Ste. Then he gets their letter. Sees they're ready to lose their tennis courts. All right, says he, if they're a slack back set of weaklings to propose that of themselves, I shan't have any trouble in getting shut of them altogether. Their rents aren't worth having. But the company's offer's a sound ready cash affair. He's a bit short of the ready, isn't he? Bam. Aye. Above a bit. Ste. So when he sees they'll shift without trouble, being weak enough to offer a compromise before they're even asked for one, he'll take a flying jump at our offer, and there you are. And a good afternoon's work I call it. Bam. Verity, I apologize. You're the dandiest schemer I ever saw, and I've seen some warm members in my time. Ste. Well, they sent for me. I didn't think this out. I just saw the chance while I was there. Smiths. You don't let much pass you, Verity. Ste. I take my brains along when I go calling of an afternoon on my swell friends. I'd like to bet that letter Alcorn's fetching says "Yes" to our offer. Bam. It's odds on, or I'd take you. (_Maid announces Mr. Walter Montgomery. Enter Walter. Exit Maid._) Ste. Hullo! Oh, damn! Walter (_r. c._). Good evening, Mr. Verity. Good evening. I hope I don't interrupt business. Ste. Young man, you appear to have a lot of time on your hands. Walter. It's an important part of my business to visit my parishioners, Mr. Verity. Ste. Humph! Our turn for your parochial attentions soon comes round again. You were here a week ago. Walter. On my own business that time, sir. Ste. What is it this time? Walter. You're sure I'm not interrupting you? Ste. I'm sure you are. Go on. Walter. I've come to put you on your guard. You led me to suppose, and I in turn told Mr. Vining, that the town authorities were proposing to buy the Polygon. Ste. And aren't they? Walter. As an Alderman you ought to know that better than I do. Ste. Never mind what I know. The question is, what do you know? Walter. Oh, we fellows who go into the Church don't know much. You told me yourself we go there because we're chicken-hearted fools without an ounce of sense or fight in us. Bam. Can't you make him cut the cackle, Verity? Walter. Cackling's a professional failing, Mr. Bamford. We get the talking habit in the pulpit. Bam. You're not in the pulpit now. Walter. No, sir. In the pulpit I'm in good company--my own. Bam. What the---- Walter. In this room I'm in the company of certain members of a rascally syndicate who hope to buy the Polygon cheap from Sir Charles and sell dear to the town when they've carefully engineered a public demand. Smiths. Who told you? Ste. Tch, Smithson! Where the devil did you raise this cock and bull story? Walter. Oh, I don't think it was the devil. On the _contrary_, in fact, Mr. Verity. Ste. Come to facts. Walter. Facts? Shall I give you names? (_Strolls round back to fireplace._) I regret the absence of Mr. Alcorn and Miss Verity, but--well, gentlemen, you're found out.