Mr. S. Unfortunately, they are not. I will read you the sentence as completed. (Reads.) "Should such a contingency happen, the number of these feathered songsters included in the catastrophe would, in all probability, be simply—ah—nought!" Now I venture to assert that nothing short of—ah—absolute genius could possibly—— (To Robert.) What do you mean by interrupting me, Sir?
Robert. Please, Sir, I said nothink, Sir!
Pompilia. Oh, what does it matter? Give me the paper, Papa. (She snatches it.) Oh, listen to this:—"The number of solutions sent in was five hundred thousand, which means that twenty-five thousand pounds remain for division. The only competitor who gave the correct solution was Mr. Robert Conkling, of Linoleum Lodge, Camberwell...." Oh! Why, that's you, Robert!
Robert. Yes, Miss, I told you I said "Nothink," Miss. I'm sure if I'd thought——
Mr. S. (gasping). Twenty-five thousand pounds! Ah, Robert, I trust you will not forget that this piece of—ah—unmerited good fortune was acquired by you under this humble roof. Shake hands, my boy!
Pompilia. Wait, Papa—don't shake hands till I've done—(continuing)—"Mr. Conkling, however, having elected to disregard our conditions, requiring the solution to be written out in full, and to express the word "Nought" by a cipher, we cannot consider him legally entitled to the prize——"
Mr. S. How dare you use my private address for your illiterate attempts, Sir?
Prisc. (seizing the paper). Why don't you read it all?——"We are prepared, nevertheless, to waive this informality, and a cheque for the full amount of twenty-five thousand pounds, payable to his order, will be forwarded to Mr. CONKLING accordingly——"
Mr. S. Well, Robert, you deserve it, I must say—shake hands!—I—ah—mean it.
Robert. Thankee, Sir, I'm sure—it was Cook and Jane 'elped me, Sir, but—(dolefully)—I sold my chanst to the butcher-boy, for tuppence and a mouth-orgin, Sir.