[_They are all searching furiously_--WILLIAM _by the windows,
peering into the spaces between the wall and the carpets,_ MARTIN
_at the sideboard,_ SMITHERS _gathering the rugs together, all on
their hands and knees, while_ HARVEY, _bent double, is looking
under the table._ MRS. WESTERN _comes in stonily, followed by
the_ JUDGE _and_ MRS. BANKET. MRS. WESTERN _is a handsome woman
of forty-five, with a rather stern, cold face; the_ JUDGE, _a
somewhat corpulent, genial man of fifty-five; and his wife, an
amiable nullity, seven or eight years younger. They are all in
evening-dress, the ladies in opera-cloaks._
MRS. WESTERN. [_Pausing on the threshold._] Well!
HARVEY. [_Rising and dusting himself._] No trace of it.
MRS. WESTERN. [_Looking around._] A nice mess you've made of the room!
MARTIN. You told us to look, Madam.
JUDGE. [_Going to the fire and standing with his back to it._] I'm afraid
we'll be shockingly late, Alice.
MRS. WESTERN. [_Firmly._] I don't go without my bracelet.
[_She goes to the table, and proceeds to shift the cups and
glasses._
MRS. BANKET. [_Moving to the other side of the table, and doing the
same._] Quite right, dear--I wouldn't.
[_They all search, except the_ JUDGE, _who shrugs his shoulders
placidly, then takes a cigarette from his case, and lights it.
The three servants still are grovelling on the floor._