Now, if it hadn't been for FANNY, I--Where's that linkman? Hi!--you
there!--stop! (_The light stops._) Look here--I want you to come to my
carriage, and show my man the way out of this!

_Voice from behind the Railings_. We got to find our _own_ way out
fust, Guv'nor. We're _inside_!

_A Belated Reveller_ (_lurching up to Mr. F._) Beg your pardon, bur
cou' you dreck me nearesht way--er--Dawshon Plashe?

_Mr. F._ (_savagely_). First turning to the right, third to the left,
and then straight on till you come to it!

_The B.R._. I'm exsheedingly 'blished; (_confidentially_) fact ish,
I'm shuffrin' shli' 'fection eyeshi', an' I 'shure you, can't shee
anyshing dishtingly to-ni'. (_He cannons against a lamp-post, to which
he clings affectionately, as a Policeman emerges from the gloom._)

_Policeman_. Now then, what are you doing 'ere, eh?

_The B.R._ Itsh all ri', P'lishman, thish gerrilman--(_patting
lamp-post affectionately_)--has kindly promished shee me home.

_Mr. F._ Hang it! Where's PEACOCK and the brougham? (_He discovers a
phantom vehicle by the kerb, and gets in angrily._) Now, look here, my
dear, it's no earthly good--!

_Occupant of the Brougham_ (_who is_ not FANNY). Coward, touch a
defenceless woman if you dare! I have nothing on me of any value.
Help! Police!