my dear Mr. Dunning! I don't know
much about these things--the expense of manufacturing many thousands of
copies of Mr. Mackworth's new book----!
SIR RANDLE.
[_Alertly._] Quite so! Surely, if we were to be deceived, a simpler
method could have been found----?
ROOPE.
[_With energy._] Besides, what has Mr. Titterton to gain by the
deception?
SIR RANDLE.
True! True! What has _he_ to gain----?
PHILIP.
[_Who is sitting with his hands hanging loosely, utterly
bewildered--rousing himself._] Good God, yes! What has Titterton to
gain by joining me in a blackguardly scheme to--to--to----?
DUNNING.
[_To_ SIR RANDLE _and_ ROOPE.] Well, gentlemen, in the first place,
it's plain that Titterton was too fly to risk being easily blown
upon----
BERTRAM.
He was prepared to prove that the books _have been_ manufactured and
delivered, I mean t'say----
DUNNING.
And in the second place, on the question of expense, the speculation
was a tolerably safe one.
LADY FILSON.
[_Keenly._] Speculation?
DUNNING.
Madarme dee Showmeeay being, according to my instructions--[_to_ LADY
FILSON, _after a glance in_ OTTOLINE_'s direction_] no offence,
ladies--[_to_ SIR RANDLE _and_ ROOPE] Madarme dee Showmeeay being what
is usually termed a catch, Mr. Mackworth would have been in a position,
after his marriage, to reimburse Titterton----
[PHILIP _starts to his feet with a cry of rage._
PHILIP.
Oh----!
ROOPE.
[_Jumping up and hurrying to_ PHILIP_--pacifying him._] My dear
Phil--my _dear_ old chap----
PHILIP.
[_Grasping_ ROOPE_'s arm._] Robbie----!
[SIR RANDLE _rises and goes to_ LADY FILSON. _She also
rises as he approaches her. They gaze at each other with
expressionless faces._
ROOPE.
[_To_ PHILIP.] Where does Titterton live?
PHILIP.
Gordon Square.
ROOPE.
[_Pointing to the telephone._] Telephone--have him round----
PHILIP.
He's not in London.
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