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LADY FILSON.
So--so everything--everything that your brother and Mr.--Mr. Dunning have surmised----?
OTTOLINE.
Everything, mother--except that I am the culprit, and Mr. Mackworth is the victim.
LADY FILSON.
Ottoline----!
OTTOLINE.
[_Pa.s.sing her hand over her brow._] It--it's horrible of me to give t.i.tterton away--but--what can I do?--[_She turns her back upon them sharply and, leaning against the table, searches for her handkerchief._] Oh! Need Mr. Dunning stay----?
[BERTRAM, _aghast, nudges_ DUNNING _and hurries to the vestibule door._ DUNNING _follows him into the vestibule on tiptoe. Slowly and deliberately_ PHILIP _moves to the middle of the room and stands there with his hands clenched, glaring into s.p.a.ce._ SIR RANDLE, _his jaw falling, sits in the chair on the extreme left._
LADY FILSON.
[_Touching_ PHILIP_'s arm sympathetically._] Oh, Philip----!
DUNNING.
[_To_ BERTRAM, _in a whisper._] Phiou! Rummy development this, Mr.
Filson!
BERTRAM.
[_To_ DUNNING, _in the same way._] Awful. [_Opening the outer door._]
I--I'll see you in the m-m-morning.
DUNNING.
Pleasure. [_Raising his voice._] Evening, ladies and gentlemen.
LADY FILSON.
[_Again sitting on the settee on the left, also searching for her handkerchief._] G-g-good night.
SIR RANDLE.
[_Weakly._] Good night.
ROOPE.
[_Who has wandered to the bookcase like a man in a trance._] Good night.
[DUNNING _disappears, and_ BERTRAM _closes the outer door and comes back into the room. Shutting the vestibule door, he sinks into the chair lately vacated by_ DUNNING. _There is a silence, broken at length by a low, grating laugh from_ PHILIP.
PHILIP.
Ha, ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha----!
LADY FILSON.
[_Dolefully._] Oh, Ottoline--Ottoline----!
PHILIP.
Ha, ha, ha----!
OTTOLINE.
[_Creeping to the nearer end of the writing-table._] H'ss.h.!.+ H'ss.h.!.+
Philip--Philip----!
PHILIP.
[_Loudly._] Ho, ho, ho----!
OTTOLINE.
Don't! don't! [_Making a movement of entreaty towards him._]
Phil--Phil----!
[_His laughter ceases abruptly and he looks her full in the face._
PHILIP.
[_After a moment's pause, bitingly._] Thank you--thank you--[_turning from her and seating himself in the chair by the smoking-table and resting his chin on his fist_] thank you.
[_Again there is a pause, and then_ OTTOLINE _draws herself up proudly and moves in a stately fas.h.i.+on towards the vestibule door._
OTTOLINE.
[_At_ BERTRAM_'s side._] Bertram--my cloak----
[BERTRAM _rises meekly and fetches her cloak._
SIR RANDLE.
[_Getting to his feet and approaching_ PHILIP_--mournfully._] Your mother's wrap, also, Bertram.
LADY FILSON.
[_Rising._] Yes, let us all go home.
SIR RANDLE.
