MR. BEN DIXON.
(Looks at watch.) Damn it, here's five minutes gone already. My dear sir, do be reasonable.
ADAM CHERRY.
My dear Mr. Ben Dixon—or Wheedles—or whatever your name really is, don't argue You are getting off uncommonly cheap. I say nothing about the money you've swindled Mrs. Ben Dixon out of. I say nothing about the money you've swindled me out of. But I want the money you've swindled that poor boy and girl upstairs out of—and I mean to have it.
MR. BEN DIXON.
But if I haven't got it?
ADAM CHERRY.
Then you'll get five years' penal servitude for bigamy.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Dear, dear me, how Providence does seem against me to-day. Oh, this is a beast of a house (savagely.) What is it you do want? Be quick about it? (Slams down bag and umbrella and seats himself at table.)