MRS. CULVER.  Well, I think it’s monstrous!

CULVER.  So it is.  I’ve been a Conservative all my life; I am a Conservative.  I swear I am.  And yet, now when I look back, I’m amazed at the things I used to do.  Why, once I actually voted against a candidate who stood for the reform of the House of Lords.  Seems incredible.  This war is changing my ideas. (Suddenly, after a slight pause.) I’m dashed if I don’t join the Labour party and ask Ramsay Macdonald to lunch.

Enter Parlourmaid, back.

PARLOURMAID.  You are wanted on the telephone, madam.

MRS. CULVER.  Oh, Arthur! (Pats him on the shoulder as she goes out.)

(Exit Mrs. Culver and Parlourmaid, back.)

CULVER.  Hildegarde, go and see if you can hurry up dinner.

HILDEGARDE.  No one could.

CULVER.  Never mind, go and see. (Exit Hildegarde, back.) John, just take these keys, and get some cigars out of the cabinet, you know, Partagas.

JOHN.  Oh!  Is it a Partaga night? (Exit, back.)

CULVER (watching the door close).  Tranto, we are conspirators.

TRANTO.  You and I?

CULVER.  Yes.  But we must have no secrets.  Who wrote that article in The
Echo?  Who is Sampson Straight?

TRANTO (temporising, lightly).  You remind me of the man with the pistol.

CULVER.  Is it Hildegarde?

TRANTO.  How did you guess?

CULVER.  Well; first, I knew my daughter couldn’t be the piffling lunatic who does your war cookery articles.  Second, I asked myself:  What reason has she for pretending to be that piffling lunatic?  Third, I have an exceedingly high opinion of my daughter’s brains.  Fourth, she gave a funny start just now when I mentioned the idea of Sampson Straight going to the Tower.

TRANTO.  Perhaps I ought to explain—­

CULVER.  No you oughn’t.  There’s no time.  I simply wanted a bit of information.  I’ve got it.  Now I have a bit of information for you.  I’ve been offered a place in this beautiful Honours List.  Baronetcy!  Me!  I am put on the same high plane as Mr. James Brill, the unspeakable.  The formal offer hasn’t actually arrived—­it’s late; I expect the letter’ll be here in the morning—­but I know for a fact I’m in the List for a baronetcy.

TRANTO.  Well, I congratulate you.

CULVER.  You’d better not.

TRANTO.  You deserve more than a baronetcy.  Your department has been a striking success—­one of the very few in the whole length of Whitehall.

CULVER.  I know my department has been a success.  But that’s not why I’m offered a baronetcy.  Good heavens, I haven’t even spoken to any member of the War Cabinet yet.  I’ve been trying to for about a year, but in spite of powerful influences to help me I’ve never been able to bring off a meeting with the mandarins.  No!  I’m offered a baronetcy because I’m respectable; I’m decent; and at the last moment they thought the List looked a bit too thick—­so they pushed me in.  One of their brilliant afterthoughts!...  No damned merit about the thing, I can tell you!