Press.  As a man or a Press man?

Lord W. Is there any difference?

Press.  Is there any connection?

Lord W. Well, as a man.

Press.  As a man, I think it’s rotten.

Lord W. [Jotting] “Rotten.”  And as a pressman?

Press. [Smiling] Prime.

Lord W. What!  Like a Stilton cheese.  Ha, ha!

     [He is about to write.]

Press.  My stunt, Lord William.  You said that.

     [He jots it on his cuff.]

Lord W. But look 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.”