The Good Friends of Jackson Elias treats a horror story as something to be read out loud, in parts, by a company of voices. Its festive fireside tale of The Great God Pan, by Arthur Machen, runs to four installments across successive nights, with Scott presenting and a changing cast reading the text. Scott introduces it as a classic of psychological and cosmic horror, set where rational science runs into ancient pagan forces. The chapters bear that out. A doctor named Raymond conducts an experiment, a sleeper dreams of a darkness beyond the stars, and a girl of about seventeen is brought into the laboratory. Later, Villiers hears about a death the doctors cannot account for: no poison, no real sign of violence, only a few slight bruises. There is Lord Argentine, whose dinners become famous, a mysterious house on Ashley Street, and a walk from bright Piccadilly into a dull street where the sunshine seems to give out. Each opening sets the room first. Listeners are invited to pour something warming, dim the lights, grab a blanket, or throw another log on the fire. The reading company shifts from night to night. Sarah Dovey, Mike Percival-Maxwell, Brian Murphy, Jen Friday, Sue Savage, Andy Goodman, Graham Wormsley and Anthony Lee Dudley are among the voices. Scott's sign-offs are a small comedy of their own, since he closes each night with some version of still appearing to be himself, at least for now. The final part ends by wishing everyone safe travels home on a cold, dark December night. William Hope Hodgson's The Horse of the Invisible gets the same treatment in two parts. These are billed as special episodes and organized by Mike Percival-Maxwell, who introduces the readers. The story comes from the casebooks of Hodgson's ghost finder, and a family curse and an approaching wedding supply the stakes. Its narrator gives a little sermon on common sense versus hysteria, and then a hoof sounds in the dark billiard room the party has just left. By the second part the house is full of gunfire, with a double barrel, a revolver and a gobbling neigh at close quarters. The first part's sign-off stumbles, stops and tries again, and the stumble stays in. The second part closes by thanking readers from earlier nights and giving one reader room to mention the scenarios they write and their other work. Across both stories the cast clearly enjoys the material, and the presenting stays light enough that the ceremony never turns stiff.