BAXTER. Yes. _Mr_. Robinson. BELINDA. Oh, you mean--(_Points to direction when TREMAYNE has gone_.) Oh yes, he told me his name was Robinson--Oh, but he's no relation. BAXTER. Wait! I saw his arm. By a subterfuge I managed to see his arm. BELINDA (_her eyes opening more and more widely as she begins to realize_). You saw-- BAXTER. I saw the mole. BELINDA (_coming down to him faintly as she holds out her own arm_). Show me. BAXTER (_very decorously indicating_). There! (BELINDA _holds the place with her other hand, and still looking at_ MR. BAXTER, _slowly begins to laugh--half-laughter, half-tears, wonderingly, happily, contentedly_.) BELINDA (_moving to_ R. _of table and sitting_). And I didn't know! BAXTER (_moving to back of table_). Mrs. Tremayne, I am delighted to have done this service for your niece---- BELINDA (_to herself_). Of course, _he_ knew all the time. BAXTER (_to the world_). Still more am I delighted to have gained the victory over Mr. Devenish in this enterprise. BELINDA. Eighteen years--but I _ought_ to have known. BAXTER (_at large_). I shall not be accused of exaggerating when I say that the odds against such an enterprise were enormous. BELINDA. Eighteen years---- And now I've eight whole _hours_ to wait! BAXTER (_triumphantly_). It will be announced to-night. "Mr. Devenish," I shall say, "young fellow----" (_He arranges his speech in his mind_.) BELINDA (_nodding to herself mischievously_). So I was right, after all! (_Slowly and triumphantly_.) He _does_ look better without a beard! BAXTER (_with his hand on the back of the chair on the_ L. _side of the table_). "Mr. Devenish, young fellow, when you matched yourself against a man of my repute, when you matched yourself against a man-- matched yourself against a man of my repute (_crossing towards fireplace_) (BELINDA _rises stealthily, takes up her hat and exits through the swing doors and through the garden up_ R.) when you matched yourself against a man who has read papers (_moving towards centre table_) at Soirees of the Royal Statistical Society----" (_Looking round the room, he discovers that he is alone. He picks up his hat from the table and jams it down on his head_.) Unusual! (_He moves up towards the swing doors_.) CURTAIN. ACT III _It is after dinner in BELINDA'S hall. The log fire, chandelier and wall brackets are all alight_. BELINDA _is lying on the Chesterfield with a coffee-cup in her hand_. DELIA, _in the chair down_ L. _below the fireplace, has picked up "The Lute of Love" from a table and is reading it impatiently. She also has a coffee-cup in her hand_. DELIA (_throwing the book away_). What rubbish he writes! BELINDA (_coming back from her thoughts_). Who, dear? DELIA. Claude (BELINDA _gives her a quick look of surprise_.) --Mr. Devenish. (_She rises and stands by the fireplace with her cup in her hand_.) Of course, he's very young. BELINDA. So was Keats, darling.