_ Sir POSH.) You, Papa?

_Sir Posh._ What, VERBENA, sitting with, hem--SAMUEL in the gloaming?
(_Sings, with forced hilarity._) "In the gloaming, oh, my darling!"
that's as it should be--quite as it should be!

_Verb. (in dull strained accents)._ Don't sing, Papa, I cannot bear
it--just yet. I have just suffocated Mr. SPIKER with a sofa-cushion.
See! [_Shows the body._

_Sir Posh._ Then I am safe--he will tell no tales now! But, my child,
are you aware of the very serious nature of your act? An act of
which, as a Justice of the Peace, I am bound to take some official
cognizance!

_Verb._ Do not scold me, Papa. Was it not done for _your_ sake?

_Sir P._ I cannot accept such an excuse as that. I fear your motives
were less disinterested than you would have me believe. And now,
VERBENA, what will _you_ do? As your father, I would gladly screen
you--but, as a Magistrate, I cannot promise to be more than passive.

_Verb._ Listen, Papa. I have thought of a plan--why should I not wheel
this sofa to the head of the front-door steps, and tip it over? They
will only think he fell down when intoxicated--for he _had_ taken far
too much wine, Papa!

_Sir P._ Always the same quick-witted little fairy! Go, my child, but
be careful that none of the servants see you. (VERB. _wheels the sofa
and_ SPIKER'S _body out_, L.U.E.) My poor impulsive darling, I do hope
she will not be seen--servants do make such mischief! But there's
an end of SPIKER, at any rate. I should _not_ have liked him for a
son-in-law, and with him, goes the only person who knows my unhappy
secret!

_Enter_ BLETHERS.

_Blethers._ Sir POSHBURY, I have a secret to reveal which I can
preserve no longer--it concerns something that happened many years
ago--it is connected with your _birthday_, Sir POSHBURY.

_Sir P. (quailing)._ What, _another_! I must stop _his_ tongue at all
hazards. Ha, the rotten sash-line! (_To_ BL.) I will hear you, but
first close yonder window, the night air is growing chill.

[BLETHERS _goes to window at back. Slow music. As he approaches it_,
LORD BLESHUGH _enters_ (R 2 E), _and, with a smothered cry of horror,
drags him back by the coat-tails--just before the window falls with a
tremendous crash_.

_Sir P._ BLESHUGH! What have you done?

_Lord Blesh. (sternly)._ Saved _him_ from an untimely end--and _you_
from--crime.

[_Collapse of_ Sir P. _Enter_ VERBENA, _terrified._

_Verb._ Papa, Papa, hide me! The night-air and the co