"Strange...", said Gilbert Kontiki, "I didn't think anyone remembered Dr Calypso. That fellow looks like a lecherous alcoholic, and he's certainly more talkative than any other doctor I know."

Wounded beyond reproach, Calypso knows the first thing he'll need to do is to get out of the house. But he quickly realises that wouldn't be enough. He'll need to get away. He tries to take flight. He tries to get up. He knows a full recovery is impossible. The critical elements of his witty magic are gone. The issue isn't even that he lost. The problem is that he's too weak to do anything about it. So he throws up his hands and lets himself fall...

The battle is going nowhere. Even the dull stench of wine can't dull the brunt of Gilbert's fighting. It's only with disgust that they both realise their opponent has fallen. Gilbert staggers back...

Locked in a glare with Dr Calypso, Gilbert draws his sword.

"Come outside! Coward!"

The two engage in a viscous a duel of witty insults.

"Your father was a lumpy pumpkin!", cries one of them.

"Your mother's soup was terrible!", the other.

"You ate it!"

"You're father was a great man, you must be what's left..."

"Enough, you rusty horseshoe!"

An awkward silence ensues.

...spooks the horse. Struggling to control the horse, Gilbert is dragged towards the cottage. He glanced at the window, horrified at the sight of his arch-nemesis - Dr Trevor Calypso!

Gilbert Kontiki, riding his loyal horse, is on the hunt for ghosts. Seeking shelter from the relentless rain, he pauses as a roll of thunder and lightning...