SCOE. (With fierce sarcasm.) One of those cheap German watches, I
suppose, that stop when you don't wind them up! It's a singular thing
that when people stay up all night they take it for granted their
watches are just as excited as they are. Look here, you'll be collapsing
soon. When did you have anything to eat last?

CARVE. Almost half an hour ago. Two sausages that were sent in yesterday
for the nurse.

PASCOE. She's gone?

CARVE. Oh yes.

PASCOE. Well, take my advice. Try to get some sleep now. You've had no
reply from the relatives--the auctioneer cousin--what's his Christian
name--Cyrus?

CARVE. No, I--I didn't telegraph--I forgot----

PASCOE. Well, upon my soul! I specially reminded you yesterday
afternoon.

CARVE. I didn't know the address.

PASCOE. Ever heard of the London Directory? You'd better run out and
wire instantly. You don't seem to realize that the death of a man like
Ilam Carve will make something of a stir in the world. And you may
depend on it that whether they'd quarrelled or not, Cyrus Carve will
want to know why he wasn't informed of the illness at once. You've let
yourself in for a fine row, and well you deserve it.

CARVE. (After a few paces.) See here, doctor. I'm afraid there's been
some mistake. (Facing him nervously.)

PASCOE. What?

CARVE. I--I----

(Bell rings.)

PASCOE. (Firmly.) Listen to me, my man. There's been no sort of
mistake. Everything has been done that could be done. Don't you get
ideas into your head. Lie down and rest. You're done up, and if you
aren't careful you'll be ill. I'll communicate with Cyrus Carve. I can
telephone, and while I'm about it I'll ring up the registrar too--he'll
probably send a clerk round.

CARVE. Registrar?

PASCOE. Registrar of deaths. There'll be all kinds of things to attend
to. (Moving to go out.)

(Bell rings again.)

CARVE. (As if dazed.) Is that the front door bell?

PASCOE. (Drily.) Quite possibly! I'll open it.

(Exit.)

(CARVE, alone, makes a gesture of despair. Re-enter PASCOE with
CYRUS CARVE.)

PASCOE. (As they enter.) Yes, very sudden, very sudden. There were
three of us--a nurse, my assistant, and myself. This is Mr. Shawn, the
deceased's valet.

CYRUS. Morning. (Looks round at disorder of room contemptuously.)
Pigstye!... My name is Cyrus Carve. I'm your late master's cousin and
his only relative. You've possibly never heard of me.

CARVE. (Curtly.) Oh yes, I have! You got