MR. QUIRKE. Hyacinth Halvey! The best man that ever came into this town!
MISS JOYCE. Well, what lies he has!
MR. QUIRKE. It's my belief the half-crown is a bad one. Maybe it's to pass it off it was given to him. There were tinkers in the town at the time of the fair. Give it here to me. [Bites it.] No, indeed, it's sound enough. Here, Sergeant, it's best for you take it. [Gives it to Sergeant, who examines it.
SERGEANT. Can it be? Can it be what I think it to be?
MR. QUIRKE. What is it? What do you take it to be?
SERGEANT. It is, it is. I know it, I know this half-crown——
MR. QUIRKE. That is a queer thing, now.
SERGEANT. I know it well. I have been handling it in the church for the last twelvemonth——
MR. QUIRKE. Is that so?
SERGEANT. It is the nest-egg half-crown we hand round in the collection-plate every Sunday morning. I know it by the dint on the Queen's temples and the crooked scratch under her nose.