Volume Iii Part 43 (1/2)

CONSTABLE. Come, sir, come! Be a man!

[Throughout all this MRS. MEGAN has sat stolidly before the fire, but as FERRAND suddenly steps forward she looks up at him.]

FERRAND. Do not grieve, Monsieur! This will give her courage.

There is nothing that gives more courage than to see the irony of things. [He touches MRS. MEGAN'S shoulder.] Go, my child; it will do you good.

[MRS. MEGAN rises, and looks at him dazedly.]

CONSTABLE. [Coming forward, and taking her by the hand.] That's my good la.s.s. Come along! We won't hurt you.

MRS. MEGAN. I don't want to go. They'll stare at me.

CONSTABLE. [Comforting.] Not they! I'll see to that.

WELLWYN. [Very upset.] Take her in a cab, Constable, if you must --for G.o.d's sake! [He pulls out a s.h.i.+lling.] Here!

CONSTABLE. [Taking the s.h.i.+lling.] I will, sir, certainly. Don't think I want to----

WELLWYN. No, no, I know. You're a good sort.

CONSTABLE. [Comfortable.] Don't you take on, sir. It's her first try; they won't be hard on 'er. Like as not only bind 'er over in her own recogs. not to do it again. Come, my dear.

MRS. MEGAN. [Trying to free herself from the policeman's cloak.] I want to take this off. It looks so funny.

[As she speaks the door is opened by ANN; behind whom is dimly seen the form of old TIMSON, still heading the curious persons.]

ANN. [Looking from one to the other in amazement.] What is it?

What's happened? Daddy!

FERRAND. [Out of the silence.] It is nothing, Ma'moiselle! She has failed to drown herself. They run her in a little.

WELLWYN. Lend her your jacket, my dear; she'll catch her death.

[ANN, feeling MRS. MEGAN's arm, strips of her jacket, and helps her into it without a word.]

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 Pa.s.ses 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, pa.s.sing 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.]