Maid. Why, 'tis the Conjuror. Have you news for us, sir?
Conjuror (with no illusions about the Oriental style). Absolutely stop press. What is it you want to know? Racing? The Bong Selling Plate was won by Proboscis, McSimp up. Immense enthusiasm. Bank rate unchanged—quite right this cold weather. Excuse me a moment, sir, your moustache is coming off. No, the left wing—allow me to lend you a postage stamp. Do you prefer red or green?
Maid (biting her lip). Will you not give us news of the Emperor?
Conjuror. I will. His Majesty has met with a severe accident whilst out hunting this morning, being bitten by a buffalo.
Maid. Alas, what will my mistress say?
Conjuror. She has already said everything that was necessary. Her actual words were: "Just like Bong."
Rat-catcher (seizing the opportunity). His Majesty ordered me to meet him here at noon. Methinks I had better withdraw and return anon. (Makes off hurriedly.)
Conjuror (seizing him). Not so. He bade me command you to stay and sing to us. (Sensation.)
Rat-catcher (huskily). Alas, I have forgotten my voice—that is, I have left my music at home. I will go and fetch it. (Has another dash.)
Conjuror. Stay! Listen! (They all listen.)