Act III

Torrid forenoon filtered through small Moorish windows high up in
the adobe walls of the largest room in Leslie Rankin's house. A
clean cool room, with the table (a Christian article) set in the
middle, a presidentially elbowed chair behind it, and an inkstand
and paper ready for the sitter. A couple of cheap American chairs
right and left of the table, facing the same way as the
presidential chair, give a judicial aspect to the arrangement.
Rankin is placing a little tray with a jug and some glasses near
the inkstand when Lady Cicely's voice is heard at the door, which
is behind him in the corner to his right.

LADE CICELY. Good morning. May I come in?

RANKIN. Certainly. (She comes in, to the nearest end of the table.
She has discarded all travelling equipment, and is dressed exactly
as she might be in Surrey on a very hot day.) Sit ye doon, Leddy
Ceecily.

LADY CICELY (sitting down). How nice you've made the room for the
inquiry!

RANKIN (doubtfully). I could wish there were more chairs. Yon
American captain will preside in this; and that leaves but one for
Sir Howrrd and one for your leddyship. I could almost be tempted
to call it a maircy that your friend that owns the yacht has
sprained his ankle and cannot come. I misdoubt me it will not look
judeecial to have Captain Kearney's officers squatting on the
floor.

LADY CICELY. Oh, they won't mind. What about the prisoners?

RANKIN. They are to be broat here from the town gaol presently.

LADY CICELY. And where is that silly old Cadi, and my handsome
Sheikh Sidi? I must see them before the inquiry,or they'll give
Captain Kearney quite a false impression of what happened.

RANKIN. But ye cannot see them. They decamped last night, back to
their castles in the Atlas.

LADY CICELY (delighted). No!

RANKIN. Indeed and they did. The poor Cadi is so terrified by all
he has haird of the destruction of the Spanish fleet, that he
daren't trust himself in the captain's hands. (Looking
reproachfully at her) On your journey back here, ye seem to have
frightened the poor man yourself, Leddy Ceecily, by talking to him
about the fanatical Chreestianity of the Americans. Ye have
largely yourself to thank if he's gone.

LADY CICELY. Allah be praised! WHAT a weight off our minds, Mr.
Rankin!

RANKIN (puzzled). And why? Do ye not understand how necessary
their evidence is?

LADY CICELY. THEIR evidence! It would spoil everything. They would
perjure themselves out of pure spite against poor Captain
Brassbound.

RANKIN (amazed). Do ye call him POOR Captain Brassbound! Does not
your leddyship know that this Brasshound is--Heaven forgive me for
judging him!--a precious