f completeness and perfection that must be,
in my opinion, destructive to the happiness of the staff. My own
view--which you are pledged, remember, not to betray--is that the German
War Office is no better than any other War Office. I found that opinion
on my observation of the characters of my brothers-in-law: one of whom,
by the way, is on the German general staff. I am not at all sure that
this list of gun emplacements would receive the smallest attention. You
see, there are always so many more important things to be attended to.
Family matters, and so on, you understand.

THE LADY. Still, if a question were asked in the House of Commons--

AUGUSTUS. The great advantage of being at war, madam, is that nobody
takes the slightest notice of the House of Commons. No doubt it is
sometimes necessary for a Minister to soothe the more seditious members
of that assembly by giving a pledge or two; but the War Office takes no
notice of such things.

THE LADY [staring at him]. Then you think this list of gun emplacements
doesn't matter!!

AUGUSTUS. By no means, madam. It matters very much indeed. If this spy
were to obtain possession of the list, Blueloo would tell the story at
every dinner-table in London; and--

THE LADY. And you might lose your post. Of course.

AUGUSTUS [amazed and indignant]. I lose my post! What are you dreaming
about, madam? How could I possibly be spared? There are hardly
Highcastles enough at present to fill half the posts created by this
war. No: Blueloo would not go that far. He is at least a gentleman. But
I should be chaffed; and, frankly, I don't like being chaffed.

THE LADY. Of course not. Who does? It would never do. Oh never, never.

AUGUSTUS. I'm glad you see it in that light. And now, as a measure
of security, I shall put that list in my pocket. [He begins searching
vainly from drawer to drawer in the writing-table.] Where on earth--?
What the dickens did I--? That's very odd: I--Where the deuce--? I
thought I had put it in the--Oh, here it is! No: this is Lucy's last
letter.

THE LADY [elegiacally]. Lucy's Last Letter! What a title for a picture
play!

AUGUSTUS [delighted]. Yes: it is, isn't it? Lucy appeals to the
imagination like no other woman. By the way [handing over the letter],
I wonder could you read it for me? Lucy is a darling girl; but I really
can't read her writing. In London I get the office typist to decipher it
and make me a typed copy; but here there is nobody.