HAYWOOD reappears.

MALISE. Yes, Mr. Haywood?

HAYWOOD. About that little matter, sir. If--if it's any convenience
to you--I've--thought of a place where I could----

MALISE. Read them? You'll enjoy them thoroughly.

HAYWOOD. No, sir, no! Where I can dispose of them.

MALISE. [Holding out the volumes] It might be as well. [HAYWOOD
takes the books gingerly] I congratulate you, Mr. Haywood; it's a
classic.

HAYWOOD. Oh, indeed--yes, sir. In the event of there being any----

MALISE. Anything over? Carry it to my credit. Your bill--[He
hands over the blue paper] Send me the receipt. Good evening!

HAYWOOD, nonplussed, and trying to hide the books in an evening
paper, fumbles out. "Good evenin', sir!" and departs. MALISE
again takes up the sheets of MS. and cons a sentence over to
himself, gazing blankly at the stolid BOY.

MALISE. "Man of the world--good form your god! Poor buttoned-up
philosopher" [the Boy shifts his feet] "inbred to the point of
cretinism, and founded to the bone on fear of ridicule [the Boy
breathes heavily]--you are the slave of facts!"

[There is a knock on the door]

MALISE. Who is it?

The door is pushed open, and REGINALD HUNTINGDON stands there.

HUNTINGDON. I apologize, sir; can I come in a minute?

[MALISE bows with ironical hostility]

HUNTINGDON. I don't know if you remember me--Clare Dedmond's
brother.

MALISE. I remember you.

[He motions to the stolid Boy to go outside again]

HUNTINGDON. I've come to you, sir, as a gentleman----

MALISE. Some mistake. There is one, I believe, on the first floor.

HUNTINGDON. It's about my sister.

MALISE. D--n you! Don't you know that I've been shadowed these last
three months? Ask your detectives for any information you want.

HUNTINGDON. We know that you haven't seen her, or even known where
she is.

MALISE. Indeed! You've found that out? Brilliant!

HUNTINGDON. We know it from my sister.

MALISE. Oh! So you've tracked her down?

HUNTINGDON. Mrs. Fullarton came across her yesterday in one of those
big shops--selling gloves.

MALISE. Mrs. Fullarton the lady with the husband. Well! you've got
her. Clap her back into prison.

HUNTINGDON. We have not got her. She left at once, and we don't
know where she's gone.

MALISE. Bravo!

HUNTINGDON. [Taking hold of his bit] Look here, Mr. Malise, in a
way I share your feeling, but I'm fo