[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.
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