The Earl (graciously). I will hear you, fellow! (Aside.) Strange how familiar his features seem to me!
Horeh. The fact is, your Lordship's celebrating the coming of hage of the wrong heir. (Sensation—i.e., the six tenantry shift from one leg to the other, and murmur feebly.) Oh, I can prove it. Twenty-one years ago—(slow music)—I was in your Lordship's service as gamekeeper, 'ead whip, and hextry waiter. My son and yours was born the selfsame day, and my hold woman was selected to hact as foster-mother to the youthful lord. Well—(tells a long, and not entirely original, story; marvellous resemblance between infants, only distinguishable by green and magenta bows, &c., &c.) Soon after, your Lordship discharged me at a moment's notice——
The Earl (haughtily). I did, upon discovering that you were in the habit of surreptitiously carrying off kitchen-stuff, concealed within your umbrella. But proceed with your narration.
Horeh. I swore to be avenged, and so—(common form again; the shifted bows)—consequently, as a moment's reflection will convince you, the young man on the steps, in the button-'ole and tall 'at, is my lawful son, while the real Viscount is—(presenting Coltsfoot, who advances modestly on his hands)—'ere!
[Renewed sensation.
The Earl. This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. (To Lord B.) And so, Sir, it appears that your whole life has been one consistent imposition—a gilded lie?
Lord B. Let my youth and inexperience at the time, Sir, plead as my best excuse!
The E. Nothing can excuse the fact that you—you, a low-born son of the people, have monopolised the training, the tenderness and education, which were the due of your Patrician foster-brother. (To Coltsfoot.) Approach, my injured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for these years of injustice and neglect!
Coltsf. Well, Guv'nor, if you could send out for a pot o' four arf, it 'ud be a beginning, like.
The E. You shall have every luxury that befits your rank, but first remove that incongruous garb.