POULDER. [Open-mouthed] Dear me! [Pointing to the bomb] Do you really think there's something in this?
JAMES. [Sepulchrally] 'Igh explosive.
PRESS. [Taking out his note-book] Too much, anyway, to let it drop.
[A pleasant voice calls "Poulder! Hallo!".]
POULDER. [Forming a trumpet with his hand] Me Lord!
[As LORD WILLIAM appears, JAMES, overcome by reminiscences; salutes, and is mechanically answered. LORD WILLIAM has "charm." His hair and moustache are crisp and just beginning to grizzle. His bearing is free, easy, and only faintly armoured.
He will go far to meet you any day. He is in full evening dress.]
LORD W. [Cheerfully] I say, Poulder, what have you and James been doing to the Press? Liberty of the Press--it isn't what it was, but there is a limit. Where is he?
[He turns to Jams between whom and himself there is still the freemasonry of the trenches.]
JAMES. [Pointing to POULDER] Be'ind the parapet, me Lord.
[THE PRESS mopes out from where he has involuntarily been. screened by POULDER, who looks at JAMES severely. LORD WILLIAM hides a smile.]
PRESS. Very glad to meet you, Lord William. My presence down here is quite involuntary.
LORD W. [With a charming smile] I know. The Press has to put its--er--to go to the bottom of everything. Where's this bomb, Poulder?
Ah!
[He looks into the wine cooler.]
PRESS. [Taking out his note-book] Could I have a word with you on the crisis, before dinner, Lord William?
LORD W. It's time you and James were up, Poulder. [Indicating the cooler] Look after this; tell Lady William I'll be there in a minute.
POULDER. Very good, me Lord.
[He goes, followed by JAMES carrying the cooler.]
As THE PRESS turns to look after them, LORD WILLIAM catches sight of his back.]
LORD W. I must apologise, sir. Can I brush you?
PRESS. [Dusting himself] Thanks; it's only behind. [He opens his note-book] Now, Lord William, if you'd kindly outline your views on the national situation; after such a narrow escape from death, I feel they might have a moral effect. My paper, as you know, is concerned with--the deeper aspect of things. By the way, what do you value your house and collection at?
LORD W. [Twisting his little mustache] Really: I can't! Really!
PRESS. Might I say a quarter of a million-lifted in two seconds and a half-hundred thousand to the second. It brings it home, you know.
LORD W. No, no; dash it! No!
PRESS. [Disappointed] I see--not draw attention to your property in the present excited state of public feeling? Well, suppose we approach it from the viewpoint of the Anti-Sweating dinner. I have the list of guests--very weighty!
LORD W. Taken some lifting-wouldn't they?
PRESS. [Seriously] May I say that you designed the dinner to soften the tension, at this crisis? You saw that case, I suppose, this morning, of the woman dying of starvation in Bethnal Green?
LORD W. [Desperately] Yes-yes! I've been horribly affected. I always knew this slump would come after the war, sooner or later.
PRESS. [Writing] ". . . had predicted slump."
LORD W. You see, I've been an Anti-Sweating man for years, and I thought if only we could come together now . . . .
PRESS. [Nodding] I see--I see! Get Society interested in the Sweated, through the dinner. I have the menu here. [He produces it.]
LORD W. Good God, man--more than that! I want to show the people that we stand side by side with them, as we did in the trenches. The whole thing's too jolly awful. I lie awake over it.
[He walks up and down.]
PRESS. [Scribbling] One moment, please. I'll just get that down--"Too jolly awful--lies awake over it. Was wearing a white waistcoat with pearl buttons." [At a sign of resentment from his victim.]
I want the human touch, Lord William--it's everything in my paper.
What do you say about this attempt to bomb you?
LORD W. Well, in a way I think it's d---d natural PRESS. [Scribbling] "Lord William thought it d---d natural."
LORD W. [Overhearing] No, no; don't put that down. What I mean is, I should like to get hold of those fellows that are singing the Marseillaise about the streets--fellows that have been in the war--real sports they are, you know--thorough good chaps at bottom--and say to them: "Have a feeling heart, boys; put yourself in my position." I don't believe a bit they'd want to bomb me then.
[He walks up and down.]
PRESS. [Scribbling and muttering] "The idea, of brotherhood--" D'you mind my saying that? Word brotherhood--always effective--always----
[He writes.]
LORD E. [Bewildered] "Brotherhood!" Well, it's pure accident that I'm here and they're there. All the same, I can't pretend to be starving. Can't go out into Hyde Park and stand on a tub, can I?
But if I could only show them what I feel--they're such good chaps--poor devils.
PRESS. I quite appreciate! [He writes] "Camel and needle's eye."
You were at Eton and Oxford? Your constituency I know. Clubs? But I can get all that. Is it your view that Christianity is on the up-grade, Lord William?
LORD W. [Dubious] What d'you mean by Christianity--loving--kindness and that? Of course I think that dogma's got the knock.
[He walks.]
PRESS. [Writing] "Lord William thought dogma had got the knock."
I should like you just to develop your definition of Christianity.
"Loving--kindness" strikes rather a new note.
LORD W. New? What about the Sermon on the Mount?
PRESS. [Writing] "Refers to Sermon on Mount." I take it you don't belong to any Church, Lord William?
LORD W. [Exasperated] Well, really--I've been baptised and that sort of thing. But look here----
PRESS. Oh! you can trust me--I shan't say anything that you'll regret. Now, do you consider that a religious revival would help to quiet the country?.
LORD W. Well, I think it would be a deuced, good thing if everybody were a bit more kind.
PRESS. Ah! [Musing] I feel that your views are strikingly original, Lord William. If you could just open out on them a little more? How far would you apply kindness in practice?
LORD W. Can you apply it in theory?
PRESS. I believe it is done. But would you allow yourself to be blown up with impunity?
