The Baboo: We—will—now—return—in time—for—the—especial—dance—for—ladies—and gentlemen—at—the—Nautical—Club. (He takes his tribe away.)
(The stage darkens. Aswarak and Co. begin to emerge stealthily from their hiding place. Red limelight illumines the stage. Weird music. They rush into the hovel. Reappear raving like Bedlamites. Oskarashi has escaped. They realise that he was in the coffin of the Manchu funeral. In the thick of the hubbub, the voices of the returning mourners are heard.)
The Mourners (returning):
Chinky Chinky Chip Chip Choop,
And any damn rot you please,
Chop-suey, Laichee, Birds-nest-soup
Welly good stage Chinese.
Aswarak (foaming at the mouth): Halt, evil-tongued progeny of obscene mothers!
The Mourners (tearing off their disguises): What? Offal-eating scum of the bazaar! (They fall on each other. The curtain falls on the familiar spectacle of writhing humanity.)
The last scene we are not sure about. It depends largely on the temperamental judgment of Mr. Gloomy Bishop. It was originally planned to be the courtyard of the Dalai Lamasery of Thibet. Mr. Bishop, however, leans in favour of a Patagonian village or alternatively a street scene in Tristan d’Acunha. He thinks the latter might enable him to introduce a talking penguin as a counterweight to Mr. Charles Cochran’s singing duck. And he is not absolutely certain that he wouldn’t like a Honolulu surf scene, or perhaps a salt mining camp on the Gulf of Carpentaria. Mr. Bishop is not sure; and he must have time to think it over.