ROOPE.

Not----?

PHILIP.

He's gone to the Riviera--left this morning. [_Crossing to_ SIR RANDLE
_and_ LADY FILSON_--appealingly._] Lady Filson--Sir Randle--_you_ don't
believe that Titterton and I could be guilty of such an arrant piece of
knavery, do you? Ho, ho, ho! It's preposterous.

SIR RANDLE.

[_Constrainedly._] Frankly--I must be frank--I hardly know _what_ to
believe.

LADY FILSON.

[_Pursing her mouth._] We--we hardly know _what_ to believe.

PHILIP.

[_Leaving them._] Ah----!

ROOPE.

[_Who has dropped into the chair by the smoking-table--to_ SIR RANDLE.]
Sir Randle--dear excellent friend--let us meet Mr. Dunning to-morrow at
Messrs. Hopwood's in Carmichael Lane--we three--you and I and
Mackworth----

PHILIP.

[_Pacing up and down between the table on the left and the bookcase._]
Yes, yes--before I wire to Titterton--or see Curtis, his manager----

ROOPE.

[_Over his shoulder, to_ DUNNING.] Hey, Mr. Dunning?

DUNNING.

Pleasure.

[_While this has been going on,_ DUNNING _has put his
note-book away and risen, gathering up his hat and
overcoat as he does so._ BERTRAM _is now assisting him
into his coat._

SIR RANDLE.

[_Advancing a step or two._] At what hour----?

DUNNING.

[_Briskly._] Ten-thirty suit you, gentlemen?

SIR RANDLE, PHILIP, _and_ ROOPE.

[_Together._] Half-past-ten.

ROOPE.

[_Scribbling with a pocket-pencil on his shirt-cuff._] 6, Carmichael
Lane, Walbrook----

DUNNING.

[_Pulling down his under-coat._] I'll be there.

ROOPE.

[_Lowering his hands suddenly and leaning back in his chair, as if
about to administer a poser._] By the way, Mr. Dunning, you tell us you
have a strong conviction that Messrs. Hopwood & Co. are a myth, and
their offices a sham--[_caustically_] may I ask whether you've tried to
ascertain who _is_ the actual tenant of the room and cellar in
Carmichael Lane?

BERTRAM.

[_Sniggering._] Why, Titterton, o