Carve.  My dear fellow, why not have told us this exciting news earlier?

Cyrus.  Why not? (Glowering at carve.) Because I wanted you to commit yourself completely beyond any withdrawing.  I decided what sort of man you were the moment I first set eyes on you, and when I heard of this law case, I said to myself that I’d come forward as a witness, but I shouldn’t give any evidence away in advance.  I said to myself I’d show you up once and for all in full court.  However, his lordship prevailed on me.

Carve.  Well?

Cyrus.  When my cousin and I were boys I’ve seen him with his shirt off.

Carve.  True.  And he’s seen you with yours off.

Cyrus.  Now just here (pointing to left front neck below collar), just below his collar, my cousin Ilam Carve had two moles close together—­one was hairy and the other wasn’t.  My cousin was very proud of them.

Carve.  Oh!

Cyrus. (Ferociously sarcastic.) I suppose you’ll say you’ve had them removed?

Carve. (Casually.) No.  Not precisely.

Cyrus.  Can you show them?

Carve. (Very casually.) Of course.

Texel. (Slapping his knee.) Great!  Great!

Cyrus. (Staggered but obstinate.) Well, let’s have a look at them.

Alcar. (To Janet.) Then doubtless you are familiar with this double phenomenon, Mrs. X?

Janet.  Yes.  But he isn’t so proud of his moles now as he used to be when he was a boy.

Alcar.  Now, gentlemen, you see how beautifully clear the situation is.  By one simple act we shall arrive at a definite and final result, and we shall have avoided all the noise and scandal of a public trial.  Mr. X, will you oblige us very much by taking your collar off?

Janet. (Jumping up.) Please, there’s just one little thing. (To carve.) Wait a moment, dear. (To Ebag.) Mr. Ebag, how many of those pictures did you sell to Mr. Texel?

Ebag.  Fifteen.

Janet.  And you made a profit of over four hundred pounds on each?

Texel. (Boisterously—­laughing to Ebag.) You did?

Janet.  Fifteen times four hundred—­that makes—­how much does it make?

Texel.  Six thousand, madam.  Thirty thousand dollars.  Great!

Janet. (To Ebag.) Don’t you think we deserve some of that, as it were?

Ebag.  Madam, I shall be delighted to pay you five thousand four hundred pounds.  That will be equivalent to charging you a nominal commission of ten per cent.

Janet.  Thank you.

Carve.  I won’t touch a penny of their wretched money.

Janet. (Sweetly.) I wouldn’t dream of asking you to, dearest.  I shall touch it.  Goodness knows what street we shall be in after this affair—­and with my brewery shares gone simply all to pieces!  Now, dearest, you can take it off. (She resumes her seat.)