lam Carve, and that there must have been--er--some misapprehension,
somewhere, over that funeral.

CARVE. (Aghast.) Publicly? Why?

EBAG. It's like this, I've been selling those pictures to Texel in New
York. You remember, he's always been one of your principal collectors.
He's getting old, and he's half-blind, but he still buys. Now, I rely on
my judgment, and I guaranteed those pictures to be genuine Carves.
Well, somebody over there must have had suspicions.

CARVE. What does that matter? There isn't a date on any of them.

EBAG. Just so. But in one of those pictures there's most distinctly a
taxi-cab. It isn't a private motor car. It's a taxi.

CARVE. And if there is? No law against painting a taxi, I hope!

EBAG. (Again quietly dramatic.) No. But at the date of your funeral
there wasn't a single taxi on the streets of London.

CARVE. The devil!

EBAG. Exactly. Texel is bringing an action against me for
misrepresentation. I shall have to ask you to give evidence and say who
you are.

CARVE. (Angrily.) But I won't give evidence! You've brought this on
yourself. How much did you sell those little pictures for?

EBAG. Oh, an average of between four and five hundred.

CARVE. And what did you pay for them? I ask you, what did you pay for
them?

EBAG. (Smoothly.) Four pounds a piece. The fact is--I did rather well
out of them.

CARVE. Damned Jew!

EBAG. (Smoothly.) Damned--possibly. Jew--most decidedly. But in this
particular instance I behaved just like a Christian. I paid a little
less than I was asked, and sold for the highest I could get. I am
perfectly innocent, and my reputation is at stake.

CARVE. I don't care.

EBAG. But I do. It's the reputation of the greatest expert in Europe.
And I shall have to insist on you going into the witness-box.

CARVE. (Horrified.) Me in the witness-box! Me cross-examined! No.
That's always been my nightmare!

EBAG. Nevertheless--

CARVE. Please go. (Commandingly.) Please go.

(EBAG, intimidated by CARVE'S demeanour, picks up his pictures
to depart.)

EBAG. (At door.) Your wife will perhaps be good enough to post me a
receipt for that trifle. (Very respectfully.) Good-morning.

(Exit, R.)

(CARVE goes to door, L., and opens it. JANET is standing
behind it.)

(Enter JANET.)

CARVE. You've been listening?

JANET. (Counting her banknotes.) Well, naturally! (Putting notes in
her purse.)

CARVE. Here's a perfect Hades of