Dorothy: It’s much too late for the postman. It must be the landlord come for the rent.
Philip [sitting down again:] Perhaps he will break his neck on his damned stairs. Then we can pick his pockets.
Dorothy: It will make him angry if we don’t go down.
Philip: He will forget that anger when he finds that we can’t pay him.
Dorothy: I can hear his feet on the stairs.
Philip: If I am strong enough I will throw him out of the window.
[There is a knock at the door, and the District Visitor enters without waiting for an answer. He looks like a Nonconformist parson, carries a black bag and wears button boots, black suede gloves too long in the fingers.
D. V.: Mr. Philip Oldcastle?
Philip: That is my name. What do you want? I suppose you have come from the landlord.
D. V.: No; at least, not exactly. It’s rather an unusual case. You see, Mr. Oldcastle, my name is Death.
Philip: I do not think that very likely.
D. V. [affronted]: And why, sir?
Philip: Because you are reputed never to come when you are wanted.
D. V. [resting his bag on a chair]: I am glad to hear that for once I am welcome. My experience is
[ 8 ]
