've just had the detective here.
ROPER. Got the box?
BARTHWICK. Yes, yes, but look here – it was n't the charwoman at all; her drunken loafer of a husband took the things – he says that fellow there [he waves his hand at JACK, who with his shoulder raised, seems trying to ward off a blow] let him into the house last night. Can you imagine such a thing.
[Roper laughs. ]
BARTHWICK. [With excited emphasis.]. It's no laughing matter, Roper. I told you about that business of Jack's too – don't you see the brute took both the things – took that infernal purse. It'll get into the papers.
ROPER. [Raising his eyebrows.] H'm! The purse! Depravity in high life! What does your son say?
BARTHWICK. He remembers nothing. D – n! Did you ever see such a mess? It 'll get into the papers.
MRS. BARTHWICK. [With her hand across hey eyes.] Oh! it's not that —
[BARTHWICK and ROPER turn and look at her.]
BARTHWICK. It's the idea of that woman – she's just heard —
[ROPER nods. And MRS. BARTHWICK, setting her lips, gives a slow look at JACK, and sits down at the table.]
What on earth's to be done, Roper? A ruffian like this Jones will make all the capital he can out of that purse.
MRS. BARTHWICK. I don't believe that Jack took that purse.
BARTHWICK. What – when the woman came here for it this morning?
MRS. BARTHWICK. Here? She had the impudence? Why was n't I told?
[She looks round from face to face – no one answers hey, there is a pause.]
BARTHWICK. [Suddenly.] What's to be done, Roper?
ROPER. [Quietly to JACK.] I suppose you did n't leave your latch-key in the door?
JACK. [Sullenly.] Yes, I did.
BARTHWICK. Good heavens! What next?
MRS. BARTHWICK. I 'm certain you never let that man into the house, Jack, it's a wild invention. I'm sure there's not a word of truth in it, Mr. Roper.
ROPER. [Very suddenly.] Where did you sleep last night?
JACK. [Promptly.] On the sofa, there – [hesitating] – that is – I —
BARTHWICK. On the sofa? D' you mean to say you did n't go to bed?
JACK.[Sullenly.] No.
BARTHWICK. If you don't remember anything, how can you remember that?
JACK. Because I woke up there in the morning.
MRS. BARTHWICK. Oh, Jack!
BARTHWICK. Good Gracious!
JACK. And Mrs. Jones saw me. I wish you would n't bait me so.
ROPER. Do you remember giving any one a drink?
JACK. By Jove, I do seem to remember a fellow with – a fellow with
[He looks at Roper.] I say, d' you want me – ?
ROPER. [Quick as lightning.] With a dirty face?
JACK. [With illumination.] I do – I distinctly remember his —
[BARTHWICK moves abruptly; MRS. BARTHWICK looks at ROPER angrily, and touches her son's arm.]
MRS. BARTHWICK. You don't remember, it's ridiculous! I don't believe the man was ever here at all.
BARTHWICK. You must speak the truth, if it is the truth. But if you do remember such a dirty business, I shall wash my hands of you altogether.
JACK. [Glaring at them.] Well, what the devil —
MRS. BARTHWICK. Jack!
JACK. Well, Mother, I – I don't know what you do want.
MRS. BARTHWICK. We want you to speak the truth and say you never let this low man into the house.
BARTHWICK. Of course if you think that you really gave this man whisky in that disgraceful way, and let him see what you'd been doing, and were in such a disgusting condition that you don't remember a word of