Bessie (_Bewildered_). Oh! It's so difficult... What had I better do?...

Harry (_Good-humoured_). Make a clean breast of it.

Bessie (_Wildly to herself_). Impossible! (_Starts_.) You don't
understand. I must think--see--try to--I, I must have time. Plenty of
time.

Harry. What for? Come. Two words. And don't be afraid for yourself. I
ain't going to make it a police job. But it's the other fellow that'll
get upset when he least expects it. There'll be some fun when he shows
his mug here to-morrow. (_Snaps fingers_.) I don't care that for the old
man's dollars, but right is right. You shall see me put a head on that
coon, whoever he is.

Bessie (_Wrings hands slightly_). What had I better do? (_Suddenly to
Harry_.) It's you--you yourself that we--that he's waiting for. It's
_you_ who are to come to-morrow.

Harry (_Slowly_). Oh! it's me! (_Perplexed_.) There's something there
I can't understand. I haven't written ahead or anything. It was my chum
who showed me the advertisement with the old boy's address, this very
morning--in London.

Bessie (_Anxious_). How can I make it plain to you without... (_Bites
her lip, embarrassed_.) Sometimes he talks so strangely.

Harry (_Expectant_). Does he? What about?

Bessie. Only you. And he will stand no contradicting.