e was hanging on to him--to h-help me. [Again he
wrings his hands.]

KEITH. [In a hard, dry voice] What did you do then?

LARRY. We--we sat by it a long time.

KEITH. Well?

LARRY. Then I carried it on my back down the street, round a corner,
to an archway.

KEITH. How far?

LARRY. About fifty yards.

KEITH. Was--did anyone see?

LARRY. No.

KEITH. What time?

LARRY. Three in the morning.

KEITH. And then?

LARRY. Went back to her.

KEITH. Why--in heaven's name?

LARRY. She way lonely and afraid. So was I, Keith.

KEITH. Where is this place?

LARRY. Forty-two Borrow Square, Soho.

KEITH. And the archway?

LARRY. Corner of Glove Lane.

KEITH. Good God! Why, I saw it in the paper this morning. They
were talking of it in the Courts! [He snatches the evening paper
from his armchair, and runs it over anal reads] Here it is again.
"Body of a man was found this morning under an archway in Glove Lane.
From marks about the throat grave suspicion of foul play are
entertained. The body had apparently been robbed." My God!
[Suddenly he turns] You saw this in the paper and dreamed it.
D'you understand, Larry?--you dreamed it.

LARRY. [Wistfully] If only I had, Keith!

[KEITH makes a movement of his hands almost like his brother's.]

KEITH. Did you take anything from the-body?

LARRY. [Drawing au envelope from his pocket] This dropped out while
we were struggling.

KEITH. [Snatching it and reading] "Patrick Walenn"--Was that his
name? "Simon's Hotel, Farrier Street, London." [Stooping, he puts it
in the fire] No!--that makes me----[He bends to pluck it out, stays
his hand, and stamps it suddenly further in with his foot] What in
God's name made you come here and tell me? Don't you know I'm--I'm
within an ace of a Judgeship?

LARRY. [Simply] Yes. You must know what I ought to do. I didn't,
mean to kill him, Keith. I love the girl--I love her. What shall I
do?

KEITH. Love!

LARRY. [In a flash] Love!--That swinish brute! A million creatures
die every day, and not one of them deserves death as he did. But but
I feel it here. [Touching his heart] Such an awful clutch, Keith.
Help me if you can, old man. I may be no good, but I've never hurt a
fly if I could help it. [He buries his face in his hands.]

KEITH. Steady, Larry! Let's think it out. You weren't seen, you
say?

LARRY. It's a dark place, and dead night.

KEITH. When did you