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MR. POSKET.
What, like this? [_Returning the dig._] Ch-uck.
CIS.
That's it, that's it. Ha, ha! You are going it, Guv.
MR. POSKET.
Am I, Cis? Am I? [_Waving his arm._] Hey!
CIS AND MR. POSKET.
Hey!
CIS.
Ha, ha! Come on! Serve the supper, Achille.
BLOND.
Ah! he is a grand fellow, Mr. Farringdon. [_CIS and MR. POSKET go into the other room._] [_To ISIDORE._] Replace the _canape._
[_There is a sharp knock at the other door. BLOND follows CIS and MR.
POSKET into the other room, then locks the door on the inside._
ISIDORE.
Come in, please.
_COLONEL LUKYN and CAPTAIN VALE enter the room. LUKYN is a portly, grey-haired, good-looking military man; VALE is pale-faced and heavy-eyed, while his manner is languid and dejected._
LUKYN.
This is the room. Come in, Vale. This is my old supper-room--I haven't set foot here for over twenty years. By George, I hope to sup here for another twenty.
VALE.
[_Dejectedly._] Do you? In less than that, unless I am lucky enough to fall in some foreign set-to, I shall be in Kensal Green.
LUKYN.
[_Looking round the room sentimentally._] Twenty years ago! Confound 'em, they've painted it.
VALE.
My people have eight shelves in the Catacombs at Kensal Green.
LUKYN.
Nonsense, man, nonsense. You're a little low. Waiter, take our coats.
VALE.
Don't check me, Lukyn. My shelf is four from the bottom.
LUKYN.
You'll forget the number of your shelf before you're half way through your oysters.
VALE.
[_Shaking his head._] An oyster merely reminds me of my own particular sh.e.l.l.
[_ISIDORE begins to remove VALE'S coat._
LUKYN.
Ha, ha! Ha, ha!
VALE.
Don't, Lukyn, don't. [_In an undertone to LUKYN._] It's very good of you, but, by Jove, my heart is broken. [_To ISIDORE._] Mind my flower, waiter, confound you.
[_He adjusts flower in his b.u.t.ton-hole._
ISIDORE.
You have ordered supper, sir?
LUKYN.
Yes, on the back of my note to Mr. Blond. Serve it at once.
ISIDORE.
I beg your pardon, sir, at once.
[_He goes out._
LUKYN.
So, you've been badly treated by a woman, eh, Vale?
VALE.
Shockingly. Between man and man, a Miss Verrinder--Charlotte.
[_Turning away._] Excuse me, Lukyn.
