Ebag. Just so. But in one of those pictures there's most distinctly a taxi-cab. It isn't a private motor car. It's a taxi.
Carve. And if there is? No law against painting a taxi, I hope!
Ebag. (Again quietly dramatic.) No. But at the date of your funeral there wasn't a single taxi on the streets of London.
Carve. The devil!
Ebag. Exactly. Texel is bringing an action against me for misrepresentation. I shall have to ask you to give evidence and say who you are.
Carve. (Angrily.) But I won't give evidence! You've brought this on yourself. How much did you sell those little pictures for?
Ebag. Oh, an average of between four and five hundred.
Carve. And what did you pay for them? I ask you, what did you pay for them?
Ebag. (Smoothly.) Four pounds a piece. The fact is—I did rather well out of them.
Carve. Damned Jew!