THE CLERK. No. I come because the waiter from the hotel brought
this paper. You left it on the coffeeroom breakfast-table this
morning.

THE LADY [intercepting it]. It is the list. Good heavens!

THE CLERK [proffering the envelope]. He says he thinks this is
the envelope belonging to it.

THE LADY [snatching the envelope also]. Yes! Addressed to you,
Lord Augustus! [Augustus comes back to the table to look at it.]
Oh, how imprudent! Everybody would guess its importance with your
name on it. Fortunately I have some letters of my own here
[opening her wallet.] Why not hide it in one of my envelopes?
then no one will dream that the enclosure is of any political
value. [Taking out a letter, she crosses the room towards the
window, whispering to Augustus as she passes him.] Get rid of
that man.

AUGUSTUS [haughtily approaching the clerk, who humorously makes a
paralytic attempt to stand at attention]. Have you any further
business here, pray?

THE CLERK. Am I to give the waiter anything; or will you do it
yourself?

AUGUSTUS. Which waiter is it? The English one?

THE CLERK. No: the one that calls hisself a Swiss. Shouldn't
wonder if he'd made a copy of that paper.