P. Good Lord, madam—
Susan. Just keep cool now. If you once hear “Winds that Sough in the Night” you’ll want it. (Reads.) “One evening, some thirty years ago, a solitary horseman was seen winding his way over the bare, snow-clad hills as the red December sun was slowly sinking in the western horizon. As he rode along he was immersed in—”
P. (Frantically.) The river, I hope.
Susan. We should get on better if you did not anticipate, Powers.
P. Anticipate! (Jumps and rings bell. Instantly gong sounds outside. Susan jumps up in alarm, drops leaf of MS.)
Susan. What was that? (Gong again very loud.)
P. Fire, madam, the place is on fire! Escape for your life
Susan. Merciful heaven, and if my precious book should be burned. Why, my book is a legacy for the ages. (Rushes wildly out R. hugging MS.)
P. (Laughs.) That’s our last resort in self-defense. Now may be I can do some work. (Goes to desk and takes up MS.)
Re-enter Welby, R.