Mrs. Schiller.
They have, dear—I'm sure they have. Last night
at the club it was enough to make a woman's heart
bleed to see so many women in trouble. There was
poor Mrs. Weber, whose husband was taken for
signalling, or something—[There is a knock on the door at R.]
Who's there? Come in! [Middle-aged man of the professional class enters.] Oh, is it you, Dr. Hoffmann?
Hoffmann.
[Looking round.] You're engaged?
Doctor.
No, no, sit down, Hoffmann.
Hoffmann.
[Sitting.] Sorry to bring bad news, doctor. It's
about the club.
Doctor.
Our Goethe Club?
Hoffmann.
Yes. You remember the stranger who came in
and stood at the back last night at the end of Margaret's lecture?
Doctor.
[Nodding.] Well?
Hoffmann.
He turns out to have been a detective. And this
morning our club-room was raided, doors sealed,
everything carried away.
Doctor.
But why?
