Old Wackerbath? Oh, no; he's much too solid to vanish—he's only a trifle late!
Pringle.
I shouldn't make too sure of him.
Horace.
[Listening.] I fancy he's coming upstairs now. [Rises and goes to door at back, then stops with a sudden recollection.] Unless it's the other one!
Pringle.
The other one? So you've two clients!
Horace.
No, only one. The other—isn't a client. [Half to himself, as he comes down.] Awkward if they happened to meet! I never thought of that! [There is a loud knock at the door to staircase.] Well, here's one of 'em, anyhow! Come in! [Mr. Wackerbath opens the door, and stands on the threshold, breathing hard, and purple and speechless with rage. Horace goes towards him.] It is Mr. Wackerbath! How do you do? [Pleasantly.] I was beginning to be afraid——[He notices Mr. Wackerbath's expression.] Eh? Has anything happened?
Mr. Wackerbath.