Jarvis. Certainly. (He prepares to lie down.)
Grumpy. Take care, you mustn't crumple your shirt-front. Perhaps it removes? Ah, allow me. (He detaches it and hastily substitutes the other one for it.) Ah, thank you so much. Here is your shirt-front again.
[Exit Jarvis.
Ruddock (eagerly). Is that it, Sir?
Grumpy (examining Jarvis's shirt-front carefully). No, linen, confound it. Ruddock, we must find that india-rubber richard. Who has it? Ah!
Curtain.
Act III.—Trapped.
Scene—Jarvis's rooms in London.
Keble (his man). Terrible thing that assault on Mr. Heron, Sir.
Jarvis. Yes, terrible.