gas on full. Christy Clarke
gets out of armchair, and begins to arrange the periodicals that are
on wooden chair. The corridor door opens. The man who appears is not
the Master, however. He is the blind piper, Myles Gorman, who is
dressed in the pauper garb. Myles Gorman is a Gael of the West of
Ireland, with a face full of intellectual vigour. He is about sixty,
and carries himself with energy. His face is pale and he has a
fringe of a white beard. The eye-balls in his head are contracted,
but it is evident he has some vestiges of sight. Before the others
are aware who he is, he has advanced into the room. He stands there
now turning the attentive face of the blind_.

GORMAN
Mister Muskerry! Are you there, Mister Muskerry?

TOURNOUR
What do you want, my oul' fellow?

GORMAN
_(with a puzzled look)_ Well, now, I've a favour to ask of
your honour.

TOURNOUR
Be off out of this to your ward.

GORMAN
Is that Mister Muskerry?

CHRISTY
Mister Muskerry isn't here.

GORMAN
And who am I talking to?

CHRISTY
You are talking to Felix Tournour.

GORMAN
Felix Tournour! Ay, ay. Good night, Felix Tournour. When will
the Master be back?

TOURNOUR
_(coming to him)_ Not till you're out of this, and back in
your ward.

GORMAN
Wasn't there a boy speaking to me?

CHRISTY
Yes _(speaking as if to a deaf man)_ The Master will be
going the rounds in a while, and you can speak to him in the ward.

GORMAN I've a favour to ask the Master, and I don't want to ask it
before the others. _(To Christy)_ Will the Master be here soon, a
vick vig? [6]

TOURNOUR
_(taking him by the shoulders)_ Here, now, come on, this is
your way out.

_He turns Gorman to the door. As he is putting him out Thomas
Muskerry enters_

TOURNOUR
This oul' fellow came into the office, and I was leading
him back into his ward.

MUSKERRY
Leave the man alone.

_Tournour retreats to the stove and takes up the bucket; after a
look behind he goes out and closes the corridor door. Christy Clarke
takes the periodicals over to table and sits down. Myles Gorman has
been eager and attentive. Thomas Muskerry stands with his back to the
stove. He is over sixty. He is a large man, fleshy in face and figure,
sanguine and benevolent in disposition. He has the looks and
movements of one in authority. His hair is white and long; his
silver beard is trimmed. His clothes are loosely fitting. He wears
no overcoat, but