Conjurer. I beg your pardon. Your sister will tell you I am sometimes mistaken about children.
Morris. I forbid you to appeal to my sister.
Conjurer. That is exactly what a schoolboy would do.
Morris. [With abrupt and dangerous calm.] I am not a schoolboy, Professor. I am a quiet business man. But I tell you in the country I come from, the hand of a quiet business man goes to his hip pocket at an insult like that.
Conjurer. [Fiercely.] Let it go to his pocket! I thought the hand of a quiet business man more often went to someone else's pocket.
Morris. You....
[Puts his hand to his hip. The Doctor puts his hand on his shoulder.
Doctor. Gentlemen, I think you are both forgetting yourselves.
Conjurer. Perhaps. [His tone sinks suddenly to weariness.] I ask pardon for what I said. It was certainly in excess of the young gentleman's deserts. [Sighs.] I sometimes rather wish I could forget myself.
Morris. [Sullenly, after a pause.] Well, the entertainment's coming on; and you English don't like a scene. I reckon I'll have to bury the blamed old hatchet too.