the gleam of light CLARE is
standing, unhooking a necklet.

He goes in, shutting the door behind him with a thud.

CURTAIN.

ACT II

The scene is a large, whitewashed, disordered room, whose outer
door opens on to a corridor and stairway. Doors on either side
lead to other rooms. On the walls are unframed reproductions of
fine pictures, secured with tintacks. An old wine-coloured
armchair of low and comfortable appearance, near the centre of
the room, is surrounded by a litter of manuscripts, books, ink,
pens and newspapers, as though some one had already been up to
his neck in labour, though by a grandfather's clock it is only
eleven. On a smallish table close by, are sheets of paper,
cigarette ends, and two claret bottles. There are many books on
shelves, and on the floor, an overflowing pile, whereon rests a
soft hat, and a black knobby stick. MALISE sits in his
armchair, garbed in trousers, dressing-gown, and slippers,
unshaved and uncollared, writing. He pauses, smiles, lights a
cigarette, and tries the rhythm of the last sentence, holding up
a sheet of quarto MS.

MALISE. "Not a word, not a whisper of Liberty from all those
excellent frock-coated gentlemen--not a sign, not a grimace. Only
the monumental silence of their profound deference before triumphant
Tyranny."

While he speaks, a substantial woman, a little over middle-age,
in old dark clothes and a black straw hat, enters from the
corridor. She goes to a cupboard, brings out from it an apron
and a Bissell broom. Her movements are slow and imperturbable,
as if she had much time before her. Her face is broad and dark,
with Chinese eyebrows.

MALISE. Wait, Mrs. Miller!

MRS. MILER. I'm gettin' be'ind'and, sir.

She comes and stands before him. MALISE writes.

MRS. MILER. There's a man 'angin' about below.

MALISE looks up; seeing that she has roused his attention, she
stops. But as soon as he is about to write again, goes on.

MRS. MILER. I see him first yesterday afternoon. I'd just been out
to get meself a pennyworth o' soda, an' as I come in I passed 'im on
the second floor, lookin' at me with an air of suspicion. I thought
to meself at the time, I thought: You're a'andy sort of 'ang-dog man.

MALISE. Well?

MRS. MILER. Well-peekin' down through