JOHN.

[_Taking_ BERTRAM's _hat, overcoat, etc._] I'll tell Mr. Mackworth,
sir. He's dressin'.

[JOHN, _eyeing_ BERTRAM _wonderingly, goes to the door
of the bedroom_. _There, having switched on the light of
another lamp, he knocks._

PHILIP.

[_From the bedroom._] Yes?

JOHN.

[_Opening the door a few inches._] Mr. Filson, sir.

PHILIP.

[_Calling out._] Hallo, Bertram!

JOHN.

Mr. Filson wants to speak to you, sir.

PHILIP.

I'll be with him in ten seconds. Leave the door open.

JOHN.

Yessir.

[JOHN _withdraws, carrying_ BERTRAM's _outdoor things
into the vestibule and shutting the vestibule door_.

PHILIP.

[_Calling to_ BERTRAM _again_.] I'm in the throes of tying a bow, old
man. Sit down. [BERTRAM, _glaring at the bedroom door, remains
standing_.] O'ho, that's fine! Ha, ha, ha! I warn you, I'm an
overpowering swell to-night. A new suit of clothes, Bertram, devised
and executed in less than thirty-six hours! And a fit, sir; every item
of it! You'll be green with envy when you see this coat. I'm ready for
you. Handkerchief--? [_Shouting._] John--! Oh, here it is! [_Switching
off the light in the bedroom and appearing, immaculately dressed, in
the doorway._] Behold! [_Closing the door and advancing to_ BERTRAM.]
How are you, Bertram? [BERTRAM _refuses_ PHILIP's _hand by putting his
own behind his back_. PHILIP _raises his eyebrows_.] Oh? [_A pause._]
Anything amiss? [_Observing_ BERTRAM's _heated look_.] You don't look
well, Filson.

BERTRAM.

[_Breathing heavily._] No, I'm not well--I mean t'say, I'm sick with
indignation----

PHILIP.

What about?

BERTRAM.

You've attempted to play us all a rascally trick, Mackworth; a low,
scurvy, contemptible----

PHILIP.

[_Frowning._] A trick?

BERTRAM.

I've just come from Mr. Dunning--a man I've thought it my duty to
employ in the interests of my family--Sillitoe and Dunning, the
private-inquiry people----

PHILIP.

Private-inquiry people?