BAXTER. I am progressing, Mrs. Tremayne. Indeed, I came here this morning to acquaint you with the results of my investigations. (_Clears his throat_.) Yesterday I located a man called Robinson working upon a farm close by. I ventured to ask him if he had any marks upon him by which he could be recognized. He adopted a threatening attitude, and replied that if I wanted any he could give me some. With the aid of half-a-crown I managed to placate him. Putting my inquiry in another form, I asked if he had any moles. A regrettable misunderstanding, which led to a fruitless journey to another part of the village, was eventually cleared up, and on my return I satisfied myself that this man was in no way related to your niece.
BELINDA (_admiringly_). How splendid of you!
BELINDA. Well, now, we know _he's_ not. (_She holds up one finger_.)
BAXTER. Yes. In the afternoon I located another Mr. Robinson following the profession of a carrier. My first inquiries led to a similar result, with the exception that in this case Mr. Robinson carried his threatening attitude so far as to take off his coat and roll up his sleeves. Perceiving at once that he was not the man, I withdrew.
BELINDA (_holding up another finger_). It still leaves a good many. (_Pleadingly_.) Just call me Belinda again.
BAXTER (_rising and backing to_ R. _a little, nervously_). You mustn't tempt me, Mrs. Tremayne.
BAXTER (_going slowly to fireplace and placing his hat down on armchair below fireplace_). To resume, then, my narrative. This morning I have heard of a third Mr. Robinson. Whether there is actually any particular fortune attached to the number three I cannot say for certain. It is doubtful whether statistics would be found to support the popular belief. But one likes to flatter oneself that in one's own case it may be true; and so--
BELINDA. And so the third Mr. Robinson--?
BAXTER. Something for which I cannot altogether account inspires me with hope. He is, I have discovered, staying at Mariton. This afternoon I go to look for him.
BELINDA (_to herself_). Mariton! How funny! I wonder if it's the same one.
BELINDA. Oh, just one of the ones. (_Gratefully_.) Mr. Baxter, you are doing all this for _me_.
BAXTER. Pray do not mention it. I don't know if it's Devonshire (_going to and sitting_ L. _of_ BELINDA), or the time of the year, or the sort of atmosphere you create, Mrs. Tremayne, but I feel an entirely different man. There is something in the air which--yes, I shall certainly go over to Mariton this afternoon.
