Peter (_his mind made up_). I shall do nothing of the sort. Jones. Don't you understand? It's imperative. They're calling for you. We've done our best, marking time, promising them every minute you'd come--and you don't come. It's serious. They're impatient. They don't want us others. They want you--(_sarcastically_)--silver-tongued Garside. We can't hold them much longer. There'll be a riot if you don't turn up. Peter (_lightly_). Oh, I'll come soon. Let them wait. Jones. They won't wait. Peter. They'll have to. Jones (_imperatively_). You're coming now with me. Peter. No. I'll follow you. (_Reassuringly._) It's all right, man. I shan't be long. Jones. I'll report you to the Committee if you don't come at once. Peter. You can report me to the devil. Get along now, that's a good chap. I'm busy. Jones (_very earnestly_). Garside, I warn you. You know what a crowd's like when it gets out of hand. Peter. I tell you I'm coming. The longer you stay the longer it'll be before I get there. Jones (_making his best effort and meaning it_). If you don't come with me you'll have no need to get there. I shall bring them here to you. Fred. Oh, but you can't do that you know. Jones. Can't I? You tell him to come or I'll show you if I can't. Peter (_impatiently_). In a minute. Jones (_inexorably_). Now! Peter. No. Jones (_turning abruptly_). Very well, then. [_Exit Jones, slamming door. Fred, opens it after a moment._ Fred. I don't think the furniture's safe until he's out of the house. [_Exit Freddie._ Glad. (_excited and utterly sincere_). It must be glorious to be wanted like that, Mr. Garside. Isn't it risky to deny them when they call for you? Peter. I can do what I like with them. Glad. Why didn't you go? Peter. You know why not. Glad. (_sitting on Chesterfield_). Do I? Peter (_standing centre_). Every night I can make myself the master of a mob. It's no new joy to me to feel I've got them there in the hollow of my hand. I can't speak with you every night. That's why I didn't go. Glad. But is it wise? Peter. Wise? Glad. You mustn't spoil your chances, Mr. Garside. Peter. I won't spoil my chances of speaking with you. Glad. But if the crowd makes a disturbance? That man's malicious. He'll stir them up to mischief. Peter. I can calm them with a word. Glad. What confidence you have! Peter. Yes. In the power you give me. Glad. You don't let me shuffle off responsibility. Peter. You wouldn't want to if you could forget that you're Miss Mottram and I'm a working man. [_Low murmurs as of a distant crowd off, approaching and growing louder as the scene proceeds. Gladys catches it at once, and is alarmed. Peter, if he hears at all, is inattentive._ Glad. I really think you'd better go to them, Mr. Garside, before that man leads them here. Peter. Not long ago you were urging me to stay--to wait for Sir Jasper. Glad. Sir Jasper will be late. Peter. You said he'd be here soon.