HIRST. Him--it--the ghost--anything.

MALCOLM (_uneasily_). Rot!

HIRST. I was coming down the stairs to get something I'd forgotten, when
I felt a tap--(_He breaks off suddenly gazing through open door._) I
thought I saw it again--Look--at the foot of the stairs, can't you see
anything? (_Shaking LEEK._)

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._)