MANSON. Come along, Rogers. Take that end.
[They lay the cloth, as it were with ceremonial gravity, MANSON being at the upper end of the table. They pay no heed to the others, who watch them interestedly.]
ROBERT. I could just do with a good, square feed. My work meks me ’ungry.
MANSON. Flowers, Rogers.
[ROGERS brings vase from side-board and places it on the VICAR’S side of the table. MANSON removes it to a more communal position. Presently looking up, he sees the group to his left watching him.]
Oh, beg pardon, sir: perhaps you’d like
to know—the Bishop of
Benares is here.
VICAR. What, already! Let’s have him in at once!
[MANSON deliberates with the flowers before he speaks.]
MANSON. He is here.
[The VICAR crosses towards him.]
VICAR. What do you mean? Where is he?
[MANSON looks at him over the flowers.]
[The VICAR steps back, gazing at him. After a moment he gasps.]
VICAR. In God’s name, who are you?
MANSON. In God’s Name—your brother.
[He holds out his hand. The VICAR takes it, sinking to his knees and sobbing as one broken yet healed.]
[The curtain descends slowly.]