Why don't you get some proper work to do?
PERKINS (good-naturedly). Now, look here, young man, this isn't the
time for that sort of talk. If you've got anything you want to get off
your chest about flunkeys or monkeys, or whatever it may be, keep it
till Sunday afternoon--when I'm off duty. (He comes a little closer to
THE STRANGER) Four o'clock Sunday afternoon--(jerking his thumb over
his shoulder)--just round the corner--in the Bolton Mews. See? Nobody
there to interrupt us. See? All quite gentlemanly and secluded, and a
friend of mine to hold the watch. See? (He edges closer as he talks.)
STRANGER (retreating nervously). No offence meant, mate. We're in the
same boat--you and me; we don't want to get fighting. My quarrel isn't
with you. You go and tell Sir John that there's a gentleman come to
see him--wants a few minutes of his valuable time--from Lambeth way.
_He'll_ know. That's all right.
PERKINS (drawing back, disappointedly). Then I shan't be seeing you
Sunday afternoon?
STRANGER (laughing awkwardly). There, that's all right. No offence
meant. Somebody from Lambeth--that's what _you've_ got to say. And
tell 'im I'm in a hurry. _He'll_ know what I mean.
PERKINS (going slowly to the door).
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