CRAMPTON. Oh, there's a solicitor with them, is there?

WAITER. The family solicitor, sir---yes, sir. Name of McComas, sir.
(He goes towards hotel entrance with coat and stick, happily unconscious
of the bomblike effect the name has produced on Crampton.)

CRAMPTON (rising in angry alarm). McComas! (Calls to Valentine.)
Valentine! (Again, fiercely.) Valentine!! (Valentine turns.) This is
a plant, a conspiracy. This is my family---my children--my infernal
wife.

VALENTINE (coolly). On, indeed! Interesting meeting! (He resumes
his study of the menu.)

CRAMPTON. Meeting! Not for me. Let me out of this. (Calling to
the waiter.) Give me that coat.

WAITER. Yes, sir. (He comes back, puts Valentine's stick carefully
down against the luncheon table; and delicately shakes the coat out and
holds it for Crampton to put on.) I seem to have done the young
gentleman an injustice, sir, haven't I, sir.

CRAMPTON. Rrrh! (He stops on the point of putting his arms into the
sleeves, and turns to Valentine with sudden suspicion.) Valentine: you
are in this. You made this plot. You---

VALENTINE (decisively). Bosh! (He throws the menu down and goes
round the table to look out unconcernedly over the parapet.)

CRAMPTON (angrily). What d'ye--- (McComas, followed by Philip and