Mabel passes him, and goes into the bedroom, Left. Dancy, left alone, stands quite still, staring before him. With a sudden shrug of his shoulders he moves quickly to his hat and takes it up just as Mabel returns, ready to go out. He opens the door; and crossing him, she stops in the doorway, looking up with a clear and trustful gaze as
The curtain falls.
Three months later. Old Mr Jacob TWISDEN’s Room, at the offices of Twisden & Graviter, in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, is spacious, with two large windows at back, a fine old fireplace, Right, a door below it, and two doors, Left. Between the windows is a large table sideways to the window wall, with a chair in the middle on the right-hand side, a chair against the wall, and a client’s chair on the left-hand side.
Graviter, Twisden’s much younger partner, is standing in front of the right-hand window looking out on to the Fields, where the lamps are being lighted, and a taxi’s engine is running down below. He turns his sanguine, shrewd face from the window towards a grandfather dock, between the doors, Left, which is striking “four.” The door, Left Forward, is opened.
Young clerk. [Entering] A Mr Gilman, sir, to see Mr Twisden.
Graviter. By appointment?
Young clerk. No, sir. But important, he says.
Graviter. I’ll see him.
The clerk goes. Graviter sits right of table. The clerk returns, ushering in an oldish man, who looks what he is, the proprietor of a large modern grocery store. He wears a dark overcoat and carries a pot hat. His gingery-grey moustache and mutton-chop whiskers give him the expression of a cat.
Graviter. [Sizing up his social standing] Mr Gilman? Yes.
Gilman. [Doubtfully] Mr Jacob Twisden?
Graviter. [Smiling] His partner. Graviter my name is.
Gilman. Mr Twisden’s not in, then?
Graviter. No. He’s at the Courts. They’re just up; he should be in directly. But he’ll be busy.
Gilman. Old Mr Jacob Twisden—I’ve heard of him.
Graviter. Most people have.
Gilman. It’s this Dancy-De Levis
case that’s keepin’ him at the Courts,
Won’t be finished for a day or two?
Graviter shakes his head. No.
Astonishin’ the interest taken in it.
Graviter. As you say.
Gilman. The Smart Set, eh? This Captain Dancy got the D.S.O., didn’t he?
Sad to have a thing like that said about you. I thought he gave his evidence well; and his wife too. Looks as if this De Levis had got some private spite. Searchy la femme, I said to Mrs Gilman only this morning, before I—