Oakhurst. Impossible! Hush! (Listening.) It is HE passing through the corridor. (Goes to wing R., and listens.)
Sandy (crowding hastily behind OAKHURST in alarm). But, I say, Jack! he won't come in here? He's goin' to bed, you know. Eh? It ain't right for a man o' his years—and he must be goin' on ninety, Jack—to be up like this. It ain't healthy.
Oakhurst. You know him not. He seems to need no rest (sadly). Night after night, long after the servants are abed, and the house is still, I hear that step slowly pacing the corridor. It is the last sound as I close my eyes, the first challenge of the morning.
Sandy. The ol' scound—(checking himself)—I mean, Jack, the ol' man has suthin' on his mind. But, Jack (in great alarm), he don't waltz in upon ye, Jack? He don't p'int them feet in yer, Jack? Ye ain't got to put up with that, Jack, along o' yer other trials?
Oakhurst. He often seeks me here. Ah—yes—he is coming this way now.
Sandy (in ludicrous terror). Jack, pard, quick I hide me somewhere, Jack!
Oakhurst (opening door R.). In there, quick! Not a sound, as you value your future! [Exit SANDY hurriedly R.
SCENE 2.—The same. Enter door R., OLD MORTON, in dressing-gown, with candle.
Old Morton. Not abed yet, Alexander? Well, well, I don't blame you, my son it has been for you a trying, trying night. Yes, I see: like me, you are a little nervous and wakeful. (Slowly takes chair, and comfortably composes himself.)
Oakhurst (aside). He is in for a midnight gossip. How shall I dispose of Sandy?