Timson. [Taking the card.] Yer new address!  You are a gen’leman. [He lurches slowly away.]

     [Ann shuts the street door and sets her back against it.  The
     rumble of the approaching van is heard outside.  It ceases.]

Ann. [In a fateful voice.] Daddy! [They stare at each other.] Do you know what you’ve done?  Given your card to those six rotters.

Wellwyn. [With a blank stare.] Six?

Ann. [Staring round the naked room.] What was the good of this?

Wellwyn. [Following her eyes—–­very gravely.] Ann!  It is stronger than me.

     [Without a word Ann opens the door, and walks straight out. 
     With a heavy sigh, Wellwyn sinks down on the little stool
     before the fire.  The three humble-men come in.]

Chief humble-man. [In an attitude of expectation.] This is the larst of it, sir.

Wellwyn.  Oh!  Ah! yes!

[He gives them money; then something seems to strike him, and he exhibits certain signs of vexation.  Suddenly he recovers, looks from one to the other, and then at the tea things.  A faint smile comes on his face.]

Wellwyn.  You can finish the decanter.

     [He goes out in haste.]

Chief humble-man. [Clinking the coins.] Third time of arskin’!  April fool!  Not ’arf!  Good old pigeon!

Second humble-man.  ’Uman being, I call ’im.

Chief humble-man. [Taking the three glasses from the last packing-case, and pouring very equally into them.] That’s right.  Tell you wot, I’d never ’a touched this unless ’e’d told me to, I wouldn’t—­not with ’im.

Second humble-man.  Ditto to that!  This is a bit of orl right! [Raising his glass.] Good luck!

Third humble-man.  Same ’ere!

[Simultaneously they place their lips smartly against the liquor, and at once let fall their faces and their glasses.]

Chief humble-man.  [With great solemnity.]  Crikey!   Bill!   Tea!
.....’E’s got us!

     [The stage is blotted dark.]

Curtain.

THE END