"He won't go unless he has a brass band. He says he never has left
prison without a brass band to play him out, and he's not going to go
without one now."

"But surely that sort of thing is provided by his supporters and
admirers?" said the Prime Minister; "we can hardly be supposed to supply
a released prisoner with a brass band. How on earth could we defend it
on the Estimates?"

"His supporters say it is up to us to provide the music," said the Home
Secretary; "they say we put him in prison, and it's our affair to see
that he leaves it in a respectable manner. Anyway, he won't go unless he
has a band."

The telephone squealed shrilly; it was a trunk call from Nemesis.

"Poll opens in five minutes. Is Platterbaff out yet? In Heaven's name,
why--"

The Chief Organiser rang off.

"This is not a moment for standing on dignity," he observed bluntly;
"musicians must be supplied at once. Platterbaff must have his band."

"Where are you going to find the musicians?" asked the Home Secretary
wearily; "we can't employ a military band, in fact, I don't think he'd
have one if we offered it, and there ain't any others. There's a
musicians' strike on, I suppose you know."