Leek (crosses to door peering down passage). No, there's nothing there. (Stays up L.)
(Hirst gives a sigh of relief.)
Malcolm (L. C.). Go on—you felt a tap——
Hirst (C.). I turned and saw it—a little wicked head with short red hair—and a white dead face—horrible.
(Clock chimes three-quarters.)
(They assist him into chair L. of table R.)
George (up C.). That's what I saw in the bar—'orrid—it was devilish. (Coming C.)
(Malcolm crosses to L. Hirst shudders.)
Malcolm. Well, it's a most unaccountable thing. It's the last time I come to this house. (Goes to R. of Leek.)
George. I leave to-morrow. I wouldn't go down to that bar alone—no, not for fifty pounds. (Goes up R. to arm-chair.)