en introduced by ERNEST up his waistcoat. Every one except the
intruder is immediately self-conscious, and when he withdraws there is a
general sigh of relief. They pounce on the new papers. ERNEST evidently
gets a shock from one, which he casts contemptuously on the floor.)

AGATHA (more fortunate). Father, see page 81. 'It was a tiger-cat,' says
Mr. Woolley, 'of the largest size. Death stared Lord Loam in the face,
but he never flinched.'

LORD LOAM (searching his book eagerly). Page 81.

AGATHA. 'With presence of mind only equalled by his courage, he fixed an
arrow in his bow.'

LORD LOAM. Thank you, Ernest; thank you, my boy.

AGATHA. 'Unfortunately he missed.'

LORD LOAM. Eh?

AGATHA. 'But by great good luck I heard his cries'--

LORD LOAM. My cries?

AGATHA.--'and rushing forward with drawn knife, I stabbed the monster to
the heart.'

(LORD LOAM shuts his book with a pettish slam. There might be a scene
here were it not that CRICHTON reappears and goes to one of the glass
cases. All are at once on the alert and his lordship is particularly
sly.)

LORD LOAM. Anything in the papers, Catherine?

CATHERINE. No, father, nothing--nothing at all.

ERNEST (it pops out as of yore). The papers! The papers are guides that
tell us what we ought to do, and then we don't do it.

(CRICHTON having opened the glass case has taken out the bucket, and
ERNEST, looking round for applause, sees him carrying it off and is
undone. For a moment of time he forgets that he is no longer on the
island, and with a sigh he is about to follow CRICHTON and the bucket to
a retired spot. The door closes, and ERNEST comes to himself.)

LORD LOAM (uncomfortably). I told him to take it away.

ERNEST. I thought--(he wipes his brow)--I shall go and dress. (He goes.)

CATHERINE. Father, it's awful having Crichton here. It's like living on
tiptoe.

LORD LOAM (gloomily). While he is here we are sitting on a volcano.

AGATHA. How mean of you! I am sure he has only stayed on with us to--to
help us through. It would have looked so suspicious if he had gone at
once.

CATHERINE (revelling in the worst) But suppose Lady Brocklehurst were
to get at him and pump him. She's the most terrifying, suspicious old
creature in England; and Crichton simply can't tell a lie.

LORD LOAM. My dear, that is the volcano to which I was referring. (He
has evidently something to communicate.) It's all Mary's fault. She said
to me yesterday that she would