CALWAY. [Swiftly.] You, sir, with your "devil take the hindmost," have never even seen him. [SIR THOMAS HOXTON, throwing back a gesture of disgust, steps out into the night, and falls heavily PROFESSOR CALWAY, hastening to his rescue, falls more heavily still.] [TIMSON, momentarily roused from slumber on the doorstep, sits up.] HOXTON. [Struggling to his knees.] Damnation! CALWAY. [Sitting.] How simultaneous! [WELLWYN and FERRAND approach hastily.] FERRAND. [Pointing to TIMSON.] Monsieur, it was true, it seems. They had lost sight of the individual. [A Policeman has appeared under the street lamp. He picks up HOXTON'S hat.] CONSTABLE. Anything wrong, sir? HOXTON. [Recovering his feet.] Wrong? Great Scott! Constable! Why do you let things lie about in the street like this? Look here, Wellyn! [They all scrutinize TIMSON.] WELLWYN. It's only the old fellow whose reform you were discussing. HOXTON. How did he come here? CONSTABLE. Drunk, sir. [Ascertaining TIMSON to be in the street.] Just off the premises, by good luck. Come along, father. TIMSON. [Assisted to his feet-drowsily.] Cert'nly, by no means; take my arm. [They move from the doorway. HOXTON and CALWAY re-enter, and go towards the fire.] ANN. [Entering from the house.] What's happened? CALWAY. Might we have a brush? HOXTON. [Testily.] Let it dry! [He moves to the fire and stands before it. PROFESSOR CALWAY following stands a little behind him. ANN returning begins to brush the PROFESSOR's sleeve.] WELLWYN. [Turning from the door, where he has stood looking after the receding TIMSON.] Poor old Timson! FERRAND. [Softly.] Must be philosopher, Monsieur! They will but run him in a little. [From the model's room MRS. MEGAN has come out, shepherded by CANON BERTLEY.] BERTLEY. Let's see, your Christian name is----. MRS. MEGAN. Guinevere. BERTLEY. Oh! Ah! Ah! Ann, take Gui--take our little friend into the study a minute: I am going to put her into service. We shall make a new woman of her, yet. ANN. [Handing CANON BERTLEY the brush, and turning to MRS. MEGAN.] Come on! [She leads into the house, and MRS. MEGAN follows Stolidly.] BERTLEY. [Brushing CALWAY'S back.] Have you fallen? CALWAY. Yes. BERTLEY. Dear me! How was that? HOXTON. That old ruffian drunk on the doorstep. Hope they'll give him a sharp dose! These rag-tags! [He looks round, and his angry eyes light by chance on FERRAND.] FERRAND. [With his eyes on HOXTON--softly.] Monsieur, something tells me it is time I took the road again. WELLWYN. [Fumbling out a sovereign.] Take this, then! FERRAND. [Refusing the coin.] Non, Monsieur. To abuse 'ospitality is not in my character. BERTLEY. We must not despair of anyone. HOXTON. Who talked of despairing? Treat him, as I say, and you'll see! CALWAY. The interest of the State----