WILLIAM. Very sorry, Mr. Martin, but this is the first time I've accepted
an engagement at a stockbroker's. [_He has been crawling round the
curtains at the back, shaking them; pulling hard at one of them he
dislodges the lower part._] Lor! _Now_ I've done it!
SMITHERS. Clumsy!
MARTIN. [_Severely._] That comes of too much talk Never mind the
curtain--go on looking.
[WILLIAM _drops on to his hands and knees again;_ HARVEY WESTERN
_comes into the room, perturbed and restless. He is a
well-preserved man of fifty._
HARVEY. I say--not found it?
MARTIN. Not yet, sir.
HARVEY. Nuisance. _Must_ be here, you know.
MARTIN. Is it a very valuable one, sir?
HARVEY. [_Who has gone to the table, and is turning things over._] No, no,
not particularly--but that's not the point. [_He looks under the table._
MARTIN. [_Still seeking._] When did madam find that she'd lost it, sir?
HARVEY. Oh, about five minutes after we'd started And we've turned over
everything in the car. It's certainly not there. [_He fusses around the
table._
MARTIN. Is madam quite sure she was wearing it, sir?
SMITHERS. [_Fretfully._] Yes, yes, of course she was wearing it. I put it
on her myself.
MARTIN. Where did madam put her cloak on, sir?
SMITHERS. In here. I brought it in.