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.
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