rotting bones. It’s just the sort of thing for rotting bones, isn’t it?
Raglan. Yes—it is, isn’t it?
Leila. Yes, it is.
Brandon. My dear—you’re right. I wouldn’t let you see the inside of that chest for worlds.
Leila. I’m sure you wouldn’t.
[Granillo, again noticeably, walks back to his seat, R.
And it’s all very well to try and bluff me out and pretend you’re willing to let me see———
Brandon. But, my dear—that’s just what I said I wouldn’t do.
Leila. I have my suspicions.
Sir Johnstone. But surely your murderer, having chopped up and concealed his victim in a chest—wouldn’t ask all his friends round to come and eat off it.
Rupert (slowly). Not unless he was a very stupid, and very conceited murderer.
Sir Johnstone. Very stupid, and very conceited.
Rupert. Which, of course, he might be.
Leila. In fact, it’s exactly what all criminals are!
Brandon. Oh no, I don’t think so. . . .
[There is another pause.
Leila. Talking of murderers—have you seen that new thing on at the New Gallery?
Raglan. Yes, I saw that. Isn’t it good?
Leila. Yes. Isn’t it good? I didn’t like her, though, much—the woman—I didn’t think she was much good.
Raglan. No, she wasn’t much good. That other film was good, though, wasn’t it?
Leila. Yes. Wasn’t it good?
Raglan. Yes, it was good, wasn’t it?
Rupert. The Lord look down upon us. We have fallen amongst fans.
Leila. Of course, the man I’ve got a passion for is Jack Holt.
[ 34 ]
