that's not the real explanation. The real explanation is that no one
wants the Government to fall because no one wants to step into the
Government's shoes. However, thanks to Tranto's masterly presence of
mind in afflicting Sampson with a disease that kills like prussic acid,
the Government can no longer give Sampson a title, and the danger to the
Government is therefore over.

TRANTO. Over! I wish it was! Supposing the Government doesn't happen to
see my late extra in time! Supposing the offer of a baronetcy to Sampson
Straight goes forth! The mischief will be done. Worst of all, supposing
the only genuine Sampson Straight hears of it and accepts it! A
baronetcy given to a bigamist! No Government could possibly survive the
exposure.

MRS. CULVER. Not even if its survival was necessary to the success of
the Allied cause?

CULVER (_gloomily, shaking his head_). My dear, Tranto is right. This
great country has always insisted first of all, and before anything else
whatever, on the unsullied purity of the domestic life of its public
men. Let a baronetcy be given, or even offered, to a bigamist--and this
great country would not hesitate for one second, not one second.

TRANTO. The danger still exists. And only one man in this world can
avert it.

CULVER. You don't mean me, Tranto?

TRANTO. I understand that you have neither accepted nor refused the
offer. You must accept it instantly. Instantly.

(_A silence_. John _begins to creep towards the door, back, and_
Hildegarde _towards the door, L_.)

MRS. CULVER (_firmly_). John, where are you going?

JOHN. Anywhere.

MRS. CULVER. Have you still got that letter to Lord Woking in which
your father accepts the title?

JOHN. Yes.

MRS. CULVER. Come here. Let me see it. (_She inspects the envelope of
the letter and returns it to_ John.) Yes, that's right. Now listen to
me. Get a taxi at once and drive to Lord Woking's, and insist on seeing
Lord Woking, and give him that letter with your own hand. Do you
understand? (_Exit_ Hildegarde, _L_.) The stamp will be wasted, but
never mind. Fly!

JOHN. It's a damned shame. (Mrs. Culver _smiles calmly_.)

CULVER (_shaking_ John's _flaccid hand_). So it is. But let us remember,
my boy, that you and I are--are doing our bit. (_Pushes him violently
towards the door_.) Get along. (_Exit_ John, _back_.)

TRANTO (_looking round_). Where's Hildegarde?

MRS. CULVER. She went in there.

TRANTO. I must just speak to her.

(_E