HORSHAM. Not at this time of night. I'll post it.

CANTELUPE. I'll post it as I go.

_He seeks comfort again in the piano and this time starts to play, with one finger and some hesitation, the first bars of a Bach fugue_, HORSHAM'S _pen-nib is disappointing him and the letter is not easy to phrase._

HORSHAM. But I hate coming to immediate decisions. The administrative part of my brain always tires after half an hour. Does yours, Charles?

CANTELUPE. What do you think Trebell will do now?

HORSHAM. [_A little grimly._] Punish us all he can.

_On reaching the second voice in the fugue_ CANTELUPE'S _virtuosity breaks down._

CANTELUPE. All that ability turned to destructiveness ... what a pity!

That's the paradox of human activities....

_Suddenly_ HORSHAM _looks up and his face is lighted with a seraphic smile._

HORSHAM. Charles ... I wish we could do without Blackborough.

CANTELUPE. [_Struck with the idea._] Well ... why not?

HORSHAM. Yes ... I must think about it. [_They both get up, cheered considerably._] You won't forget this, will you?

CANTELUPE. [_The letter in_ HORSHAM'S _hand accusing him._] No ... no. I don't think I have been the cause of your dropping Trebell, have I?

HORSHAM, _rid of the letter, is rid of responsibility and his charming equable self again. He comforts his cousin paternally._

HORSHAM. I don't think so. The split would have come when Blackborough checkmated my forming a cabinet. It would have pleased him to do that ...

and he could have, over Trebell. But now that question's out of the way ...

you won't get such a bad measure with Trebell in opposition. He'll frighten us into keeping it up to the mark, so to speak.

CANTELUPE. [_A little comforted._] But I shall miss one or two of those ideas ...

HORSHAM. [_So pleasantly sceptical._] Do you think they'd have outlasted the second reading? Dullness in the country one expects. Dullness in the House one can cope with. But do you know, I have never sat in a cabinet yet that didn't greet anything like a new idea in chilling silence.

CANTELUPE. Well, I should regret to have caused you trouble, Cyril.

HORSHAM. [_His hand on the other's shoulder._] Oh ... we don't take politics so much to heart as that, I hope.

CANTELUPE. [_With sweet gravity._] I take politics very much to heart. Yes, I know what you mean ... but that's the sort of remark that makes people call you cynical. [HORSHAM _smiles as if at a compliment and starts with_ CANTELUPE _towards the door._ CANTELUPE, _who would not hurt his feelings, changes the subject._] By the bye, I'm glad we met this evening! Do you hear Aunt Mary wants to sell the Burford Holbein? Can she?

HORSHAM. [_Taking as keen, but no keener, an interest in this than in the difficulty he has just surmounted._] Yes, by the will she can, but she mustn't. Dear me, I thought I'd put a stop to that foolishness. Well now, we must take that matter up very seriously ...

_They go out talking arm in arm._

THE FOURTH ACT

At TREBELL'S again; later, the same evening.

_His room is in darkness but for the flicker the fire makes and the streaks of moonlight between the curtains. The door is open, though, and you see the light of the lamp on the stairs. You hear his footstep too. On his way he stops to draw back the the curtains of the pa.s.sage-way window; the moonlight makes his face look very pale. Then he serves the curtains of his own window the same; flings it open, moreover, and stands looking out. Something below draws his attention. After leaning over the balcony with a short_ "Hullo"

_he goes quickly downstairs again. In a minute_ WEDGECROFT _comes up._ TREBELL _follows, pausing by the door a moment to light up the room._ WEDGECROFT _is radiant._

TREBELL. [_With a twist of his mouth._] Promised, has he?

WEDGECROFT. Suddenly broke out as we walked along, that he liked the look of you and that men must stand by one another nowadays against these women.

Then he said good-night and walked away.

TREBELL. Back to Ireland and the thirteenth century.

WEDGECROFT. After to-morrow.

TREBELL. [_Taking all the meaning of to-morrow._] Yes. Are you in for perjury, too?

WEDGECROFT. [_His thankfulness checked a little._] No ... not exactly.

TREBELL _walks away from him._

TREBELL. It's a pity the truth isn't to be told, I think. I suppose the verdict will be murder.

WEDGECROFT. They won't catch the man.

TREBELL. You don't mean ... me.

WEDGECROFT. No, no ... my dear fellow.

TREBELL. You might, you know. But n.o.body seems to see this thing as I see it. If I were on that jury I'd say murder too and accuse ... so many circ.u.mstances, Gilbert, that we should go home ... and look in the cupboards. What a lumber of opinions we inherit and keep!

WEDGECROFT. [_Humouring him._] Ought we to burn the house down?

TREBELL. Rules and regulations for the preservation of rubbish are the laws of England ... and I was adding to their number.

WEDGECROFT. And so you shall ... to the applause of a grateful country.

TREBELL. [_Studying his friend's kindly encouraging face._] Gilbert, it is not so much that you're an incorrigible optimist ... but why do you subdue your mind to flatter people into cheerfulness?

WEDGECROFT. I'm a doctor, my friend.

TREBELL. You're a part of our tendency to keep things alive by hook or by crook ... not a spark but must be carefully blown upon. The world's old and tired; it dreads extinction. I think I disapprove ... I think I've more faith.

WEDGECROFT. [_Scolding him._] Nonsense ... you've the instinct to preserve your life as everyone else has ... and I'm here to show you how.

TREBELL. [_Beyond the reach of his kindness._] I a.s.sure you that these two days while you've been fussing around O'Connell--bless your kind heart--I've been waiting events, indifferent enough to understand his indifference.