FARRANT. [_Not to be impressed._] Perhaps it is O'Connell. My father made his money out of newspapers and I ride in a motor car and you came from Holyhead by train. What has all that to do with it? Why can't you make up your mind? You know in this sort of case one talks a lot ... and then does the usual thing. You must let Trebell off and that's all about it.

O'CONNELL. Indeed. And do they still think it worth while to administer an oath to your witnesses?

_He is interrupted by the flinging open of the door and the triumphant right-this-time-anyhow voice in which_ EDMUNDS _announces_ "Mr.

Trebell, my lord." _The general consternation expresses itself through_ HORSHAM, _who complains aloud and unreservedly._

HORSHAM. Good G.o.d.... No! Charles, I must give him notice at once ... he'll have to go. [_He apologises to the company._] I beg your pardon.

_By this time_ TREBELL _is in the room and has discovered the stranger, who stands to face him without emotion or anger_, BLACKBOROUGH'S _face wears the grimmest of smiles_, CANTELUPE _is sorry_, FARRANT _recovers from the fit of choking which seemed imminent and_ EDMUNDS, _dimly perceiving by now some fly in the perfect amber of his conduct, departs. The two men still face each other_, FARRANT _is prepared to separate them should they come to blows, and indeed is advancing in that antic.i.p.ation when_ O'CONNELL _speaks._

O'CONNELL. I am Justin O'Connell.

TREBELL. I guess that.

O'CONNELL. There's a dead woman between us, Mr. Trebell.

_A tremor sweeps over_ TREBELL; _then he speaks simply._

TREBELL. I wish she had not died.

O'CONNELL. I am called upon by your friends to save you from the consequences of her death. What have you to say about that?

TREBELL. I have been wondering what sort of expression the last of your care for her would find ... but not much. My wonder is at the power over me that has been given to something I despised.

_Only_ O'CONNELL _grasps his meaning. But he, stirred for the first time and to his very depths, drives it home._

O'CONNELL. Yes.... If I wanted revenge I have it. She was a worthless woman.

First my life and now yours! Dead because she was afraid to bear your child, isn't she?

TREBELL. [_In agony._] I'd have helped that if I could.

O'CONNELL. Not the shame ... not the wrong she had done me ... but just fear--fear of the burden of her woman-hood. And because of her my children are b.a.s.t.a.r.ds and cannot inherit my name. And I must live in sin against my church, as--G.o.d help me--I can't against my nature. What are men to do when this is how women use the freedom we have given them? Is the curse of barrenness to be nothing to a man? And that's the death in life to which you gentlemen with your fine civilisation are bringing us. I think we are brothers in misfortune, Mr. Trebell.

TREBELL. [_Far from responding._] Not at all, sir. If you wanted children you did the next best thing when she left you. My own problem is neither so simple nor is it yet anyone's business but my own. I apologise for alluding to it.

HORSHAM _takes advantage of the silence that follows._

HORSHAM. Shall we....

O'CONNELL. [_Measuring_ TREBELL _with his eyes._] And by which shall I help you to a solution ... telling lies or the truth to-morrow?

TREBELL. [_Roughly, almost insolently._] If you want my advice ... I should do the thing that comes more easily to you, or that will content you most.

If you haven't yet made up your mind as to the relative importance of my work and your conscience, it's too late to begin now. Nothing you may do can affect me.

HORSHAM. _[fluttering fearfully into this strange dispute._] O'Connell ...

if you and I were to join Wedgecroft....

O'CONNELL. You value your work more than anything else in the world?

TREBELL. Have I anything else in the world?

O'CONNELL. Have you not? [_With grim ambiguity._] Then I am sorry for you, Mr. Trebell. [_Having said all he had to say, he notices_ HORSHAM.] Yes, Lord Horsham, by all means....

_Then_ HORSHAM _opens the library door and sees him safely through. He pa.s.ses_ TREBELL _without any salutation, nor does_ TREBELL _turn after him; but when_ HORSHAM _also is in the library and the door is closed, comments viciously._

TREBELL. The man's a sentimentalist ... like all men who live alone or shut away. [_Then surveying his three glum companions, bursts out._] Well...? We can stop thinking of this dead woman, can't we? It's a waste of time.

FARRANT. Trebell, what did you want to come here for?

TREBELL. Because you thought I wouldn't. I knew you'd be sitting round, incompetent with distress, calculating to a nicety the force of a scandal....

BLACKBOROUGH. [_With the firmest of touches._] Horsham has called some of us here to discuss the situation. I am considering my opinion.

TREBELL. You are not, Blackborough. You haven't recovered yet from the shock of your manly feelings. Oh, cheer up. You know we're an adulterous and sterile generation. Why should you cry out at a proof now and then of what's always in the hearts of most of us?

FARRANT. [_Plaintively._] Now, for G.o.d's sake, Trebell ... O'Connell has been going on like that.

TREBELL. Well then ... think of what matters.

BLACKBOROUGH. Of you and your reputation in fact.

FARRANT. [_Kindly._] Why do you pretend to be callous?

_He strokes_ TREBELL'S _shoulder, who shakes him off impatiently._

TREBELL. Do you all mean to out-face the British Lion with me after to-morrow ... dare to be Daniels?

BLACKBOROUGH. Bravado won't carry this off.

TREBELL. Blackborough ... it would immortalize you. I'll stand up in my place in the House of Commons and tell everything that has befallen soberly and seriously. Why should I flinch?

FARRANT. My dear Trebell, if your name comes out at the inquest--

TREBELL. If it does!... whose has been the real offence against Society ...

hers or mine? It's I who am most offended ... if I choose to think so.

BLACKBOROUGH. You seem to forget the adultery.

TREBELL. Isn't Death divorce enough for her? And ... oh, wasn't I right?...

What do you start thinking of once the shock's over? Punishment ... revenge ... uselessness ... waste of me.

FARRANT. [_With finality._] If your name comes out at the inquest, to talk of anything but retirement from public life is perfect lunacy ... and you know it.

HORSHAM _comes back from the pa.s.sage. He is a little distracted; then the more so at finding himself again in a highly-charged atmosphere._

HORSHAM. He's gone off with Wedgecroft.

TREBELL. [_Including_ HORSHAM _now in his appeal._] Does anyone think he knows me now to be a worse man ... less fit, less able ... than he did a week ago?