OLIVIA: He's acting ... every minute of the time. I know he is! But he's acting pretty well, because I don't know _how_ I know.... He's walking about here all day, and talking a little, and smiling, and smoking cigarettes.... Impenetrable ... that's what it is! What's going on--in his mind? What's he thinking of? (_Vehemently_ ) He _is_ thinking of something! All the time! What is it?

_DAN enters from the front door and smiles broadly at them._

DAN: Anybody seen my lady's pills? It's a matter of life and death.... I thought _I_ had 'em.

_HUBERT chuckles._

OLIVIA (_after a pause, in a level voice_): Oh, yes. They're in the top drawer of the desk. I'm so sorry.

DAN: Thank you.

_He salutes her, goes to the desk, and takes out the pills. They watch him._

MRS. BRAMSON (_off_) Danny!

DAN: Oh, yes, here they are....

HUBERT (_to say something_): Is she feeling off colour again?

DAN (_on his way to the front door_): Off colour? She's never been on it, man! To hear her go on you'd think the only thing left is artificial respiration, And chocolates.... (_Laughing, and calling_) Coming!

_He goes, shutting the front door behind him._

HUBERT: No, really you have to laugh!

OLIVIA: But what you've just seen ... that's exactly what I mean! It's acting! He's not being himself for a minute--it's all put on for our benefit ... don't you see?

HUBERT (_banteringly_): D'you know, I think you're in love with him.

OLIVIA (_with rather more impatience than is necessary_): Don't be ridiculous.

HUBERT: I was only joking.

OLIVIA: He's common and insolent, and I dislike him intensely.

MRS. TERENCE _comes in from the kitchen._

MRS. TERENCE: What'll you 'ave for tea, scones or crumpets? Can't make both.

OLIVIA: What d'_you_ think of Dan?

MRS. TERENCE: Dan? Oh, 'e's all right. Bit of a mystery.

HUBERT: Oh.

MRS. TERENCE (_shutting the kitchen door and coming into the middle of the room_): Terrible liar, o' course. But then a lot of us are. Told me he used to 'unt to 'ounds and 'ave 'is own pack. Before 'e went up in the world and went as a page-boy, I suppose.

OLIVIA (_to_ HUBERT): You see? He wouldn't try that on with us, but couldn't resist it with her.

HUBERT: I wonder how soon the old girl'll get his number?... Oh, but fair play, we're talking about the chap as if he were the most terrible----

MRS. TERENCE: Why, what's 'e done?

HUBERT: Exactly.

OLIVIA: I don't know, but I feel so strongly ... Is Dora there?... (_Calling cautiously_) Dora!

MRS. TERENCE: Oh, she won't know anything. She's as 'alf-witted as she's lazy, and that's sayin' a lot. She'd cut 'er nose off to stop the dust-bin smelling sooner than empty it, she would.

DORA _comes in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron._

DORA: Did somebody say Dora?

OLIVIA: Has Dan said any more about marrying you?

DORA: No. _She_ 'asn't brought it up again, either.

OLIVIA: Does he talk to you at all?

DORA (_perplexed_): Oh ... only how-do-you-do and beg-your-pardon. I've never really spent any time in 'is company, you see. Except, o' course--

HUBERT: Quite. What's your idea of him?

DORA: Oh.... (_Moving to the centre of the room_) 'E's all right. Takes 'is fun where 'e finds it. And leaves it.... Cracks 'imself up, you know. Pretends 'e doesn't care a twopenny, but always got 'is eye on what you're thinking of 'im ... if you know what I mean.

OLIVIA: Yes, I do. That incredible vanity ... they always have it. Always.

HUBERT: Who?

_A pause._

OLIVIA: Murderers.

_A pause. They stare at her._

HUBERT: Good God!...

MRS. TERENCE: D'you mean ... this woman they're looking for?

OLIVIA: I'm sure of it.

MRS. TERENCE: But 'es's such a--such a ordinary boy--

OLIVIA: That's just it--and then he's suddenly so ... extraordinary. I've felt it ever since I heard him sing that song--I told you--

HUBERT: That "mighty-lak-a-rose" thing, you mean? Oh, but it's a pretty well-known one--

OLIVIA: It's more than that. I've kept on saying to myself: No, murder's a thing we read about in the papers; it isn't real life; it can't touch us. ... But it can. And it's here. All round us. In the forest ... in this house. We're ... living with it. (_After a pause, rising decisively_) Bring his luggage in here, will you, Mrs. Terence?

MRS. TERENCE (_staggered_): 'Is luggage? (_Recovering, to_ DORA) Give me a 'and.

_Wide-eyed, she goes into the kitchen, followed by_ DORA.

HUBERT: I say, this is a bit thick, you know--spying--

OLIVIA (_urgently_): We may never have the house to ourselves again.

_She runs to each window and looks out across the forest._ MRS. TERENCE _returns carrying luggage: one large and one small suitcase_. DORA _follows, lugging an old-fashioned thick leather hat-box_. MRS. TERENCE _places the suitcases on the table_; DORA _plants the hat-box in the middle of the floor._

MRS. TERENCE (_in a conspiratorial tone_): This is all.

HUBERT: But look here, we can't do this--

OLIVIA _snaps open the lid of the larger suitcase with a jerk. A pause. They look, almost afraid_. DORA _moves to the back of the table._

MRS. TERENCE (_as_ OLIVIA _lifts it gingerly_): A dirty shirt ...

HUBERT: That's all right.

OLIVIA: A clean pair of socks ... packet of razor-blades ...

HUBERT: We shouldn't be doing this--I feel as if I were at school again--

MRS. TERENCE: Singlet ...

OLIVIA: Half ticket to Shepperley Palais de Danse ...

MRS. TERENCE: Oh, it's a proper 'aunt!

DORA: Oh, 'ere's a pocket-book. With a letter.

(_She gives the letter to_ MRS. TERENCE _and the pocket-book to_ OLIVIA.)

HUBERT: Look here, this is going a bit too far--you can't do this to a chap--

MRS. TERENCE (_taking the letter from the envelope_): Don't be silly, dear, your wife'll do it to you 'undreds of times.... (_Sniffing the note-paper_) Pooh.... (_Reading, as they crane over her shoulder_) "Dear Baby-Face my own ..." Signed Lil....

OLIVIA: What awful writing....