BELINDA. How nicely you say it—Harold.
BAXTER (half getting out of his seat). Mrs. Tremayne, I must not listen to this.
BELINDA (meekly). I won't offend again, Mr. Baxter. Please go on. Tell me about the quest; are you winning?
BAXTER. I am progressing, Mrs. Tremayne. Indeed, I came here this morning to acquaint you with the results of my investigations. Yesterday I located a man called Robinson working upon a farm close by. I ventured to ask him if he had any marks upon him by which he could be recognized. He adopted a threatening attitude, and replied that if I wanted any he could give me some. With the aid of half-a-crown I managed to placate him. Putting my inquiry in another form, I asked if he had any moles. A regrettable misunderstanding, which led to a fruitless journey to another part of the village, was eventually cleared up, and on my return I satisfied myself that this man was in no way related to your niece.
BELINDA (admiringly). How splendid of you! Well, now, we know he's not. (She holds up one finger.)
BAXTER. Yes. In the afternoon I located another Mr. Robinson following the profession of a carrier. My first inquiries led to a similar result, with the exception that in this case Mr. Robinson carried his threatening attitude so far as to take off his coat and roll up his sleeves. Perceiving at once that he was not the man, I withdrew.
BELINDA. How brave you are! That makes two. (She holds up another finger). It still leaves a good many. (Pleadingly.) Just call me Belinda again.
BAXTER (nervously). You mustn't tempt me, Mrs. Tremayne.
BELINDA (penitently). I won't!
BAXTER. To resume, then, my narrative. This morning I have heard of a third Mr. Robinson. Whether there is actually any particular fortune attached to the number three I cannot say for certain. It is doubtful whether statistics would be found to support the popular belief. But one likes to flatter oneself that in one's own case it may be true; and so—