DOCTOR. [_With a certain dignity, his social type shining through his profession._] Mr. Carleon, you will forgive an old man, who knew your father well, if he doubts whether you are doing yourself justice in treating yourself as an American Indian, merely because you have lived in America. In my old friend Huxley's time we of the middle classes disbelieved in reason and all sorts of things. But we did believe in good manners. It is a pity if the aristocracy can't. I don't like to hear you say you are a savage and have buried a tomahawk. I would rather hear you say, as your Irish ancestors would have said, that you have sheathed your sword with the dignity proper to a gentleman. MORRIS. Very well. I've sheathed my sword with the dignity proper to a gentleman. CONJURER. And I have sheathed my sword with the dignity proper to a conjurer. MORRIS. How does the Conjurer sheath a sword? CONJURER. Swallows it. DOCTOR. Then we all agree there shall be no quarrel. SMITH. May I say a word? I have a great dislike of a quarrel, for a reason quite beyond my duty to my cloth. MORRIS. And what is that? SMITH. I object to a quarrel because it always interrupts an argument. May I bring you back for a moment to the argument? You were saying that these modern conjuring tricks are simply the old miracles when they have once been found out. But surely another view is possible. When we speak of things being sham, we generally mean that they are imitations of things that are genuine. Take that Reynolds over there of the Duke's great-grandfather. [_Points to a picture on the wall._] If I were to say it was a copy.... MORRIS. Wal, the Duke's real amiable; but I reckon you'd find what you call the interruption of an argument. SMITH. Well, suppose I did say so, you wouldn't take it as meaning that Sir Joshua Reynolds never lived. Why should sham miracles prove to us that real Saints and Prophets never lived. There may be sham magic and real magic also. [_The_ CONJURER _raises his head and listens with a strange air of intentness._ SMITH. There may be turnip ghosts precisely because there are real ghosts. There may be theatrical fairies precisely because there are real fairies. You do not abolish the Bank of England by pointing to a forged bank-note. MORRIS. I hope the Professor enjoys being called a forged bank-note. CONJURER. Almost as much as being called the Prospectus of some American Companies. DOCTOR. Gentlemen! Gentlemen! CONJURER. I am sorry.