Blayne. No, but he'll die if you don't—give the hundred. Here! Here's a peg-voucher. You can see what we've signed for, and Anthony's man will come round tomorrow to collect it. So there will be no trouble.
Jervoise. (Signing.) One hundred, E. M. J. There you are (feebly). It isn't one of your jokes, is it?
Blayne. No, it really is wanted. Anthony, you were the biggest poker-winner last week, and you've defrauded the tax-collector too long. Sign!
Anthony. Let's see. Three fifties and a seventy-two twenty-three twenty—say four hundred and twenty. That'll give him a month clear at the Hills. Many thanks, you men. I'll send round the chaprassi tomorrow.
Curtiss. You must engineer his taking the stuff, and of course you mustn't—
Anthony. Of course. It would never do. He'd weep with gratitude over his evening drink.
Blayne. That's just what he would do, damn him. Oh! I say, Anthony, you pretend to know everything. Have you heard about Gadsby?
Anthony. No. Divorce Court at last?
Blayne. Worse. He's engaged!
Anthony. How much? He can't be!