Glad, (_rising, exasperated_). Mr. Garside, will you go? Peter (_shaking his head_). You haven't told me what I want to know. Glad. What is it? I'll tell you anything if you'll only go-go. Peter (_calmly_). Did I read the meaning in your eyes aright? (_A slight pause._) Did I? Glad, (_nervously glancing towards window_). I don't know what you mean. Peter. You do know. You won't tell me. Glad. I can't. Peter (_sitting centre_). Then I'll stay here till you do. Glad. And hold me responsible if your ragamuffins wreck the house. Peter. You've only to speak, and I'll see they don't come near. [_A moment's silence, then Freddie enters briskly._ Fred. I say, Mr. Garside, I'm afraid we must turn you out. Peter (_still sitting_). Oh, how's that? Fred. Your friend went off in no end of a rage. Said he'd bring your meeting here. Mohammed and the Mountain, don't you know? I really think you'd better go. We don't want to read the Riot Act. [_Gladys is at the window, peeping through blind._ Peter. The matter's out of my hands, Mr. Mottram. Fred. Why? Surely you can head them off. Peter. Easily. Fred. (_irritated_). Well, I wish you'd go and do it. Glad, (_at window_). They're there. There's a crowd coming round the corner now. Fred. You'll have to look lively. Come on, man. (_Trying to make him move._) Peter (_to Gladys, who is standing left_). Well, Miss Mottram? Fred, (_impatiently_). Oh, never mind her. Get along sharp. (_He opens door._) Peter. I'm ready when Miss Mottram gives the word. I shall know what she means if she says "Yes." Glad. I can't. Peter (_sitting in chair_). Then I stay here. [_Shouts below are heard: "Garside!" "We want Garside!" "Where's that silver-tongue?"_ Fred. Look here, this is getting beyond a joke. Peter. I'm only waiting for the word of command. Fred. Gladys, for God's sake say what he wants! Glad. No. [_Shouts more fiercely._ Fred, (_helplessly irritable_). Where the devil are the police? [_Lady Mottram rushes in hysterically._ Lady M. Mr. Garside, save us. Speak to them before they get violent. Peter (_coolly_). They're doing the speaking. (_Lady M. cries out inarticulately._) I'm waiting for Miss Mottram. Lady M. For Gladys? (_Top pane of the window is broken by a stone which falls between blind and window. Almost shrieking._) What's that? Peter. The voice of the people. Fred. They've a nasty way of talking. This looks serious. (_Crosses, picks up and quickly pockets the stone, which is a large one._) Lady M. Is it a big one? Fred. (_nonchalantly_). Size of a piece of wood. Glad. Very well, then. Yes. Peter (_rising briskly_). That's what I wanted. (_Crosses as if to open door, comes round to window, runs blind up, and steps out to balcony._) Glad, (_as he is at window_). I didn't mean it.