Chapter 3

_An afternoon twelve days later. The weather is a little duller._

MRS. BRAMSON _is sitting on the right of the table in her invalid chair, puzzling out a game of patience. She has smartened up her appearance in the interval and is wearing purple, and earrings._ OLIVIA _is sitting opposite her, smoking a cigarette, a pencil and pad on the table in front of her; she is pondering and writing. A portable gramophone on a small table next the desk is playing the H.M.V. dance record of "Dames."

A pause_. MRS. BRAMSON _coughs. She coughs again, and looks at_ OLIVIA, _waving her hand before her, clearing away billows of imaginary smoke_.

OLIVIA: I'm sorry. Is my cigarette worrying you?

MRS. BRAMSON (_temper_): Not at all. I like it!

OLIVIA _stubs out her cigarette with a resigned look and goes on making notes_. DAN _enters from the kitchen, keeping time to the music, carrying a bunch of roses, wearing overalls over flannel trousers and a brown golf jacket, and smoking. He goes to the fireplace and clumps the roses into a vase on the mantelpiece, humming the tune. He crosses to the gramophone, still in rhythm,_ MRS. BRAMSON _keeping time skittishly with her hands. He turns off the gramophone and looks over_ OLIVIA'S _shoulder at what she is writing._

DAN (_singing_): "Their home addresses ... and their caresses ... linger in my memory of ... those beautiful dames" ... (_His hand to his forehead_) That's me!

OLIVIA _looks at him coldly and continues her notes._

MRS. BRAMSON: It won't come out....

DAN _shrugs his shoulders, stands behind_ MRS. BRAMSON'S _chair, and studies her play._ OLIVIA _follows his example from her side._

OLIVIA (_pointing to two cards_): Look.

MRS. BRAMSON (_infuriated_): I saw that! Leave me alone, and don't interfere.

_A pause._ DAN _makes a quick movement and puts one card on another.

(Pleased and interested, quite unconscious to the difference in her attitude_) Oh, yes, dear, of course....

OLIVIA (_as_ MRS. BRAMSON _makes a move_): No, that's a spade.

MRS. BRAMSON (_sharply_): No such thing; it's a club. It's got a wiggle on it.

DAN: They both got wiggles on 'em. (_Pointing to another card_) This is a club.

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh yes, dear, so it is! OLIVIA (_writing_): The ironmonger says there _were_ two extra gallons of paraffin not paid for.

MRS. BRAMSON: And they _won't_ be paid for either--not if I have to go to law about it.

_A pause. She coughs absently_.

DAN: I'm sorry. Is my cigarette worrying you?

MRS. BRAMSON: No, no, dear.

_This has its effect on_ OLIVIA. DAN _sits on the left of the table, where "East Lynne" is open on the table_.

I'm sick of patience.

DAN (_reading laboriously_): "You old-fashioned child--"

MRS. BRAMSON: What?

DAN: _East Lynne_.

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh....

DAN (_reading_): "'You old-fashioned child!' retorted Mrs. Vane. 'Why did you not put on your diamonds?' 'I-did-put on my diamonds,' stammered Lady Isabel. 'But I--took them off again.' 'What on earth for?'" That's the other lady speaking there--

MRS. BRAMSON: Yes, dear....

DAN: "'What on earth for?' ... 'I did not like to be too fine,' answered Lady Isabel, with a laugh--" (_turning over_) "--and a blush. 'They glittered so! I feared it might be thought I had put them on to look fine.'"

MRS. BRAMSON (_absently_): Good, isn't it?

DAN (_flicking ash_): Oh, yes, reelistic.... (_Reading_) "'I see you mean to set up among that class of people who pree-tend to dee-spise ornyment,' scornfully ree-marked Mrs. Vane. 'It is the ree-finement of aff-affectation, Lady Isabel----'"

_An excited knock at the kitchen door._ DORA _enters._ DAN _turns back the page and surveys what he has been reading, scratching his head._

MRS. BRAMSON (_the old edge to her voice_): What is it?

DORA: Them men's in the wood again.

MRS. BRAMSON: What men?

DORA: The men lookin' for that Mrs. Chalfont.

_A pause._ DAN _hums "Dames" under his breath._

MRS. BRAMSON: You don't mean to tell me they're still at it? But they've been pottering about since ... when was that day Mr. Dan left the Tallboys?

DORA (_stressing a little bitterly_): _Mister_ Dan?

DAN (_smiling_): Ahem!...

DORA: _Mister_ Dan first came to work for you, mum, a week last Monday....

MRS. BRAMSON: Well, I think it's a disgrace----

DORA: _I_'ve found something!

DAN'S _humming stops abruptly; he swivels round and looks at_ DORA, _his face unseen by the audience._ OLIVIA _and_ MRS. BRAMSON _stare at_ DORA; _a pause._

MRS. BRAMSON: _You've_ found something?

OLIVIA: What?

DORA (_excited_): This!

_She holds out her left arm and lets jail from her fist the length of a soiled belt. A pause._ OLIVIA _puts down her pencil and pad, goes to her, and looks at the belt._

OLIVIA: Yes, of course, it's mine! I missed it last week....

MRS. BRAMSON (_baulked of excitement_): Oh yes, I thought I recognised it.... What nonsense!...

DAN _looks at her; chuckling._

DORA (_going, dolefully_): I'm ever so disappointed....

_She goes into the kitchen._ OLIVIA _goes to the armchair by the fireplace._

MRS. BRAMSON: She'll be joining Scotland Yard next.... Go on, dear.

DAN (_reading_): "'It is the ree-finement of affectation, Lady Isabel----'"

_The clock chimes.

(Clapping his hands, to_ MRS. BRAMSON) Ah!

MRS. BRAMSON (_pleased_): Oh, Danny ...

_He hurries to the medicine cupboard and pours medicine into a spoon._ HUBERT _comes in from the front door._

HUBERT (_eagerly_): Have you heard?

MRS. BRAMSON (_eagerly_): What?

HUBERT: Dora's found a belt!

MRS. BRAMSON (_disappointed again_): Oh ... it was Olivia's.

HUBERT: I say, what a shame!...

MRS. BRAMSON: Tch, tch!... All this sensation-mong----

DAN _drowns her speech by deftly pouring the spoonful of medicine down her throat. He pushes her chocolate-box towards her, and strides briskly into the hall._

Horrid....

DAN (_taking a soft hat from the rack and putting it on_): Good for you, though, the way you are....

MRS. BRAMSON: Yes, dear.

DAN (_coming into the room, and beginning to take off his overalls_): And now it's time for your walk.... (_Smiling at_ OLIVIA) It's all right, I got trousers on.... (_Peeling the overalls over his feet, and tossing them on to the left window-seat_) Listen to me talking about your walk, when you'll be in a chair all the time.... (_Chuckling, to_ HUBERT) That's funny, isn't it!... (_Going to_ MRS. BRAMSON) Come on, I got your shawl and your rug in the hall....

MRS. BRAMSON (_as he wheels her into the hall_): Have you got my pills?

DAN: I got them in my pocket.

MRS. BRAMSON: And my chocolates?

DAN: I got them in my pocket too. Here's your hat--better put it on yourself.

MRS. BRAMSON: Yes, dear.

DAN: And here's your shawl.

MRS. BRAMSON: It isn't a shawl, it's a cape.

DAN: Well, I don't know, do I? And I carry your rug on my shoulder.... (_To the others_) See you later! Be good!

_Shutting the front door, his voice dying as the chair passes the left window._

Down this way to-day....

_A pause. HUBERT and OLIVIA look at each other._

OLIVIA (_suddenly_): What do _you_ think of him?

HUBERT (_a little taken aback_): Him? Grannie's white-headed boy, you mean? Oh, he's all right. (_Heavily_.) A bit slow on the uptake, of course. I wish he'd occasionally take that fag-end out of his mouth.

OLIVIA: He does. For _her_.

HUBERT: That's true. That's why he's made such a hit with her. Funny I haven't been able to manage it. In two weeks, too ... it's uncanny.

OLIVIA: Uncanny?... I think it's clever.

HUBERT: You don't think he's a wrong 'un, do you?

OLIVIA: What do we know about him?

HUBERT: Why ... his Christian name?

OLIVIA: And that's all.

HUBERT: He looks pretty honest.

OLIVIA: Looks? (_After a pause_.) It's rather frightening to think what a face can hide.... I sometimes catch sight of one looking at me. Careful lips, and blank eyes.... And then I find I'm staring at myself in the glass ... and I realise how successfully I'm hiding the thoughts I know so well ... and then I know we're all ... strangers. Windows, with blinds, and behind them ... secrets. What's behind _his_ eyes? (_After a pause, with a smile_) You're quite right, it _is_ morbid.

HUBERT: D'you think he's a thief or something? By Jove, I left my links on the washstand before lunch!

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....

MRS. TERENCE (_reading, heavily_): "... Next time you strike Newcastle, O.K. by me, baby...." Ooh!

HUBERT: Just another servant-girl.... Sorry, Dora....

DORA (_lugubriously_): O.K.

OLIVIA (_rummaging in the pocket-book_): Bus ticket to Thorburton, some snaps ...

MRS. TERENCE: Look at 'er _bust_!

OLIVIA: Here's a group.... Look, Hubert....

HUBERT _joins her in front of the table._

HUBERT: This wench is rather fetching.

MRS. TERENCE (_crowding between them_): Look at _'er_!... The impudence, 'er being taken in a bathing-suit!...

DORA: He's not in this one, is 'e?

HUBERT (_impressed_): Oh, I say ... there _she_ is!

MRS. TERENCE and DORA: who?

HUBERT: The missing female! In front of the tall man.... You remember the photograph of her in the _Mirror_?

DORA: It's awful to think she may be dead. Awful....

MRS. TERENCE: Looks ever so sexy, doesn't she?

DORA: 'Ere's one of a little boy--

OLIVIA: How extraordinary....

HUBERT: What?

OLIVIA: It's himself.

DORA: The little Eton collar.... Oh, dear ... ever so sweet, isn't it? MRS. TERENCE: Now that's what I call a real innocent face....

HUBERT (_going to the centre of the room_): Well, that's that....

OLIVIA: Wait a minute, wasn't there another one? (_Seeing the hat-box_) Oh, yes....

HUBERT (_lifting it on to a chair_): Oh, this; yes....

DORA: Old-fashioned, isn't it?

MRS. TERENCE: I should think he got it from a box-room at the Tallboys--

OLIVIA (_puzzled_): But it looks so extraordinary--(_She gives a sudden gasp.)

They look at her. She is staring at the box. A pause._

HUBERT: What is it?

OLIVIA: I don't know.... Suppose there is something ... inside it?

_A pause. They stare at her, fascinated by her thought. The front door bangs. They are electrified into action: but it is too late. It is_ DAN. _He goes briskly to the table._

DAN: She wants to sit in the sun now and have a bit of _East Lynne_. Talk about changin' your mind--

_He sees the suitcases on the table before him, and is motionless and silent. A pause. The others dare not move. He finally breaks the situation, takes up "East Lynne" from the table, and walks slowly back to the front door. He stops, looks round at_ HUBERT, _smiles, and comes down to him. His manner is normal--too normal._

Could I have it back, please? It's the only one I got....

HUBERT: Oh ... yes, of course.... (_Handing him the pocket-book._)

DAN (_taking it_): Thank you very much.

HUBERT: Not at all ... I ... (_To_ OLIVIA) Here, you deal with this. It's beyond me.

DAN (_to him_): Did you see the picture of me when I was a little fellow?

HUBERT: Yes.... Very jolly.

DAN (_turning to_ MRS. TERENCE): Did _you?_ It was in the inside of my wallet.

MRS. TERENCE: Oh ... was it?

DAN: Yes. Where I should be keeping my money, only any bit of money I have I always keep _on_ me. (_Turning to_ HUBERT) Safer, don't you think?

HUBERT (_smiling weakly_): Ye-es....

DAN: I only keep one ten-bob note in this wallet, for emergencies.... (_Looking_) That's funny. It's gone.

_He looks at_ HUBERT. _The others look blankly at one another._ ... I expect I dropped it somewhere.... What did you think of the letter?

HUBERT: Letter?

DAN: You got in your hand.

HUBERT: Well, I didn't--er--

DAN: Means well, does Lil; but we had a row. (_Taking back the letter_) She would spy on me. And if there's anythin' I hate, it's spyin'. Don't you agree?

HUBERT: Ye-es.

DAN: I'd sooner have anythin' than a spy. (_To_ MRS. TERENCE) Bar a murderer, o' course.

_A pause. He is arranging his property in his wallet._

HUBERT (_incredulous_): What--what did you say?

DAN (_turning to him casually_): Bar a murderer, o' course!

OLIVIA _steps forward_. MRS. TERENCE _steps back from the chair on which the hat-box has been placed_.

OLIVIA (_incisively_): Talking of murder, do you know anything about Mrs. Chalfont's whereabouts at the moment?

DAN _turns to her, and for the first time sees the hat-box. He stands motionless. A pause._

DAN: Mrs. Who? OLIVIA: You can't pretend you've never heard of her.

DAN (_turning to_ HUBERT, _recovering himself_): Oh, Mrs. _Chalfont's_ whereabouts! I thought she said her name was Mrs. Chalfontswear. (_Profusely_) Silly.... Swear--about--couldn't think----

OLIVIA: Well?

DAN (_still looking at_ HUBERT, _brightly, after a pause_): I've nothin' to go on, but I think she's been ... murdered.

HUBERT: Oh, you do?

DAN: Yes, I do.

MRS. TERENCE: Who by?

DAN: They say she had several chaps on a string, and----(_Suddenly_) There was one fellow, a London chap, a bachelor, very citified--with a fair moust----(_He stares at_ HUBERT.)

HUBERT (_touching his moustache, unconsciously_): What are you looking at me for?

DAN: Well ... you wasn't round these parts the day she bunked, was you?

HUBERT: Yes, I was, as a matter of fact.

DAN (_significantly_): Oh....

MRS. BRAMSON'S VOICE (_calling in the garden_): Danny!

HUBERT (_flustered_): What in God's name are you getting at?

DAN _smiles and shrugs his shoulders regretfully at him, and goes out through the front door._ OLIVIA _sits at the table._

MRS. TERENCE (_to_ HUBERT, _perplexed_): Are you sure you didn't do it, sir?

HUBERT: I'm going out for a breath of air.

_He takes his hat and stick as he goes through the hall, and goes out through the front door._

MRS. TERENCE (_to_ OLIVIA): You don't still think--

OLIVIA: I won't say any more. I know how silly it sounds.

DORA _runs into the kitchen, snivelling._

MRS. TERENCE (_to_ OLIVIA): The way you worked us all up! Doesn't it all go to show--

_She hears_ DAN _return, and looks round apprehensively. He goes to the table slowly and looks at the two suitcases._

DAN (_smiling, to_ MRS. TERENCE): Would you mind please givin' me a hand with the tidyin' up?... (_Taking up the suitcases_) And carryin' the other one?... (_Going into the kitchen, followed by_ MRS. TERENCE _carrying the hat-box_) Looks as if we're goin' on our holidays, doesn't it?...

OLIVIA _is alone for a moment. She stares before her, perplexed._ DAN _returns. She looks away. He looks at her, his eyes narrowed. A pause. Studying her, he takes from a pocket of his jacket a formidable-looking clasp-knife, unclasps it, and tests the blade casually with his fingers. He glances at the mantelpiece, crosses to it, takes down a stick, and begins to sharpen the end of it._ OLIVIA _watches him. A pause._ OLIVIA: _Did_ you do it?

_He whittles at the stick._

DAN: You wouldn't be bad-lookin' without them glasses.

OLIVIA: It doesn't interest me very much what I look like.

DAN: Don't you believe it.... (_Surveying the shavings in the hearth_) Tch!... Clumsy.... (_Looking round, and seeing a newspaper lying on the table_) Ah....

_He crosses to the table.

(Smiling, with the suspicion of a mock-bow_) Excuse me.... (_He unfolds the newspaper on the table and begins to whittle the stick over it_.)

OLIVIA: You're very conceited, aren't you?

DAN (_reassuringly_): Yes....

OLIVIA: And you _are_ acting all the time, aren't you?

DAN (_staring at her, as if astonished_): Actin'? Actin' what? (_Leaning over the table, on both arms_) Look at the way I can look you in the eyes. I'll stare you out....

OLIVIA (_staring into his eyes_): I have a theory it's the criminals who _can_ look you in the eyes, and the honest people who blush and look away.

DAN (_smiling_): Oh....

OLIVIA (_after a pause, challenging_): It's a very blank look, though, isn't it?

DAN (_smiling_): Is it?

OLIVIA: You are acting, aren't you?

DAN (_after a pause, in a whisper, almost joyfully_): Yes!

OLIVIA (_fascinated_): And what are you like when you stop acting?

DAN: I dunno, it's so long since I stopped.

OLIVIA: But when you're alone?

DAN: Then I act more than ever I do.

OLIVIA: Why?

DAN: I dunno; 'cause I like it.... (_Breaking the scene, pulling a chair round to the table_) Now what d'ye say if _I_ ask a question or two for a change? (_Sitting in the chair facing her_) Just for a change.... Why can't you take a bit of an interest in some other body but me?

OLIVIA (_taken aback_): I'm not interested in you. Only you don't talk. That's bound to make people wonder.

DAN: I can talk a lot sometimes. A drop o' drink makes a power o' difference to me. (_Chuckling_) You'd be surprised.... Ah....

_He returns to his work._

OLIVIA: I wonder if I would....

DAN: I know you would....

OLIVIA: I think I can diagnose you all right.

DAN: Carry on.

OLIVIA: You haven't any feelings ... at all....

_He looks slowly up at her. She has struck home._

But you live in a world of your own.... A world of your own imagination.

DAN: I don't understand so very well, not bein' so very liter-er-airy.

OLIVIA: You follow me perfectly well.

_He shrugs his shoulders, laughs, and goes on whittling._

DAN: D'you still think there's been a bit o' dirty work?

OLIVIA: I don't know what to think now. I suppose not.

DAN (_intent on his work, his back to the audience_): Disappointed?

OLIVIA: What on earth do you mean?

DAN: Disappointed?

OLIVIA (_laughing, in spite of herself_): Yes, I suppose I am.

DAN: Why?

OLIVIA (_the tension at last relaxed_): Oh, I don't know.... Because nothing much has ever happened to me, and it's a dull day, and it's the depths of the country.... I don't know....

_A piercing scream from the bottom of the garden. A pause._

MRS. BRAMSON (_shrieking from the other side of the house_): Danny!... Danny!

_The clatter of footsteps in the garden_. DORA _runs in from the hall, breathless and terrified._

DORA: They're diggin' ... in the rubbish-pit ...

OLIVIA: Well?

DORA: There's something sticking out....

OLIVIA: What?

DORA: A hand ... Somebody's hand!... Oh, Miss Grayne ... somebody's hand....

_She runs whimpering into the kitchen, as_ OLIVIA _rises and runs to the left window and looks out._

MRS. BRAMSON'S VOICE (_calling off_): Danny!

DAN _rises slowly, his back to the audience._

OLIVIA _turns and suddenly sees him. Horror grows in her face.

The blare of music. The lights dim out._