(getting up). Yes, I'll come. (To TREMAYNE.) You'll forgive me, won't you? You'll find some cigarettes there. (She starts to go, but comes back and adds confidentially) It's probably about the lamb cutlets; I expect your little one refuses to be cooked.
[She goes out after BETTY.]
(Left alone, TREMAYNE stalks moodily about the room, occasionally kicking things which come in his way. He takes up his hat suddenly and goes towards the door; stops irresolutely and comes back. He is standing in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets when DEVENISH comes in from the door on the left.)
DEVENISH (surprised). Hullo!
TREMAYNE Hullo! ... Are you Mr. Devenish?
DEVENISH. Yes.
TREMAYNE. Devenish the poet?
DEVENISH (coming up and shaking him warmly by the hand). My dear fellow, you know my work?
TREMAYNE (grimly). My dear Mr. Devenish, your name is most familiar to me.
DEVENISH. I congratulate you. I thought your great-grandchildren would be the first to hear of me.
TREMAYNE. My name's Robinson, by the way.
DEVENISH. Then let me return the compliment, Robinson. Your name is familiar to _me_.
TREMAYNE (hastily). I don't think I'm related to any Robinsons you know.
DEVENISH. Well, no, I suppose not. When I was very much younger I began a collection of Robinsons. Actually it was only three days ago, but it seems much longer. Many things have happened since then.
TREMAYNE (uninterested). Really!
DEVENISH. There is a man called Baxter who is still collecting, I believe. For myself, I am only interested in one of the great family--Delia.
TREMAYNE (eagerly). You are interested in _her_?
DEVENISH. Devotedly. In fact, I am at this moment waiting for her to put on her hat.
TREMAYNE (warmly). My dear Devenish, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. (He seizes his hand and grips it heartily.) How are you?
DEVENISH (feeling his fingers). Fairly well, thanks.
TREMAYNE. That's right. (They sit on the sofa together.)
DEVENISH (still nursing his hand). You are a very lucky fellow, Robinson.
TREMAYNE. In what way?
DEVENISH. People you meet must be so very reluctant to say good-bye to you. Have you ever tried strangling lions or anything like that?
TREMAYNE (with a laugh). Well, as a matter of fact, I have.
DEVENISH. I suppose you won all right?
TREMAYNE. In the end, with the help of my beater.
DEVENISH. Personally I should have backed you alone against any two ordinary lions.
TREMAYNE. One was quite enough. As it was, he gave me something to remember him by. (Putting up his left sleeve, he displays a deep scar.)
DEVENISH (looking at it casually). By Jove, that's a nasty one! (He suddenly catches sight of the mole and stares at it fascinated.) Good heavens!
TREMAYNE. What's the matter?
DEVENISH (clasping his head). Wait. Let me think. (After a pause.) Have you ever met a man called Baxter?
TREMAYNE. No.
DEVENISH. Would you like to?
TREMAYNE (grimly). Very much indeed.
DEVENISH. He's the man I told you about who's interested in Robinsons. He'll be delighted to meet you. (With a nervous laugh.) Funny thing, he's rather an authority on lions. You must show him that scar of yours; it will intrigue him immensely. (Earnestly.) _Don't_ shake hands with him too heartily just at first; it might put him off the whole thing.
TREMAYNE. This Mr. Baxter seems to be a curious man.
DIVENISH (absently). Yes, he is rather odd. (Looking at his watch.) I wonder if I--(To TREMAYNE.) I suppose you won't be--(He stops suddenly. A slight tapping noise comes from the room where they keep umbrellas.)
TREMAYNE. What's that!
(The tapping noise is repeated, a little more loudly this time.)
DEVENISH. Come in.
(The door opens and BAXTER comes in nervously, holding his bowler hat in his hand.)
BAXTER. Oh, I just--(TREMAYNE _stands up)--I just--(He goes back again.)
DEVENISH (springing across the room). Baxter! (The door opens nervously again and BAXTER'S head appears round it.) Come in, Baxter, old man; you're just the very person I wanted. (BAXTER comes in carefully.) Good man. (To TREMAYNE) This is Mr. Baxter that I was telling you about.
TREMAYNE (much relieved at the appearance of his rival). Oh, is this Mr. Baxter? (Holding out his hand with great friendliness) How are you, Mr. Baxter?
DEVENISH (warningly). Steady! (TREMAYNE shakes BAXTER quite gently by the hand.) Baxter, this is Mr. Robinson. (Casually.) R-o-b-i-n- s-o-n. (He looks sideways at BAXTER to see how he takes it. BAXTER is noticeably impressed.)
BAXTER. Really? I am very glad to meet you, sir.
TREMAYNE. Very good of you to say so.
DEVENISH (to BAXTER). Robinson is a great big-game hunter.
BAXTER. Indeed? I have never done anything in that way myself, but I'm sure it must be an absorbing pursuit.
TREMAYNE. Oh, well, it's something to do.
DEVENISH (to BAXTER). You must get him to tell you about a wrestle he had with a lion once. Extraordinary story! (Looking at his watch suddenly.) Jove! I must be off. See you again, Baxter. Good-bye, Robinson. No, don't shake hands. I'm in a hurry. [He looks at his watch again and goes out hurriedly by the door on the left.]
(TREMAYNE sit down together on the sofa.)
TREMAYNE. Unusual man, your friend Devenish. I suppose it comes of being a poet.
BAXTER. I have no great liking for Mr. Devenish--
TREMAYNE. Oh, he's all right.
BAXTER. But I am sure that if he is impressed by anything outside himself or his own works, it must be something rather remarkable. Pray tell me of your adventure with the lion.
TREMAYNE (laughing). Really, you mustn't think that I go about telling everybody my adventures. It just happened to come up. I'm afraid I shook his hand rather more warmly than I meant, and he asked me if I'd ever tried strangling lions. That was all.
BAXTER. And had you?
TREMAYNE. Well, it just happened that I had.
BAXTER. Indeed! You came off scathless, I trust?
TREMAYNE (carelessly indicating his arm). Well, he got me one across there.
BAXTER (obviously excited). Really, really. One across