How did he trace you here?
O, got the address at the office. Briggs and Cater won’t let theirs be known. Not got such a smart little house, I expect.
I don’t like letting people in that you don’t know where they come from.
O, he comes from the East.
Yes, I—I know. But the East doesn’t seem quite to count, somehow, as the proper sort of place to come from, does it, dear?
It’s not like Sydenham or Bromley, some place you can put your finger on.
Perhaps just for once, I don’t think there’s any harm in him.
Well, just for once. But we can’t make a practice of it. And you don’t want to be thinking of business on a Sunday, your only day off.
O, it isn’t business, you know. He only wants to say thank you.
I hope he won’t say it in some queer Eastern way. You don’t know what these people. . . .
O, no. Show him up, Liza.
As you like, mum.
And you gave him fifty pounds?
Well, old Briggs agreed to it. So I suppose that’s what he got. Cater paid him.
It seems a lot of money. But I think, as the man is actually coming up the stairs, I’m glad he’s got something to be grateful for.
[Enter Ali, shown in by Liza.]
Protector of the Just.
O, er—yes. Good evening.
My soul was parched and you bathed it in rivers of gold.
O, ah, yes.
Wherefore the name Briggs, Cater, and Beal shall be magnified and called blessed.