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.
CARVE. But I'd completely altered my style. I altered it on purpose.
EBAG. (Shaking his head.) My dear sir, there was once a well-known man
who stood six feet ten inches high. He shaved off his beard and dyed his
hair, and invented a very ingenious costume, and went to a Fancy Dress
Ball as Tom Thumb. Strange to say, his disguise was penetrated
immediately.
CARVE. Who are you?
EBAG. My name is Ebag--New Bond Street.
CARVE. What! You're my old dealer!
EBAG. And I'm delighted at last to make your acquaintance, sir.
Pages:
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112