ook here! Would you say that a strong press movement
would help to quiet the country?

PRESS. Well, as you ask me, Lord William, I'll tell you. No
newspapers for a month would do the trick.

LORD W. [Jotting] By Jove! That's brilliant.

PRESS. Yes, but I should starve. [He suddenly looks up, and his
eyes, like gimlets, bore their way into LORD WILLIAM'S pleasant,
troubled face] Lord William, you could do me a real kindness.
Authorise me to go and interview the fellow who left the bomb here;
I've got his address. I promise you to do it most discreetly. Fact
is--well--I'm in low water. Since the war we simply can't get
sensation enough for the new taste. Now, if I could have an article
headed: "Bombed and Bomber"--sort of double interview, you know, it'd
very likely set me on my legs again. [Very earnestly] Look!
[He holds out his frayed wristbands.]

LORD W. [Grasping his hand] My dear chap, certainly. Go and
interview this blighter, and then bring him round here. You can do
that for one. I'd very much like to see him, as a matter of fact.

PRESS. Thanks awfully; I shall never forget it. Oh! might I have
my note-book?

[LORD WILLIAM hands it back.]

LORD W. And look here, if there's anything--when a fellow's
fortunate and another's not----

[He puts his hand into his breast pocket.]

PRESS. Oh, thank you! But you see, I shall have to write you up a
bit, Lord William. The old aristocracy--you know what the public
still expects; if you were to lend me money, you might feel----

LORD W. By Jove! Never should have dreamt----

PRESS. No! But it wouldn't do. Have you a photograph of yourself.

LORD W. Not on me.

PRESS. Pity! By the way, has it occurred to you that there may be
another bomb on the premises?

LORD W. Phew! I'll have a look.

[He looks at his watch, and begins hurriedly searching the bins,
bending down and going on his knees. THE PRESS reverses the
notebook again and sketches him.]

PRESS. [To himself] Ah! That'll do. "Lord William examines the
foundations of his house."

[A voice calls "Bill!" THE PRESS snaps the note-book to, and
looks up. There, where the "communication trench" runs in,
stands a tall and elegant woman in the extreme of evening
dress.]

[With presence of mind] Lady William? You'll find Lord William
--Oh! Have you a photograph of him?

LADY W. Not on me.

PRESS. [Eyeing her]