RODIMORE WOODS, a glade with sunset through the trees. The river at back, with boat.
LEESON, FANSHAWE'S valet, is discovered looking off, with fishing-rod in hand, disjointing it.
LEESON. What's the governor want dodging after these Sunday school brats for? Sunday schools ain't much in his way! (Goes up, lakes up creel.) If ever there was a devil on the face of this earth, it's Captain Eustace Fanshawe!
FANSHAWEenters hurriedly. Looking off.
FANSHAWE. Put down that cursed tackle, anywhere, throw it into the river.
( LEESONthrows it off.) Come here. (Takes letter out of pocket.) You see that young lady a little to the left of those children.
LEESON. Yes, sir.