mours _do_ get abroad! Here _is_ Mr. Sampson Straight. I'm _so_ glad
you've come, because you've always wanted to meet him in the flesh.

TRANTO (_to_ Straight). Are you Sampson Straight?

STRAIGHT. I am, sir.

TRANTO. The Sampson Straight who lives in Cornwall?

STRAIGHT. Just so.

TRANTO. Impossible!

STRAIGHT. Pardon me. One moment. I was told there was a danger of my
being inconvenienced in London by one of these military raids for
rounding up slackers, and as I happen to have a rather youthful
appearance, I took the precaution of bringing with me my
birth-certificate and registration card. (_Produces them_.)

TRANTO (_glancing at the card_). And it's really you who write those
brilliant articles in _The Echo_?

STRAIGHT. 'Brilliant'--I won't say. But I do write them.

TRANTO. Well, this is the most remarkable instance of survival after
death that I ever came across.

STRAIGHT. I beg your pardon.

TRANTO. You're dead, my fine fellow. Your place isn't here. You ought to
be in the next world. You're a humbug.

STRAIGHT (_to_ Mrs. Culver). I'm not quite sure that I understand. Will
you kindly introduce me?

MRS. CULVER. I'm so sorry. This is Mr. Tranto, proprietor and editor of
_The Echo_--(_apologetically, with an uneasy smile_) a great humourist.

STRAIGHT (_thunderstruck; aside_). Well, I'm damned! (_His whole
demeanour changes. Nevertheless, while tacitly admitting that he is
found out, he at once resumes his mild calmness. To_ Culver.) I've just
remembered an appointment of vital importance. I'm afraid our little
talk about the syndicate must be adjourned.

CULVER. I feared you might have to hurry away.

(Straight _bows as a preliminary to departure_.)

(John, _deeply humiliated, averts his glance from everybody_.)

TRANTO. Here! But you can't go off like this.

STRAIGHT. Why? Have you anything against me?

TRANTO. Nothing (_casually_) except that you're an impostor.

STRAIGHT. I fail to see it.

TRANTO. But haven't you just said that you write those articles in my
paper?

STRAIGHT. Oh! _That_! Well, of course, if I'd known who you were I
shouldn't have dreamed of saying any such thing. I always try to suit my
talk to my company.

TRANTO. This time you didn't quite bring it off.

STRAIGHT. Perhaps I owe you some slight explanation (_looking round
blandly_).

CULVER. Do you really think so?

STRAIGHT. The explanation is simplicity itself. (_A sudden impulse_.)
Nothing but that. P