Ebag.  In the first place, have you cross-examined this very original Mrs. Albert Shawn?

Texel.  Come.  You don’t mean to argue that a woman could mistake another man for her own husband—­even after twenty-five years or so?

Ebag. (Smiling apologetically for his freedom.) According to the divorce reports, they’re constantly doing it after one year, to say nothing of twenty-five.

Texel. (Appreciative.) Good!  That’s good!  Well, I may tell you right here that I had an interview with this gentleman’s (indicating carve) ecclesiastical twins only yesterday afternoon, and they assure me that their mother is positive on the point.

Janet. (Meditatively.) Simpletons!

Alcar.  I beg pardon.

Janet.  I daresay they preach very nicely, but out of the pulpit they don’t what I should call shine, poor boys!  Anybody could see she wasn’t positive.  Why, it wasn’t until the old lady dropped in to have a cup of tea with us that I felt sure my husband’s name really was Carve.

Alcar.  Then you hadn’t credited his story before?

Janet.  Well, it wanted some crediting, didn’t it?

Cyrus. (With intention.) You only began to credit it after Mr. Ebag had called and paid you the sum of L500 in cash.

Janet. (After a slight pause, calmly.) Oh!  So you know about that, do you?

Carve. (To Cyrus, genially.) Cousin, if you continue in that strain I shall have to take you out on to the doormat and assault you.

Ebag.  I should like to say——­

Cyrus. (Interrupting grimly.) Lord Leonard, isn’t it time that this ceased?

Texel. (Heartily amused.) But why?  I’m enjoying every minute of it.

Alcar.  I should be sorry to interfere with Mr. Texel’s amusement, but I think the moment has now come for me to make a disclosure.  When I was approached as to this affair I consulted Mr. Cyrus Carve first, he being the sole surviving relative of his cousin.  That seemed to me to be the natural and proper course to adopt.  Mr. Cyrus Carve gave me a very important piece of information, and it is solely on the strength of that information that I have invited you all to come here this afternoon.  (He looks at Cyrus.)

Cyrus. (Clearing his throat, to Ebag and carve.) Of course, you’ll argue that after thirty-five years absence it’s a wise man that can recognize his own cousin.  I’m absolutely convinced in my own mind that you (scorn-fully to carve) are not my cousin.  But then, you’ll tell me that men have been hung before now on the strength of sworn identification that proved afterwards to be mistaken.  I admit it.  I admit that in theory I may be wrong. (With increased grim sarcasm.) I admit that in theory the original Mrs. Shawn may be wrong.  Everything’s possible, especially with a bully of a K.C. cross-examining you, and a judge turning you into ‘copy’ for Punch.  But I’ve got something up my sleeve that will settle the whole affair instantly, to the absolute satisfaction of both plaintiff and defendant.