_Podb._ (_from his bed, suspiciously, to CULCHARD, who is setting
fire to a small pastille in a soap-dish_). I say, old chappie, bar
_fireworks_, you know! What the deuce _are_ you up to over there?

_Culch._ Lighting a "fidibus." Splendid thing to drive out mosquitoes.
(_The pastille fizzes, and begins to emit a dense white smoke, and a
suffocating odour._)

_Podb._ (_bounding_). Mosquitoes! It would drive a _dragon_ out.
Phew--ah! (_CULCHARD closes the window._) You _don't_ mean to say
you're going to shut me up in this infernal reek on a stifling night
like this?

_Culch._ If I didn't, the mosquitoes would come in again.

_Podb._ Come in? With that pastille doing the young Vesuvius! _Do_ you
think a mosquito's a born fool? (_He jumps out and opens the window._)
I'm not going to be smoked like a wasps' nest, _I_ can tell you!

_Culch._ (_calmly shutting it again, as PODBURY returns to bed_).
You'll be grateful to me by-and-by.

[_Slips between his mosquito-curtains in a gingerly manner,
and switches off the electric light. A silence._

_Podb._ I say, you ain't asleep, are you? Think we shall see anything
of them to-morrow, eh?

_Culch._ See? I can _hear_ one singing in my ear at this moment.
(_Irritably._) You _would_ open the window!