table, Right Back, she takes out a chemist's prescription.]

[ANNA comes in.]

CHLOE. I don't want that champagne. Take this to the chemist and
get him to make up some of these cachets quick, and bring them back
yourself.

ANNA. Yes, ma'am; but you have some.

CHLOE. They're too old; I've taken two--the strength's out of them.
Quick, please; I can't stand this head.

ANNA. [Taking the prescription--with her smile] Yes, ma'am. It'll
take some time--you don't want me?

CHLOE. No; I want the cachets.

[ANNA goes out.]

[CHLOE looks at her wrist-watch, goes to the writing-table,
which is old-fashioned, with a secret drawer, looks round her,
dives at the secret drawer, takes out a roll of notes and a
tissue paper parcel. She counts the notes: "Three hundred."
Slips them into her breast and unwraps the little parcel. It
contains pears. She slips them, too, into her dress, looks
round startled, replaces the drawer, and regains her place on
the sofa, lying prostrate as the door opens, and HORNBLOWER
comes in. She does not open her ages, and he stands looking at
her a moment before speaking.]