a charming game your friends the Rodneys have let us into. They--"

"My friends! Yours, you mean!" she retorted.

"Oh, come now! But let it go at that. They know, of course, that this
fellow isn't her husband, and yet, by Gad, Agatha, they've gone about
deliberately palming him off on us as the real article. They are
actually sanctioning the whole bloody--"

"Stop a moment, Carney," interrupted his wife. "The London chap may be
the fraud. Let us go slow, my dear."

"Slow? How the devil can we go slow in such fast company? No! This
fellow is the fraud. And they knew it too. They all know it. They--"

"Rubbish! You forget that the whole Rodney tribe is up in arms because
Medcroft is making love to his wife's sister. They're not assuming
anything there, let me tell you. And he's not Edith's lover. If he's not
her husband, he's playing a part that she understands and approves. And
this--this, my dear Carney, may account for the imaginary orphanage of
Tootles. Dear me, it's quite a tangle."

"I shall telegraph my solicitors at once for definite news. They'll know
whether the real Medcroft is in London, and then--well, by Jove, Agatha,
I can't tell just wot steps I'll take in regard to these Rodneys."

He went into a long tirade against the unfortunate Seattle-ites, as he
called them. "Understand me, Agatha, I don't blame Mrs. Medcroft. If
she's having an affair with this chap and can pull the wool--"