Grumpy (when the audiences delight at seeing Mr. Cyril Maude again has at last been got under). Wow-wow-wow-wow-wow; tut-tut-tut-tut-tut (and other old-gentleman noises). Ah, Ernest, my boy, what are you doing here?
Ernest. Just back from Africa, uncle, with a diamond weighing—I mean costing—ninety thousand pounds in my belt, which I'm taking up to the firm in London. May I sleep here?
Grumpy. Do, my boy. (Enter Mr. Jarvis.) Ah, Mr. Jarvis, let me introduce my nephew, Mr. Heron. He's just back from Africa with a—— (To himself) No, perhaps better not. Well, good night to you both. Wow-wow-wow, tut-tut-tut-tut.
[Exit, followed by Mr. Jarvis.
Ernest is left alone with his diamond. Seeing a suspicious shadow at the window he rushes to it and leans out, so as to give anybody a chance of sand-bagging him. The chance going begging, he takes his diamond from his belt to see if it is still there. The only other precaution he can think of is to draw the curtains. At this moment a hand steals through the door and turns out the lights. A terrible struggle in the dark ensues; there is a noise of somebody's larynx going; and then the curtain goes down and up ... to disclose, the body of poor Ernest on the floor. Is he dead? Certainly not; he's got to marry Virginia; but the diamond is gone.
Act II.—The Sleuth-Hound.
Time—Next morning.
Grumpy. Tut-tut. Is everything just as it was last night? Very well, then. You say that when you discovered Mr. Ernest he was lying on his back, and in his right hand he was clutching this—what did you call it?
Ruddock (the valet). A dicky, Sir. A detachable shirt-front.
Grumpy. Excellent. Then the first question is—to whom did this—er—richard belong?