LATIMER. I am so glad. (As ANNE is helped) I shot this bird myself. (He looks at it through his glass) What is it, Dominic?
DOMINIC. Poulet en casserole with mushrooms, sir.
LATIMER. Poulet en casserole with mushrooms. I shot the mushrooms.... A large help for his lordship, Dominic. (To LEONARD) Let me introduce your chicken to you, Leonard. One of the Buff-Orpingtons. I daresay you know the family. His mother was a Wyandotte. He was just about to contract an alliance with one of the Rock girls, the Plymouth Rocks, when the accident happened.
[107](They are alone again now, plates and glasses well filled. LEONARD, who has been waiting impatiently for the Staff to go, pushes back his chair and gets up.)
LATIMER. Dear me! Not a third chair, surely?
LEONARD. Now look here, Mr. Latimer, this farce has gone on long enough. I do not propose to sit through a whole meal without some further explanation. Either we have that explanation now, or else—Anne, dear—or else we’ll be getting on our way.
LATIMER (thoughtfully). Ah, but which is your way?
LEONARD. Dover. My chauffeur seems to have got off the track a little, but if you can put us on to the Dover Road——
LATIMER (to himself). The Dover Road! The Dover Road! A dangerous road, my friends. And you’re travelling in the dark.
LEONARD. Really, Mr. Latimer, that needn’t frighten us.