CARVE. Registrar?
PASCOE. Registrar of deaths. There'll be all kinds of things to attend
to. (Moving to go out.)
(Bell rings again.)
CARVE. (As if dazed.) Is that the front door bell?
PASCOE. (Drily.) Quite possibly! I'll open it.
(Exit.)
(CARVE, alone, makes a gesture of despair. Re-enter PASCOE with
CYRUS CARVE.)
PASCOE. (As they enter.) Yes, very sudden, very sudden. There were
three of us--a nurse, my assistant, and myself. This is Mr. Shawn, the
deceased's valet.
CYRUS. Morning. (Looks round at disorder of room contemptuously.)
Pigstye!... My name is Cyrus Carve. I'm your late master's cousin and
his only relative. You've possibly never heard of me.
CARVE. (Curtly.) Oh yes, I have! You got up a great quarrel when you
were aged twelve, you and he.
CYRUS. Your manner isn't very respectful, my friend. However you may
have treated my cousin, be good enough to remember you're not my
valet.
CARVE. How did you get to know about it?
CYRUS. I suppose he forbade you to send for me, eh? (Pause.
Pages:
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38