Brandon (puffs). Thank you. I thought you we going to lose your nerve for a moment, Granno.
Granillo. So did I. But I wasn’t.
Brandon. May I put on the light proper?
Granillo. Yes.
[Brandon, humming with a rather strained nonchalance, switches on light by door, and goes out without a word. He can be heard switching on light in hall. Granillo remains looking into fire for about thirty seconds, then goes over to sideboard and takes a drink. Suddenly Brandon returns. His eyes are blazing, and he is pale with rage.
Brandon. God, you fool! Didn’t I tell you to check up in there!
Granillo. What?
Brandon (holding a slip of blue paper in front of the other). Look at this! The boy’s Coliseum ticket. It was on the floor. We could hang on that! What in Heaven’s name———
Granillo (with a shrug of the shoulders characteristic of his race). But, my dear Brandon, you are as much to blame as myself.
Brandon. That’s nothing to do with it! It’s your business to see what I don’t see. How in Heaven’s name it got there I don’t know.
[A bell rings.
Damnation! That’s Sabot. Now for God’s sake quiet yourself and sit down. All right. I’ll go.
[Brandon exits. Granillo slips blue ticket into his top waistcoat pocket, rushes over to finish drink, seizes book from table, and settles down in armchair R., pretending to read. Pause. Voices from outside, mounting stairs. They arrive outside door.
Sabot (off). In here, sair?
Brandon (off). Yes, in here.
Sabot. Very good, sair.
[Brandon re-enters, closing door behind him. He is just settling down in armchair L., when there is a
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