my dear Mr. Dunning! I don't know
much about these things--the expense of manufacturing many thousands of
copies of Mr. Mackworth's new book----!

SIR RANDLE.

[_Alertly._] Quite so! Surely, if we were to be deceived, a simpler
method could have been found----?

ROOPE.

[_With energy._] Besides, what has Mr. Titterton to gain by the
deception?

SIR RANDLE.

True! True! What has _he_ to gain----?

PHILIP.

[_Who is sitting with his hands hanging loosely, utterly
bewildered--rousing himself._] Good God, yes! What has Titterton to
gain by joining me in a blackguardly scheme to--to--to----?

DUNNING.

[_To_ SIR RANDLE _and_ ROOPE.] Well, gentlemen, in the first place,
it's plain that Titterton was too fly to risk being easily blown
upon----

BERTRAM.

He was prepared to prove that the books _have been_ manufactured and
delivered, I mean t'say----

DUNNING.

And in the second place, on the question of expense, the speculation
was a tolerably safe one.

LADY FILSON.

[_Keenly._] Speculation?

DUNNING.

Madarme dee Showmeeay being, according to my instructions--[_to_ LADY
FILSON, _after a glance in_ OTTOLINE_'s direction_] no offence,
ladies--[_to_ SIR RANDLE _and_ ROOPE] Madarme dee Showmeeay being what
is usually termed a catch, Mr. Mackworth would have been in a position,
after his marriage, to reimburse Titterton----

[PHILIP _starts to his feet with a cry of rage._

PHILIP.

Oh----!

ROOPE.

[_Jumping up and hurrying to_ PHILIP_--pacifying him._] My dear
Phil--my _dear_ old chap----

PHILIP.

[_Grasping_ ROOPE_'s arm._] Robbie----!

[SIR RANDLE _rises and goes to_ LADY FILSON. _She also
rises as he approaches her. They gaze at each other with
expressionless faces._

ROOPE.

[_To_ PHILIP.] Where does Titterton live?

PHILIP.

Gordon Square.

ROOPE.

[_Pointing to the telephone._] Telephone--have him round----

PHILIP.

He's not in London.