Barlow (leaning out of window). By Jove! he's turned the corner all
right. If he keeps on around, we can catch him next time he passes.
Mrs. Bradley. Oh, do, do stop him. I'm so afraid he'll be hurt.
Mrs. Perkins (looking out). I can just see him on the other side of
the square--and, oh dear me!--_his_ lamp is out.
Mrs. Bradley. Oh, Mr. Yardsley--Mr. Barlow--Mr. Perkins--do stop
him!
[By this time all are gazing out of window, except Perkins, who is
nursing his ankle.
Perkins. I guess not. I'm not going to lie down in the road, or sit
in the road, or stand in the road to stop him or anybody else. I
don't believe I've got a sound bone left; but if I have, I'm going to
save it, if Bradley kills himself. If his lamp's out the police will
stop him. Why not be satisfied with that?
Bradley (passing the window). For Heaven's sake! one of you fellows
stop me.
Yardsley. Put on the brake.
Barlow. Fall off. It hasn't got a brake.
Bradley (despairingly, in distance). Can't.
Mrs. Perkins. This is frightful.
Perkins (with a grimace at his ankle). Yes; but there are other
fearful things in this world.
Mrs. Bradley. I shall go crazy if he isn't stopped. He'll kill
himself.
Yardsley (leaving window hurriedly). I have it. Got a length of
clothes-line, Mrs. Perkins?