BROADBENT. Don't unpack. Just take out the things I've worn; and put in clean things. HODSON [appearing at the bedroom door] Yes sir. [He turns to go back into the bedroom. BROADBENT. And look here! [Hodson turns again]. Do you remember where I put my revolver? HODSON. Revolver, sir? Yes sir. Mr Doyle uses it as a paper-weight, sir, when he's drawing. BROADBENT. Well, I want it packed. There's a packet of cartridges somewhere, I think. Find it and pack it as well. HODSON. Yes sir. BROADBENT. By the way, pack your own traps too. I shall take you with me this time. HODSON [hesitant]. Is it a dangerous part you're going to, sir? Should I be expected to carry a revolver, sir? BROADBENT. Perhaps it might be as well. I'm going to Ireland. HODSON [reassured]. Yes sir. BROADBENT. You don't feel nervous about it, I suppose? HODSON. Not at all, sir. I'll risk it, sir. BROADBENT. Have you ever been in Ireland? HODSON. No sir. I understand it's a very wet climate, sir. I'd better pack your india-rubber overalls. BROADBENT. Do. Where's Mr Doyle? HODSON. I'm expecting him at five, sir. He went out after lunch. BROADBENT. Anybody been looking for me? HODSON. A person giving the name of Haffigan has called twice to-day, sir. BROADBENT. Oh, I'm sorry. Why didn't he wait? I told him to wait if I wasn't in. HODSON. Well Sir, I didn't know you expected him; so I thought it best to--to--not to encourage him, sir. BROADBENT. Oh, he's all right. He's an Irishman, and not very particular about his appearance. HODSON. Yes sir, I noticed that he was rather Irish.... BROADBENT. If he calls again let him come up. HODSON. I think I saw him waiting about, sir, when you drove up. Shall I fetch him, sir? BROADBENT. Do, Hodson. HODSON. Yes sir [He makes for the outer door]. BROADBENT. He'll want tea. Let us have some. HODSON [stopping]. I shouldn't think he drank tea, sir. BROADBENT. Well, bring whatever you think he'd like. HODSON. Yes sir [An electric bell rings]. Here he is, sir. Saw you arrive, sir. BROADBENT. Right. Show him in. [Hodson goes out. Broadbent gets through the rest of his letters before Hodson returns with the visitor]. HODSON. Mr Affigan. Haffigan is a stunted, shortnecked, smallheaded, redhaired man of about 30, with reddened nose and furtive eyes. He is dressed in seedy black, almost clerically, and might be a tenth-rate schoolmaster ruined by drink. He hastens to shake Broadbent's hand with a show of reckless geniality and high spirits, helped out by a rollicking stage brogue. This is perhaps a comfort to himself, as he is secretly pursued by the horrors of incipient delirium tremens. HAFFIGAN. Tim Haffigan, sir, at your service. The top o the mornin to you, Misther Broadbent. BROADBENT [delighted with his Irish visitor]. Good afternoon, Mr Haffigan. TIM. An is it the afthernoon it is already? Begorra, what I call the mornin is all the time a man fasts afther breakfast. BROADBENT. Haven't you lunched?