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HANNO: Waiter! Get me a copy of The Times. [Mutters to himself. The waiter brings the copy of The Times. As he gives it to Hanno he collides with another member of the Club, and that member, already advanced in years, treads upon Hanno’s foot.]

Hanno: Ah! Ah! Ah!... Oh! [with a grunt]. Bethaal, it’s you, is it?

Bethaal: Gouty?

Hanno [after saying nothing for some time]: ’Xtraordinary thing.... Nothing in the papers.

Bethaal: Nothing odd about that! [He laughs rather loudly, and Hanno, who wishes he had said the witty thing, smirks gently without enthusiasm. Then he proceeds on another track.] I find plenty in the papers! [He puffs like a grampus.]

Hanno: Plenty about yourself!... That’s the only good of politics, and precious little good either.... What I can’t conceive—as you do happen to be the in’s and not the out’s—is why you don’t send more men from somewhere; he has asked for them often enough.

Bethaal [wisely]: They’re all against it; couldn’t get anyone to agree but little Schem [laughs loudly]; he’d agree to anything.

Hanno [wagging his head sagely]: He’ll be Suffete, my boy! He’ll be a Sephad all right! He’s my sister’s own boy.

Bethaal [surlily]: Shouldn’t wonder! All you Hannos get the pickings.

Hanno: You talk like a book.... Anyhow, what about the reinforcements?—that does interest me.

Bethaal [wearily]: Oh, really. I’ve heard about it until I’m tired. It isn’t the reinforcements that are wanted really; it’s money, and plenty of it. That’s what it is. [He looks about the room in search for a word.] That’s what it is. [He continues to look about the room.] That’s what it is ... er ... really. [Having found the word Bethaal is content, and Hanno remains silent for a few minutes, then:]

Hanno: He doesn’t seem to be doing much.

Bethaal [jumping up suddenly with surprising vigour for a man of close on seventy, and sticking his hands into his pockets, if Carthaginians had pockets]: That’s it! That’s exactly it! That’s what I say, What Hannibal really wants is money. He’s got the men right enough. The men are splendid, but all those putrid little Italian towns are asking to be bribed, and I can’t get the money out of Mohesh.

Hanno [really interested]: Yes, now? Mohesh has got the old tradition, and I do believe it’s the sound one. Our money is as important to us as our Fleet, I mean our credit’s as important to us as our Fleet, and he’s perfectly right is Mohesh.... [Firmly] I wouldn’t let you have a penny if I were at the Treasury.

Bethaal [surlily]: Well, he’s bound to take Rome at last anyway, so I don’t suppose it matters whether he has the money or not; but it makes me look like a fool. When everything was going well I didn’t care, but I do care now. [He holds up in succession three fat fingers]. First there was Drephia——

Hanno [interrupting]: Trebbia.

Bethaal: Oh, well, I don’t care.... Then there was Trasimene; then there was that other place which wasn’t marked on the map, and little Schem found for me in the very week in which I got him on to the Front Bench. You remember his speech?

[Hanno shakes his head.]

Bethaal [impatiently]: Oh well, anyhow you remember Cannae, don’t you?

Hanno: Oh yes, I remember Cannae.

Bethaal: Well, he’s bound to win. He’s bound to take the place, and then [wearily], then, as poor old Hashuah said at the Guildhall, “Annexation will be inevitable.”

Hanno: Now, look here, may I put it to you shortly?

Bethaal [in great dread]: All right.

Hanno [leaning forward in an earnest way, and emphasising what he says]: All you men who get at the head of a Department only think of the work of that Department. That’s why you talk about Hannibal’s being bound to win. Of course he’s bound to win; but Carthage all hangs together, and if he wins at too great a price in money you’re weakened, and your son is weakened, and all of us are weakened. We shall be paying five per cent where we used to pay four. Things don’t go in big jumps; they go in gradations, and I do assure you that if you don’t send more men——

Bethaal [interrupting impatiently]: Oh, curse all that! One can easily see where you were brought up; you smell of Athens like a Don, and you make it worse by living out in the country, reading books and publishing pamphlets and putting people’s backs up for nothing. If you’d ever been in politics—I mean, if you hadn’t got pilled by three thousand at....

[At this moment an obese and exceedingly stupid Carthaginian of the name of Matho strolls into the smoking-room of the club, sees the two great men, becomes radiant with a mixture of reverence, admiration, and pride of acquaintance, and makes straight for them.]

Hanno: Who on earth’s that? Know him?

Bethaal [in a whisper astonishingly vivacious and angry for so old a man]: Shut your mouth, can’t you? He’s the head of my association! He’s the Mayor of the town!

Matho: Room for little un? [He laughs genially and sits down, obviously wanting an introduction to Hanno.]

Bethaal [nervously]: I haven’t seen you for ages, my dear fellow! I hope Lady Matho’s better? [Turning to Hanno] Do you know Lady Matho?

Hanno [gruffly]: Lady Who?

Bethaal [really angry, and savage on that half of his face which is turned towards Hanno]: This gentleman’s wife!

Matho [showing great tact and speaking very rapidly in order to bridge over an unpleasant situation]: Wonderful chap this Hannibal! Dogged does it! No turning back! Once that man puts his hand to the plough he won’t take it off till he’s [tries hard, and fails to remember what a plough does—then suddenly remembering] till he’s finished his furrow. That’s where blood tells! Same thing in Tyre, same thing in Sidon, same thing in Tarshish; I don’t care who it is, whether it’s poor Barca, or that splendid old chap Mohesh, whom they call “Sterling Dick.” They’ve all got the blood in them, and they don’t know when they’re beaten. Now [as though he had something important to say which had cost him years of thought], shall I tell you what I think produces men like Hannibal? I don’t think it’s the climate, though there’s a lot to be said for that. And I don’t think it’s the sea, though there’s a lot to be said for that. I think it’s our old Carthaginian home-life [triumphantly]. That’s what it is! It isn’t even hunting, though there’s a lot to be said for that. It’s the old—— [Hanno suddenly gets up and begins walking away.]

Bethaal [leaning forwards to Matho]: Please don’t mind my cousin. You know he’s a little odd when he meets anyone for the first time; but he’s a really good fellow at heart, and he’ll help anyone. But, of course [smiling gently], he doesn’t understand politics any more than—— [Matho waves his hand to show that he understands.] But such a good fellow! Do you know Lady Hanno? [They continue talking, chiefly upon the merits of Hannibal, but also upon their own.]