rd "Russia" he
pauses abruptly as if startled by a sudden thought and slowly repeats.]

"In business in Russia!"

[He rises.]

LADY CREECH. This is beside the point entirely!

PIKE. It _is_ the point! Now, between us, ain't Jim right? Ain't it the
truth?

LADY CREECH [angry and agitated]. Since some of your vulgar American
officials have been spying about--

PIKE [with controlled excitement]. Your brother-in-law was in business
in Russia; so far, so good.

[Leans upon back of chair watching her, eager, but smiling cordially.]

I don't say he was peddling shoe-strings on the corner or selling
weinerwursts--

[LADY CREECH gives a slight scream of indignation.]

PIKE [continuing]. Probably something more hifalutin' and dignified than
that. He was probably agent for a wooden butter-dish factory.

LADY CREECH [enraged]. He had contracts with the Russian government
itself!

PIKE (staggering back, recovers himself immediately, and, speaking
sharply, but in a voice of great agitation). _Not_ for mining--_not_ for
hydraulic machines!

LADY CREECH. And even so he protected the historic name of St. Aubyn.

PIKE. By God, I believe you!

LADY CREECH. Don't mumble your words!

PIKE. Had he ever lived at Glenwood Priory?

LADY CREECH [indignantly]. Is your mind wandering? The priory belonged
to Hawcastle's mother. Can you state its connection with the subject?

PIKE. That's how he protected the historic name of St. Aubyn! That's the
name he took--Glenwood!

LADY CREECH. What of that?

PIKE [awe-struck]. God moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform!

LADY CREECH. Oblige me by omitting blasphemous allusions in my
presence. What answer are you prepared to make to Lord Hawcastle?

PIKE [in a ringing voice]. Tell your brother-in-law that he can have my
answer in ten minutes--and he can come to me _here_ for it! I'll give it
in the presence of the young lady and her brother.

LADY CREECH [turning to go]. Her brother--certainly! He is in perfect
sympathy with our attitude. As for Miss Granger-Simpson's knowing
anything of this most disagreeable affair--no!

PIKE. I beg your pardon.

LADY CREECH. I shall not permit her to come near here. As her chaperone
I refuse. We all refuse!

PIKE. All right; refuse away.

LADY CREECH. I shall tell Lord Hawcastle--

PIKE. Ten minutes from now and in this room.

LADY CREECH. But Miss Granger-Simpson under no condition whatever.

[Sweeps out haughtily.]

[PI