There is the conservatory underneath.

REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.

I'll jump clear of it. Don't let him in for a minute.

(_He plants a lay-figure in front of canvas, with its back to door in
flat, then proceeds to dress it up to resemble himself at work. Brush
in hand, etc_.)

GROGGINS (_off_).

Mr. Tempenny!

(_Knocks at door_.)

MRS. TEMPENNY.

Who's there?

(_She goes to door, half opening it, so that_ GROGGINS _has a partial
view of lay-figure_.)

GROGGINS.

I have a warrant here for Mr. Rembrandt Tempenny--matter of forty pun'.

MRS. TEMPENNY.