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?