Rapkin's Voice.
[Outside door.] All right, sir! [Horace returns, goes to door at back, and unlocks it; to Rapkin, who is seen with a telegram.] What is it?
Rapkin.
[Entering.] Reply telegram, sir. [Handing it to Horace.] Boy's waiting.
Horace.
[Reading the telegram.] "Can you dine with wife and self, Savoy Hotel, 8.15 to-night? Quite small party. Could discuss plans new house. Ask for 'Pinafore' Room.—Wackerbath." Good! Wackerbath's all right, anyhow! [He pulls a chair to the table and sits down to fill up the reply form. As he does so his face suddenly clouds.] The Savoy, though! Pringle's dining there to-night.... Good Lord! I forgot all about Pringle! I wonder if Fakrash has made him forget? If he didn't, by George! there'll be a pretty kettle of fish!
Rapkin.
[Thinking he is being addressed.] Beg pardon, sir?
Horace.
Nothing—I wasn't speaking to you. [Finishes writing the form and hands it to Rapkin.] Can you read it?