I dare say not. I made use of the time in paying court to that little hump-backed niece of the mayor’s, who has so much weight with him. She’s his right hand, just as the bailiff’s his left. Don’t misunderstand me! I didn’t say pleasant things to her directly, except for a compliment on her hair, which is red, as you know. I only said a few things, that pleased her, about you. CLARA. About me? LEONARD. Yes, why should I keep it back? It was all done with the best intentions. You talk as if I had never been in earnest about you, as if---- Enough! That affair lasted till I’d got _this_ in my hand, and she’ll know which way I meant it, the credulous little man-mad fool, when she hears the banns read in church. CLARA. Leonard! LEONARD. Child! Child! Just you be as harmless as a dove, and I’ll be as wise as a serpent. Then we shall fulfil the words of the Gospel, for man and wife are but one. (_He laughs._) And it wasn’t altogether an accident either, that young Herrmann was drunk at the most important moment of his life. I’m sure you never heard that he went in for boozing! CLARA. Not a word. LEONARD. That made it all the easier. Three glasses did it. Two chums of mine went up to him and clapped him on the back. “Can we congratulate you?” “Not yet.” “Oh, but it’s all settled beforehand. Your uncle----” And then--“drink, pretty creature, drink!” When I was on my way here this morning, he was standing by the river looking gloomily over the parapet of the bridge. I grinned and nodded, and asked him whether he’d dropped anything into the water. “Yes,” said he, without looking up, “and perhaps it’s as well for me to jump in after it.” CLARA. You wretch! Get out of my sight! LEONARD. Yes? (_Pretending to go._) CLARA. O my God, and I am chained to this man! LEONARD. Don’t be childish. Just one word more in confidence. Has your father still got that two hundred pounds with the apothecary? CLARA. I know nothing about it. LEONARD. You know nothing about so important a matter? CLARA. Here comes father. LEONARD. You understand, the apothecary is supposed to be going bankrupt. That’s why I asked. CLARA. I must go into the kitchen. (_Goes._) LEONARD (_alone_). In that case there’s nothing to be got here. I can well believe it, for, if an extra letter happened to get on old Anthony’s gravestone by mistake, his ghost would walk till it was scratched out. That’s the sort of man he is. He’d think it dishonest to own more of the alphabet than was due to him. SCENE 5 _Enter_ ANTHONY. ANTHONY. Good morning, Mr. Cashier. (_Takes his hat off and puts on a woollen cap._) Will you allow an old man to keep his head covered? LEONARD. You’ve heard, then---- ANTHONY.