Part 2

I’ll let you know when it’s convenient for you to call. I’m afraid you’re a little inclined to be pushing, my dear. You don’t mind my telling you, do you? It’s not quite the correct thing in a clergyman’s wife.

[_She turns her back on_ ROSIE, _who is left gasping. She tries to choke her sobs, but tears of mortification roll down her cheeks._

LADY WANLEY.

Oh, the cad, the cad.

[_She makes_ ROSIE _sit down and comforts her_.

ETHEL.

Mother, how could you.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Hold your tongue, Ethel. I’ve been wanting to give those people a lesson for some time. Where’s our table, Robert?

PARKER-JENNINGS.

There are some people sitting there, my dear. We shall ’ave to take this one.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Didn’t you tell the waiter to reserve it? Waiter!

JACK STRAW.

Yes, madam.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

You must tell those people that that table’s taken.

JACK STRAW.

I’m very sorry, madam. Will this one not do instead?

ETHEL.

Yes, mother. Let’s sit here.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

I’m not going to let people push me into any ’ole and corner they like.

VINCENT.

Cheek, I call it.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

Come on, sit down, mother.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

[_Unwillingly taking her seat at a vacant table._] How often ’ave I told you not to call me mother? My name’s Marion; I’m sure you ought to know it by now.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

Is it? I always thought it was Maria.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

[_To_ JACK STRAW.] What are you waiting there for?

JACK STRAW.

I thought the gentleman wished to give an order, madam.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Why didn’t you keep that table, eh?

JACK STRAW.

I’m very sorry, madam, I daresay I misunderstood you.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Don’t you know English?

JACK STRAW.

Perfectly, madam.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

I don’t know what they want to engage these dirty foreigners for, they make me sick.

ETHEL.

Mother, he can hear every word you say.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

Two coffees, and bring all the liqueurs you’ve got.

JACK STRAW.

Very well, sir, cigars or cigarettes?

PARKER-JENNINGS.

Bring some cigars, and none of your twopenny stinkers. Bring the most expensive cigars you’ve got. I’ll soon show them who I am.

JACK STRAW.

Very well, sir.

[_Exit._

ETHEL.

Mother, how could you be so brutal to poor Rosie. What has she done to you?

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

I wish you wouldn’t call me mother, Ethel. It sounds so common. Why don’t you call me mamma?

PARKER-JENNINGS.

Who’s ’is lordship talking to?

VINCENT.

Oh, that’s little Flossie Squaretoes. I’ll go and give her a look up in a minute.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

I wish you were a little more like your brother, Ethel. He knows ’ow to live up to ’is position.

VINCENT.

Aitches, mater, aitches.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Oh, you always say I drop my aitches, Vincent. Well, if I do I can afford it.

VINCENT.

You’re wrong, mater, only the aristocracy can afford to drop their aitches.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Oh, well, p’raps we shall be aristocracy one of these days, eh, Robert?

PARKER-JENNINGS.

You leave it to me, my dear. If money can do it.... I say, ’is lordship lapped up that ’ock of mine at luncheon, didn’t he?

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

I wish you could get out of that ’abit of yours of always looking at what people eat and drink. And what if he did lap it up. You didn’t put it there for people to look at, did you?

VINCENT.

I say, Ethel, you needn’t have turned your back on him all the time.

ETHEL.

I thought he drank too much.

VINCENT.

Your ideas are so beastly middle-class. You mustn’t expect a man like Serlo to do things like--like the people we used to know at....

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

That’ll do, Vincent. We all know quite well where we used to live before your father’s poor uncle was taken, and you needn’t refer to it. [ETHEL _shrugs her shoulders impatiently_.] It seems to me that Vincent and I are the only ones of the family who know ’ow to live up to our position. [JACK STRAW _comes up with the coffee and liqueurs. Another waiter hands round the cigars._ SERLO _rejoins them_.] [_Very affably._] Come and sit by me, Lord Serlo. Now what liqueurs will you ’ave? If there’s anything you fancy, you just ask for it.

[ROSIE _gives a little sob_.

LADY WANLEY.

Oh, my dear, don’t, don’t. You mustn’t mind.

ROSIE.

I feel so frightfully humiliated. She asked me to go to the hall whenever I felt inclined, and I thought she really meant it. I never knew that I wasn’t wanted. It’s so awful to know that they only thought me horribly pushing.

ABBOTT.

By Jove, I wish it had been one of the men. I should have liked to knock him down and stamp on him.

LADY WANLEY.

My dear Lewis, how nice and unchristian of you! I always said you were just the right sort of saint for me.

MRS. WITHERS.

Wouldn’t you like to come away now, my dear?

ROSIE.

Oh yes, I feel I want to hide myself.

LADY WANLEY.

Good-bye darling, don’t take it too much to heart. [_The_ WITHERS, ABBOTT, _and_ ROSIE _shake hands with_ HOLLAND _and_ LADY WANLEY, _and go out_.] Did you ever hear anything so fiendish? Oh, if I could only make that woman suffer as she’s made poor little Rosie suffer. [_Suddenly_ LADY WANLEY _gets an idea. She leans forward._] Ambrose.

HOLLAND.

What’s the matter?

LADY WANLEY.

I’ve got it.

HOLLAND.

What d’you mean?

LADY WANLEY.

One of these days Mrs. Jennings will give her eyes not to have insulted that poor child. I’m going to give her a lesson that she’ll never forget.

HOLLAND.

She deserves pretty well anything that your feminine spite can suggest.

LADY WANLEY.

I can do nothing without you, Ambrose.

HOLLAND.

Don’t ask me to do anything very disreputable.

LADY WANLEY.

I’ve got her in the hollow of my hand, Ambrose.

HOLLAND.

Well?

LADY WANLEY.

Don’t you remember that story Adrian von Bremer told us about the _attaché_? Let’s try it on Mrs. Jennings.

HOLLAND.

But....

LADY WANLEY.

Oh, don’t make any objections. You _must_ remember. He introduced his valet to a woman as a foreign nobleman of sorts.

HOLLAND.

I’m bound to say I thought it a very silly trick.

LADY WANLEY.

I have no patience with you. Think how exactly the punishment fits the crime. What a triumph it would be if we got Mrs. Parker-Jennings to take to her bosom....

HOLLAND.

Who?

LADY WANLEY.

Your friend the waiter. I’m sure he’ll do it if you ask him. He’ll look upon it as an adventure.

HOLLAND.

I don’t think he’d do it. He’s an odd fellow.

LADY WANLEY.

Oh, but ask him. There can be no harm in that.

HOLLAND.

It’s all very well. But one has to consider the possible complications.

LADY WANLEY.

There can’t be any complications. We only want to punish an insolent snob who’s wantonly insulted a woman who never hurt a fly in her life.

[JACK STRAW _comes up to their table_.

JACK STRAW.

Have you done with the Benedictine, sir?

LADY WANLEY.

Mr. Straw, will you do something for me?

JACK STRAW.

Anything in the world, madam.

LADY WANLEY.

Mr. Holland tells me you’re a man of spirit.

JACK STRAW.

Pray tell Mr. Holland he’s a man of discernment.

LADY WANLEY.

Are you ready still for any adventure that comes your way?

JACK STRAW.

So long as I can do it with clean hands.

LADY WANLEY.

Dear me.

JACK STRAW.

I daresay your ladyship thinks it odd that a waiter should have susceptibilities.

HOLLAND.

Let me tell you at once that I highly disapprove of Lady Wanley’s idea.

JACK STRAW.

Then pray let me hear it. You always disapprove of everything that is not hopelessly commonplace.

LADY WANLEY.

You told us just now that you were only temporarily engaged here.

JACK STRAW.

Quite right, madam.

LADY WANLEY.

You see those people over there--two women and three men?

JACK STRAW.

The elder lady was so amiable as to call me a dirty foreigner.

LADY WANLEY.

They’re the worst sort of _parvenus_. I think they’re the greatest snobs in London. I have a little grudge against them.

JACK STRAW.

Yes?

LADY WANLEY.

[_Slightly embarrassed._] I want to introduce you to them--as a foreign nobleman.

JACK STRAW.

[_Giving her a searching look._] Why?

PARKER-JENNINGS.

[_Loudly._] Waiter.

LADY WANLEY.

It would amuse me to see them fawn upon you.

[_A pause._

JACK STRAW.

No, I’m afraid I can’t do that.

LADY WANLEY.

[_Frigidly._] Then we’ll say no more about it.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

[_Loudly._] Waiter.

JACK STRAW.

[_Going to him._] Yes, sir.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

Why the devil don’t you hurry up. I’ve called three times.

JACK STRAW.

[_Blandly._] I’m very sorry, sir. I was engaged at another table.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

You seem to think you can keep me waiting all day. I suppose that’s why you’re called a waiter.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Robert, don’t make jokes with menials.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

I’ve got a good mind to report you to the management.

ETHEL.

Papa, he came as quickly as he could.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

This coffee’s disgusting. I don’t know what you make it out of. It tastes like ditchwater.

JACK STRAW.

I’m very sorry, sir. Let me get you some more.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

And look sharp about it, or you’ll find yourself decorated with an order you don’t know in your country.

JACK STRAW.

I beg your pardon, sir?

PARKER-JENNINGS.

The order of the boot.

VINCENT.

I can’t think why they don’t have English waiters in a smart hotel like this instead of these damned foreigners.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

Now then, look slippy.

[JACK STRAW _has fixed his eyes on_ ETHEL. _She has been looking down. She gives him a glance. He takes the coffee things and gives them to another waiter._

ETHEL.

[_Her voice trembling with indignation._] How can you talk like that to a man who can’t defend himself! It’s so cowardly to insult a servant who daren’t answer.

VINCENT.

I should think not indeed. I should like to see any servant answer me.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

You never ’ave learnt ’ow to treat servants, Ethel. You always talk to them as if they was one of ourselves. I wish you could take a leaf out of Vincent’s book. Treat ’em like dirt, and they’ll respect you.

[JACK STRAW, _having given instructions to the waiter, goes to_ HOLLAND _and_ LADY WANLEY.

JACK STRAW.

I’m willing to do what you asked me to.

HOLLAND.

Why have you changed your mind?

JACK STRAW.

To tell you the truth I’m perfectly indifferent to the rudeness and the vulgarity of your friends, but I think I should like to know that young lady.

HOLLAND.

Would you, by Jove!

JACK STRAW.

When her father insulted me, the most ravishing colour came into her pale cheeks, and she looked at me with the most beautiful eyes in the world. And they were veiled with tears.

LADY WANLEY.

And is that enough to make you change your mind?

HOLLAND.

Fortunately Mr. Straw is not in the habit of falling in love, or I should refuse to hear anything more of this cracked-brained scheme.

LADY WANLEY.

When will you be ready?

JACK STRAW.

I’m ready now. It’s three o’clock, and Pierre is waiting in the basement to put on this uniform.

LADY WANLEY.

We couldn’t find a better place than this to effect an introduction.

JACK STRAW.

Give me two minutes to change my clothes, and I am at your service.

LADY WANLEY.

You have indeed an adventurous spirit.

JACK STRAW.

But I must make one condition--two, in fact.

LADY WANLEY.

What are they?

JACK STRAW.

Well, although you have glided over the point with singular discretion, it is plain that you do not want me to assume a certain character merely in order to enjoy a private snigger at the expense of these amiable people.

LADY WANLEY.

I don’t think I know what you mean?

JACK STRAW.

Madam, it is always dangerous to count too much on the stupidity of one’s fellows. We shall arrange this matter much better if you realise that I’m a person of some shrewdness.

HOLLAND.

Go on.

JACK STRAW.

It is evident that you wish these good folk to take me to their bosom in order that you may have the opportunity of telling them one day that I’m merely an impostor.

LADY WANLEY.

I really hadn’t thought about that.

JACK STRAW.

I venture to suspect that you rate your intelligence too low.

LADY WANLEY.

Well, what is your condition?

JACK STRAW.

The position will be very humiliating to me. For all I know it may bring me into uncomfortable relations with the police.

HOLLAND.

I think the whole plan had better be dropped. It will lead to endless bother.

JACK STRAW.

I have no wish to drop it. You want to revenge yourself on some people who have insulted you. I, for reasons of my own, am willing to help. But I make the condition that you do not disclose the truth till I give you leave. I promise not to withhold it unreasonably.

LADY WANLEY.

I accept that. And the second condition?

JACK STRAW.

Is very easy. I insist that you should behave towards me, whether we’re alone or in public, as you naturally would if I were really the individual I propose to personate.

LADY WANLEY.

That’s only fair. Now who can we suggest that you should be?

HOLLAND.

You’d better try and invent some character who you’re quite sure doesn’t exist.

LADY WANLEY.

We want something very extravagant and high-sounding.

JACK STRAW.

Pray do not put yourselves to the trouble of thinking. You will introduce me to your friends as the Archduke Sebastian of Pomerania.

HOLLAND.

What!

LADY WANLEY.

But that’s a real person!

JACK STRAW.

To invent an imaginary one would be ridiculous. Your friends would only need to look in the Almanack de Gotha to discover the fraud.

LADY WANLEY.

But Count von Bremer was talking to us about him just now. The Archduke Sebastian is the man who mysteriously disappeared.

JACK STRAW.

It’s because his whereabouts are unknown that he’s the safest person to choose.

HOLLAND.

You would never be able to pass yourself off for an Archduke.

JACK STRAW.

Strange as it may seem to you, a royal prince eats, drinks, breathes, and behaves generally very much like men of baser clay.

LADY WANLEY.

You’d be found out in a week.

JACK STRAW.

But how do you know I’m not the Archduke Sebastian?

HOLLAND.

[_With a scornful laugh._] You look it.

LADY WANLEY.

But you’d want a suite and all sorts of things.

JACK STRAW.

The man is notoriously eccentric. I think it very likely that the company of a stuffy old Colonel of Dragoons would bore him to death.

HOLLAND.

It’s preposterous.

JACK STRAW.

You may either take it or leave it. I will be the Archduke Sebastian or nobody.

LADY WANLEY.

After all, Mrs. Jennings will probably never have heard of this trumpery Archduke.

JACK STRAW.

And if she has, what more probable than that, having had enough of retirement, he should enter once more upon the position which is his by rights?

LADY WANLEY.

[_Looking at_ HOLLAND.] It makes the joke infinitely better.

JACK STRAW.

You must make up your minds at once.

LADY WANLEY.

Ambrose, let’s toss. Heads it is, and tails it isn’t.

HOLLAND.

All right. [_He tosses a coin._] Tails.

LADY WANLEY.

I said, tails it is, didn’t I?... I’m willing to risk it.

JACK STRAW.

Give me two minutes.

[_He goes out._

HOLLAND.

Heaven only knows what will be the end of it.

[LORD SERLO _comes up to them_.

SERLO.

Hello, Ambrose. How’s life? How d’ye do?

LADY WANLEY.

What have you been doing?

SERLO.

I’ve been lettin’ Jennings’ Patent Hardware stand me a lunch. My word, that old woman’s so vulgar she just about takes the roof of your head off.

HOLLAND.

Why do you lunch with people you thoroughly despise?

SERLO.

Despise ’em! I don’t despise people who’ve got eighty thousand a year. They’re trying to hook me for their girl.

HOLLAND.

And are you proposing to--throw yourself away?

SERLO.

She’s a very neat-steppin’ little filly--swallowed a poker in her childhood--regrettable accident in the nursery, don’t you know, but sound in wind and limb and all that sort of thing.

LADY WANLEY.

I admire your romantic air.

SERLO.

Whoever talked of romance? There’s half a million down on one side and an old-established marquisate on the other.

HOLLAND.

When is the happy event to take place?

SERLO.

Well, as soon as we can get over a triflin’ impediment.

LADY WANLEY.

What’s that?

SERLO.

Well, the filly’s kicking. Have to put a red ribbon on her tail, don’t you know.

LADY WANLEY.

She’s refusing the coronet you lay at her feet?

SERLO.

Won’t touch it with the fag end of a barge pole. I was sittin’ next to her at lunch, and she simply turned her back on me--no mistakin’ it, don’t you know. Wouldn’t let me get a word in edgeways. Mother’s all over me, father’s all over me, son’s all over me. What’s the good of that? Can’t marry them. Rotten, I call it. Came over here to have a bit of a rest.

LADY WANLEY.

[_Laughing._] And how d’you like Vincent?

SERLO.

Rotten bounder. Can’t stick him at any price, knows too many lords for me. When he’s my brother-in-law--hoof him out, don’t you know--double quick march. Pretty Polly’s all very well but I’m not takin’ her family. Can’t do it for half a million, don’t you know. Must be practical.

[VINCENT _comes up to them_.

VINCENT.

How d’you do, Lady Wanley? I saw you driving with Lady Mary Ware yesterday. Such a nice girl, isn’t she? I suppose you know her brother Tregury, don’t you? Great pal of mine at Oxford.

LADY WANLEY.

He’s my second cousin, Mr. Jennings, and he pronounces his name Tregary.

VINCENT.

Oh yes, of course. I always used to call him Tregury for fun.

LADY WANLEY.

Did you?

HOLLAND.

You have a very keen sense of humour.

VINCENT.

I was just having an argument with the mater as to what relation he was to the Duke of Sherwin.

LADY WANLEY.

I’m afraid I haven’t your intimate knowledge of the peerage, but I should think the only relation they’ve had in common for the last two centuries is that lamented monarch, Charles II.

VINCENT.

[_To_ SERLO.] Nice chap, Sherwin.

SERLO.

Dunno him.

VINCENT.

Don’t you? Not know Sherwin? I must introduce you to him. I’m sure he’d like to know you. Thorough sportsman.

SERLO.

Is he?

VINCENT.

Yes, rather. I saw him looking on at a cricket match the other day. Great pal of my governor’s, you know. Thorough English gentleman.

SERLO.

They’d get on well together.

LADY WANLEY.

[_To_ HOLLAND.] Here is our friend.

JACK STRAW _comes in, hat and cane in hand. He wears a very smart suit, tail coat, grey trousers, &c._

JACK STRAW.

I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to lunch with you.

[_He shakes_ LADY WANLEY’S _hand, she slightly curtsies to him_. MRS. JENNINGS _nudges her husband, and they both stare with all their eyes_.

LADY WANLEY.

It’s very good of you to have come now, sir.

JACK STRAW.

Ah, my dear Holland, you are looking the picture of health.

HOLLAND.

It’s very kind of you, sir.

LADY WANLEY.

May I introduce Lord Serlo to you?

JACK STRAW.

[_Shaking hands with him._] How d’you do. I think your father was ambassador in Pomerania for some time.

SERLO.

Yes, he was.

HOLLAND.

[_Surprised._] How did you know that--sir?

JACK STRAW.

I remember him quite well. He used to play with me when I was a little boy. I was so sorry to hear of his death.

SERLO.

He wasn’t a bad old buffer. Kept me dooced short of money, though.

JACK STRAW.

[_Gaily._] But unless you introduce me to Lord Serlo he won’t know who on earth I am.

LADY WANLEY.

I thought every one knew, at least by sight, the--Archduke Sebastian of Pomerania.

JACK STRAW.

You talk of me as if I were a notorious character. [_Meanwhile_ VINCENT _has been making frantic signs to be introduced, coughing and shuffling on his feet_. JACK STRAW _looks at him through his eyeglass_.] Won’t you introduce your friend to me?

LADY WANLEY.

Mr. Vincent Parker-Jennings.

VINCENT.

I’m very proud and honoured to make your Royal Highness’s acquaintance.

JACK STRAW.

It’s very polite of you to say so.

VINCENT.

I’ve always had a great sympathy for Pomerania. Most wonderful country in Europe, that’s what I always say.

JACK STRAW.

I will tell my grandfather you think so. He will be pleased and flattered.

VINCENT.

I haven’t ever been there, you know, sir. But I know all about it through Adrian von Bremer.

HOLLAND.

[_Hastily._] Your ambassador lives quite near Mr. Jennings.

JACK STRAW.

Oh yes.

VINCENT.

His place marches with ours, don’t you know. He’s a great pal of my people’s. Jolly old thing, isn’t he, sir? Thorough sportsman. That’s what I call a gentleman.

JACK STRAW.

I seem to know your name so well.

LADY WANLEY.

Mr. Parker-Jennings is the great philanthropist. He’s provided books to put in all Mr. Carnegie’s free libraries.

JACK STRAW.

What a noble act. I should very much like to make his acquaintance.

VINCENT.

He’s sitting over there with my mother and sister. Shall I go and fetch him, sir?

JACK STRAW.

It’s very kind of you to take so much trouble.

HOLLAND.

[_To_ JACK STRAW _in an undertone_.] For goodness sake be careful.

JACK STRAW.

[_Putting up his eyeglass._] I beg your pardon, I did not catch what you said.... Pray repeat it.

HOLLAND.

[_Embarrassed._] It was of no consequence, sir.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

[_To_ VINCENT.] Who is he, Vincent? I saw ’er curtsey to him.

VINCENT.

Come along, pater. He wants to be introduced to you.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

I’m coming too, Vincent.

VINCENT.

Awfully jolly chap. Archduke Sebastian. What ho!

PARKER-JENNINGS.

But look here, Vincent, I don’t know how to talk to Royalty. How shall I address him?

VINCENT.

Oh, that’s all right. Say _Sir_ wherever you can slip it in and when you can’t say _Royal Highness_.

[JACK STRAW _comes forward a little with_ LADY WANLEY.

LADY WANLEY.

This is Mrs. Parker-Jennings.

JACK STRAW.

[_Shaking hands with her._] I’m delighted to make your acquaintance. [_Turning to_ PARKER-JENNINGS.] I have often heard of you, Mr.... Mr....

LADY WANLEY.

[_Prompting._] Parker-Jennings.

JACK STRAW.

[_With a relieved smile._] Mr. Parker-Jennings. I’m sure I wish we had in my country more men of your public spirit and disinterestedness.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

[_Very nervously._] I try to do my little best, you know, sir, your Royal Highness.

JACK STRAW.

Won’t you introduce me to your daughter?

PARKER-JENNINGS.

I’m sure, sir, your Royal Highness is very affable. Ethel!

[ETHEL _slowly comes forward, and curtsies_. _He looks at her steadily, takes her hand and kisses it._

VINCENT.

[_In an undertone._] What ho!

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

THE SECOND ACT

_The drawing-room at Taverner, the_ PARKER-JENNINGS’ _place in Cheshire_. _Large French windows lead out on to the garden._ MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS, _magnificently dressed, is standing in the middle of the room_. PARKER-JENNINGS _comes in, rubbing his hands_.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

The band has come, my dear, and they’re ready to start playing the moment any one turns up.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

’Ave you told ’em about the Pomeranian anthem?

PARKER-JENNINGS.

What do you think, my dear?

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

I wish you wouldn’t answer me like that. Why don’t you say yes or no? I can’t abide these city ways of yours.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

I was only being facetious, my dear.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

I should ’ave thought you’d learned by now that it’s vulgar to be funny. You’ve never ’eard a duchess make a joke, ’ave you?

VINCENT _comes in_.

VINCENT.

I’ve just been round the refreshment tents. There’s one thing, people can’t say we haven’t spread ourselves out.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

[_Rubbing his hands._] I ’aven’t spared a single expense. The band’s down from London, and the refreshments are from Gunter’s. There’s not a cigar on the place that cost less than one and six--and that’s the wholesale price.

MRS. PARKER-JENNINGS.

Oh, we’ve done it well, there’s no denying that. I’ve asked the Withers, Robert. Florrie Withers will be mad with jealousy. I shouldn’t wonder if she didn’t choke with envy when she swallowed a caviar sandwich.

PARKER-JENNINGS.

It was a rare stroke of business when we got the Archduke to come and stay.

VINCENT.

That’s through me, pater. You’d never have known him if I hadn’t been on the spot.