[MANSON has tapped his ear, peremptorily: he fixes his ear-trumpet.]

MANSON. I bear you a message from the master of this house. Leave
it.

BISHOP. Really, I . . . . . . . Most extraordinary! Hm!

[He blows down the ear-trumpet, and afterwards wipes it very
carefully with his handkerchief. MANSON stands, as though carven
in marble, waiting for him to fix it again.]

Now: again, please.

MANSON. You are no longer necessary. Leave this house.

BISHOP. You scoundrel! You impudent scoundrel! You . . .
You . . .

Give me back my five-pound note!

MANSON [pointing to the fire]. It is invested for you.

BISHOP. I will have it back at once!

MANSON. Hereafter, was the arrangement.

BISHOP. Mr. Smythe! Where are you? Do you hear what this
blackguard says?

VICAR. I endorse it, every word.