re] I won't go! I simply must
see James put him up!

PRESS. Now, I warn you all plainly--there'll be a leader on this.

[He tries to bolt but is seized by JAMES.]

JAMES. [Ironically] Ho!

PRESS. My paper has the biggest influence

JAMES. That's the one! Git up in that 'ock bin, and mind your feet
among the claret.

PRESS. This is an outrage on the Press.

JAMES. Then it'll wipe out one by the Press on the Public--an' leave
just a million over! Hup!

POULDER. 'Enry, give 'im an 'and.

[THE PRESS mounts, assisted by JAMES and HENRY.]

L. ANNE. [Ecstatic] It's lovely!

POULDER. [Nervously] Mind the '87! Mind!

JAMES. Mind your feet in Mr. Poulder's favourite wine!

[A WOMAN'S voice is heard, as from the depths of a cave, calling
"Anne! Anne!"]

L. ANNE. [Aghast] Miss Stokes--I must hide!

[She gets behind POULDER. The three Servants achieve dignified
positions in front of the bins. The voice comes nearer. THE
PRESS sits dangling his feet, grinning. MISS STOKES appears.
She is woman of forty-five and terribly good manners. Her
greyish hair is rolled back off her forehead. She is in a high
evening dress, and in the dim light radiates a startled
composure.]

MISS STOKES. Poulder, where is Miss Anne?

[ANNE lays hold of the backs of his legs.]

POULDER. [Wincing] I am not in a position to inform you, Miss.

MISS S. They told me she was down here. And what is all this about
a bomb?

POULDER. [Lifting his hand in a calming manner] The crisis is past;
we have it in ice, Miss. 'Enry, show Miss Stokes! [HENRY indicates
the cooler.]

MISS S. Good gracious! Does Lord William know?

POULDER. Not at present, Miss.

MISS S. But he ought to, at once.

POULDER. We 'ave 'ad complications.

MISS S. [Catching sight of the legs of THE PRESS] Dear me! What
are those?

JAMES. [Gloomily] The complications.

[MISS STOKES pins up her glasses and stares at them.]

PRESS. [Cheerfully] Miss Stokes, would you kindly tell Lord William
I'm here from the Press, and would like to speak to him?

MISS S. But--er--why are you up there?

JAMES. 'E got up out o' remorse, Miss.

MISS S. What do you mean, James?

PRESS. [Warmly] Miss Stokes, I appeal to you. Is it fair to
attribute responsibility to an unsigned journalist--for what he has
to say?

JAMES. [Sepulchrally] Yes, when you've got 'im in