Ebag.  It is a masterpiece, madam. (To carve.) Then I may not make an offer for it?

Carve.  No.

Janet.  Excuse me, Albert.  Why shouldn’t the gentleman make an offer for it?

Ebag. (Quickly seizing an opportunity) If you cared to consider, say, five hundred pounds.

Janet.  Five hundred p——­

Ebag.  I came down quite prepared to spend—­and to pay cash. (Fingers his pocket-book.)

Janet. (Sitting down.) And if it isn’t a rude question—­do you generally go about with five hundred pounds in your pocket, as it were?

Ebag. (Raising his hands.) In my business, madam—­

Carve.  It’s not for sale. (Turns it round.)

Janet. (Vivaciously.) Oh yes, it is.  Somebody in this house must think about the future. (Cajolingly.) If this gentleman can show me five hundred pounds it’s for sale.  After all, it’s my picture.  And you can do me another one.  I’d much sooner be done without the cooking-sleeves. (Entreating.) Albert!

Carve. (Shy, nervous, and tongue-tied.) Well!

Janet. (Endearingly.) That’s right!  That’s all right!

Ebag. (Putting down notes.) If you will kindly count these—­

Janet. (Taking the notes.) Nay, I’m too dizzy to count them. (As if giving up any attempt to realize the situation.) It fairly beats me!  I never did understand this art business, and I never shall....(To Ebag.) Why are you so interested in my portrait?  You’ve never seen me before.

Ebag.  Madam, your portrait happens to be one of the very finest modern paintings I ever saw. (To carve.) I have a picture here as to which I should like to ask your opinion. (Exposing picture.) I bought it ten years ago.

Carve. (After seeing picture.) Janet, would you mind leaving us a minute.

Janet. (Triumphant with her money.) Not a bit.

     (Exit, L.)

Ebag. (Bowing to Janet.  Then to carve.) It’s signed “Ilam Carve.”  Should you say it’s a genuine Carve?

Carve. (More and more disturbed.) Yes.

Ebag.  Where was it painted?

Carve.  Why do you ask me?

Ebag. (Quietly dramatic.) Because you painted it. (Pause.  He approaches carve.) Master——­

Carve.  What’s that?

Ebag.  Master!

     (Pause.)

Carve. (Impulsively.) Look here!  I never could stick being called “master”!  It’s worse even than “maitre.”  Have a cigarette?  How did you find out who I was?

Ebag. (Pointing to Janet’s portrait.) Isn’t that proof enough?

Carve.  Yes, but you knew before you saw that.

Ebag. (After lighting-cigarette.) I did.  I knew from the very first picture I bought from our friend the “picture-dealer and frame-maker” in the early part of last year.