Precisely. I stopped the cab and went in. I mingled with the godless throng. I even sacrificed myself so far as to speak to one or two of them. THEODORE TRAVERS. Ladies? MR. BEN DIXON. They _may_ have been. I stood them drinks--if that be the correct expression. Not to excite suspicion, I even sipped a little here and there myself. I endeavoured to acquire the spirit of the place. THEODORE TRAVERS. From all accounts, you did so to a pretty considerable extent. MR. BEN DIXON. It was necessary to my purpose. I went from bar to bar accumulating material. The case was almost complete. Thinking I had had enough--done enough for one evening, I was about to leave when somebody--who said he was a friend of mine--suggested that we should go "behind the scenes." He introduced me to a not unprepossessing young woman, whom he described as the "Female Hercules." I was on the point of putting a few questions to her, when all of a sudden a strange feeling of dizziness came over me. To save myself from falling, I flung out my arms--as any man might have done--and caught hold of the thing nearest to me. Unfortunately, it was the Hercules lady. Mistaking my action, she took me up, and, before I could explain matters, carried me out, and deposited me in the main transept. THEODORE TRAVERS. (_He again takes up the paper._) The artist represents her as assisting you by the scruff of the neck, and other things. MR. BEN DIXON. It may have been so. I was too much upset to notice details. THEODORE TRAVERS. And then the Aquarium attendants completed the business by chucking you out into the street. MR. BEN DIXON. I deny it. I was not chucked. 'They perceived that I was unwell, and led me out into the air. THEODORE TRAVERS. Where my excellent friend, the door-keeper at the Hanoverian, found you putting pennies into a life boat box and trying to get out cigarettes. Ben, that explanation's too thin. I expected something better from you. MR. BEN DIXON. You--you don't think it will do? THEODORE TRAVERS. Afraid not. MR. BEN DIXON. Perhaps you are right, Theo. The world is ever prone to think evil. THEODORE TRAVERS. Yes; you see it's had a good deal of experience, Ben. MR. BEN DIXON. Dear me, it's a very awkward affair--very awkward. Does it mention the name? THEODORE TRAVERS. No. Merely refers to you as "a certain guardian of the public morals." (_Looking at the picture again._) Hardly any need to put the name in this case. It would be an insult to the artist. MR. BEN DIXON. (_Looking over his shoulder_.) It _is_ like me. I can see that myself. THEODORE TRAVERS. They've even got your smile. MR. BEN DIXON. Don't gloat, my boy; don't gloat over it. THEODORE TRAVERS. I won't. It _is_ hard lines on you. (_Throws paper down on easy-chair._) What will you do? MR. BEN DIXON. I don't know. I must think. I wonder if your stepmother's seen it? THEODORE TRAVERS. Some friend of yours will send it to her, you bet. MR. BEN DIXON.