[From the "communication trench" appears LITTLE ANNE, followed by a thin, sharp, sallow-faced man of thirty-five or so, and another FOOTMAN, carrying a wine-cooler.] L. ANNE. I've brought the bucket, and the Press. 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. PRESS. [Uneasy] I say this is medieval. [He attempts to pass.] POULDER. [Barring the way] Not so! James, put him up in that empty 'ock bin. We can't have dinner disturbed in any way.