The Title | Page 8

that if it fell the country would go to everlasting smash. Hence its first duty is to survive. In order to survive it must do three things--placate certain interests, influence votes, and obtain secret funds. All these three things can be accomplished by the ingenious institution of Honours. Only the simple-minded believe that Honours are given to honour. Honours are given to save the life of the Government. Hence the Honours List. Examine the Honours List and you can instantly tell how the Government feels in its inside. When the Honours List is full of rascals, millionaires, and--er--chumps, you may be quite sure that the Government is dangerously ill.
TRANTO. But that amounts to what we've been saying in The Echo to-day.
CULVER. Yes, I've read the The Echo.
JOHN. I thought you never had a free moment at the office--always rushed to death--at least that's the mater's theory.
CULVER. I've read The Echo, and my one surprise is that you're here to-night, Tranto.
TRANTO. Why?
CULVER. I quite thought you'd have been shoved into the Tower under the Defence of the Realm Act. Or Sampson Straight, anyway. (Hildegarde starts.) Your contributor has committed the unpardonable sin of hitting the nail on the head. He might almost have seen an advance copy of the Honours List.
TRANTO. He hadn't. Nor had I. Who's in it?
CULVER. You might ask who isn't in it. (Taking a paper from his pocket.) Well, Gentletie's in it. He gets a knighthood.
TRANTO. Never heard of him. Who is he?
HILDEGARDE. Oh, yes, you've heard of him. (John glances at her severely.) He's M.P. for some earthly paradise or other in the South Riding.
TRANTO. Oh!
CULVER. Perhaps I might read you something written by my private secretary--he's one of these literary wags. You see there's been a demand that the Government should state clearly, in every case of an Honour, exactly what services the Honour is given for. This (_taking paper from his pocket_) is supposed to be the stuff sent round to the Press by the Press Bureau. (Reads.) 'Mr. Gentletie has gradually made a solid reputation for himself as the dullest man in the House of Commons. Whenever he rises to his feet the House empties as if by magic. In cases of inconvenience, when the Government wishes abruptly to close a debate by counting out the House, it has invariably put up Mr. Gentletie to speak. The device has never been known to fail. Nobody can doubt that Mr. Gentletie's patriotic devotion to the Allied cause well merits the knighthood which is now bestowed on him.'
JOHN (astounded.) Stay me with flagons!
TRANTO. So that's that! And who else?
CULVER. Another of your esteemed uncles.
TRANTO. Well, that's not very startling, seeing that my uncle's chief daily organ is really a department of the Government.
JOHN. What I say is--
HILDEGARDE (simultaneously with John). Wouldn't it be more correct--(_continuing alone_) wouldn't it be more correct to say that the Government is really a department of your uncle's chief daily organ?
JOHN. Hilda, old girl, I wish you wouldn't interrupt. Cookery's your line.
HILDEGARDE. Sorry, Johnnie. I see I was in danger of becoming unsexed.
CULVER (to John). Yes? You were about to say?
JOHN. Oh, nothing.
CULVER (to Tranto). Shall I read the passage on your uncle?
TRANTO. Don't trouble. Who's the next?
CULVER. The next is--Ullivant, munitions manufacturer. Let me see. (Reads.) By the simple means of saying that the cost price of shells was eighteen shillings and ninepence each, whereas it was in fact only ten shillings and ninepence, Mr. Joshua Ullivant has made a fortune of two million pounds during the war. He has given a hundred thousand to the Prince of Wales's Fund, a hundred thousand to the Red Cross, and a hundred thousand to the party funds. Total net profit on the war, one million seven hundred thousand pounds, not counting the peerage which is now bestowed upon him, and which it must be admitted is a just reward for his remarkable business acumen.'
TRANTO. Very agreeable fellow Ullivant is, nevertheless.
CULVER. Oh, he is. They're most of them too damned agreeable for anything. Another prominent name is Orlando Bush.
TRANTO. Ah!
MRS. CULVER. I've met his wife. She dances beautifully at charity matinees.
CULVER. No doubt. But apparently that's not the reason.
TRANTO. I know Orlando. I've just bought the serial rights of his book.
CULVER. Have you paid him?
TRANTO. No.
CULVER. How wise of you! (_Reads_). 'Mr. Orlando Bush has written a historical sketch, with many circumstantial details, of the political origins of the present Government. For his forbearance in kindly consenting to withold publication until the end of the war Mr. Bush receives a well-earned'--
TRANTO. What?
CULVER. Knighthood.
TRANTO. Cheap! But what a sell for me!
CULVER. Now, ladies and gentlemen, the last name with which I will trouble you is that of Mr. James Brill.
TRANTO. Not Jimmy Brill!
CULVER. Jimmy Brill.
TRANTO. But he's a--
CULVER. Stop, my dear Tranto. No