lly! Ah! I think you said he was a
congenital?

WELLWYN. [With great interest.] What!

ANN. [Low.] Daddy! [To CALWAY.] Yes; I--I think that's what you
call him.

CALWAY. Not old?

ANN. No; and quite healthy--a vagabond.

CALWAY. [Sipping.] I see! Yes. Is it, do you think chronic
unemployment with a vagrant tendency? Or would it be nearer the
mark to say: Vagrancy----

WELLWYN. Pure! Oh! pure! Professor. Awfully human.

CALWAY. [With a smile of knowledge.] Quite! And--er----

ANN. [Breaking in.] Before he comes, there's another----

BERTLEY. [Blandly.] Yes, when you came in, we were discussing what
should be done with a man who drinks rum--[CALWAY pauses in the act
of drinking]--that doesn't belong to him.

CALWAY. Really! Dipsomaniac?

BERTLEY. Well--perhaps you could tell us--drink certainly changing
thine to mine. The Professor could see him, WELLWYN?

ANN. [Rising.] Yes, do come and look at him, Professor CALWAY.
He's in there.

[She points towards the model's room. CALWAY smiles
deprecatingly.]

ANN. No, really; we needn't open the door. You can see him through
the glass. He's more than half----

CALWAY. Well, I hardly----

ANN. Oh! Do! Come on, Professor CALWAY! We must know what to do
with him. [CALWAY rises.] You can stand on a chair. It's all
science.

[She draws CALWAY to the model's room, which is lighted by a
glass panel in the top of the high door. CANON BERTLEY also
rises and stands watching. WELLWYN hovers, torn between
respect for science and dislike of espionage.]

ANN. [Drawing up a chair.] Come on!

CALWAY. Do you seriously wish me to?

ANN. Rather! It's quite safe; he can't see you.

CALWAY. But he might come out.

[ANN puts her back against the door. CALWAY mounts the chair
dubiously, and raises his head cautiously, bending it more and
more downwards.]

ANN. Well?

CALWAY. He appears to be---sitting on the floor.

WELLWYN. Yes, that's all right!

[BERTLEY covers his lips.]

CALWAY. [To ANN--descending.] By the look of his face, as far as
one can see it, I should say there was a leaning towards mania. I
know the treatment.

[There come three loud knocks on the door. WELLWYN and ANN
exchange a glance of consternation.]

ANN. Who's that?

WELLWYN. It sounds like Sir Thomas.

CALWAY. Sir Thomas Hoxton?

WELLWYN. [Nodding.] Awfully sorr