CONSTABLE. [Donning his cloak.] Thank you. Miss—very good of you, I'm sure.
MRS. MEGAN. [Mazed.] It's warm!
[She gives them all a last half-smiling look, and Passes with the CONSTABLE through the doorway.]
FERRAND. That makes the third of us, Monsieur. We are not in luck. To wish us dead, it seems, is easier than to let us die.
[He looks at ANN, who is standing with her eyes fixed on her father. WELLWYN has taken from his pocket a visiting card.]
WELLWYN. [To FERRAND.] Here quick; take this, run after her! When they've done with her tell her to come to us.
FERRAND. [Taking the card, and reading the address.] "No. 7, Haven House, Flight Street!" Rely on me, Monsieur—I will bring her myself to call on you. 'Au revoir, mon bon Monsieur'!
[He bends over WELLWYN's hand; then, with a bow to ANN goes out; his tattered figure can be seen through the window, passing in the wind. WELLWYN turns back to the fire. The figure of TIMSON advances into the doorway, no longer holding in either hand a waterproof leg-piece.]
TIMSON. [In a croaky voice.] Sir!
WELLWYN. What—you, Timson?