All right, all right! You can go now—[touching Rapkin, who seems spellbound with fear of Fakrash]—both of you. I've some business to settle with this—gentleman.
Mrs. Rapkin.
[At door.] I'm going.
Rapkin.
[As he follows, still keeping his eyes on Fakrash.] 'E's done it, Marire—sold 'isself, 'e 'as! Ah! [As he goes out with Mrs. Rapkin.] I wouldn't be in his shoes for somethink!
[The moment they have gone Horace rushes to the door, opens it to make sure that they are not listening outside, then locks it, and comes down to Fakrash in a white rage.
Horace.
Now then, you—you unspeakable old swine! What do you mean by bringing me here like this?
Fakrash.
[Crossing to the right.] Verily I was tempted to drop thee in mid-air, forgetting my purpose.