Press. [In front of Poulder’s round eyes and mouth] Ah, major domo, I was just taking the names of the Anti-Sweating dinner. [He catches sight of the bomb in James’s hand] By George!  What A.1. irony! [He brings out a note-book and writes] “Highest class dining to relieve distress of lowest class-bombed by same!” Tipping! [He rubs his hands].

Poulder. [Drawing himself up] Sir?  This is present! [He indicates Anne with the flat of his hand.]

L. Anne.  I found the bomb.

Press. [Absorbed] By Jove!  This is a piece of luck! [He writes.]

Poulder. [Observing him] This won’t do—­it won’t do at all!

Press. [Writing-absorbed] “Beginning of the British Revolution!”

Poulder. [To James] Put it in the cooler.  ’Enry, ’old up the cooler.  Gently!  Miss Anne, get be’ind the Press.

James. [Grimly—­holding the bomb above the cooler] It won’t be the Press that’ll stop Miss Anne’s goin’ to ‘Eaven if one o’ this sort goes off.  Look out!  I’m goin’ to drop it.

     [All recoil.  Henry puts the cooler down and backs away.]

L. Anne. [Dancing forward] Oh!  Let me see!  I missed all the war, you know!

     [James lowers the bomb into the cooler.]

Poulder. [Regaining courage—­to the press, who is scribbling in his note-book] If you mention this before the police lay their hands on it, it’ll be contempt o’ Court.

Press. [Struck] I say, major domo, don’t call in the police!  That’s the last resort.  Let me do the Sherlocking for you.  Who’s been down here?

L. Anne.  The plumber’s man about the gas—–­a little blighter we’d never seen before.

James.  Lives close by, in Royal Court Mews—­No. 3.  I had a word with him before he came down.  Lemmy his name is.

Press.  “Lemmy!” [Noting the address] Right-o!

L. Anne.  Oh!  Do let me come with you!

Poulder. [Barring the way] I’ve got to lay it all before Lord
William.

Press.  Ah!  What’s he like?

Poulder. [With dignity] A gentleman, sir.

Press.  Then he won’t want the police in.

Poulder.  Nor the Press, if I may go so far, as to say so.

Press.  One to you!  But I defy you to keep this from the Press, major domo:  This is the most significant thing that has happened in our time.  Guy Fawkes is nothing to it.  The foundations of Society reeling!  By George, it’s a second Bethlehem!

     [He writes.]

Poulder. [To James] Take up your wine and follow me.  ’Enry, bring the cooler.  Miss Anne, precede us. [To the press] You defy me?  Very well; I’m goin’ to lock you up here.