THE THIRD ACT

cantelupe.Statutes?

trebell.To be framed in the best interests of educational efficiency.

cantelupe.[Finding an opening.] I doubt if we agree upon the meaning to be attached to that term.

trebell.[Forcing the issue.] What meaning do you attach to it?

cantelupe.[Smiling again.] I have hardly a sympathetic listener.

trebell.You have an unprejudiced one . . the best you can hope for. I was not educated myself. I learnt certain things that I desired to know . . from reading my first book—Don Quixote it was—to mastering Company Law. You see, as a man without formulaseither for education or religion, I am perhaps peculiarly fitted to settle the double question. I have no grudges . . no revenge to take.

cantelupe.[Suddenly congenial.] Shelton's translation of Don Quixote I hope . . the modern ones have no flavour. And you took all the adventures as seriously as the Don did?

trebell.[Not expecting this.] I forget.

cantelupe.It's the finer attitude . . the child's attitude. And it would enable you immediately to comprehend mine towards an education consisting merely of practical knowledge. The life of Faith is still the happy one. What is more crushingly finite than knowledge? Moral discipline is a nation's only safety. How much of your science tends in support of the great spiritual doctrine of sacrifice!

trebellreturns to his subject as forceful as ever.

trebell.The Church has assimilated much in her time. Do you think it wise to leave agnostic science at the side of the plate? I think, you know, that this craving for common knowledge is a new birth in the mind of man; and if your church won't recognise that soon, by so much will she be losing her grip for ever over men's minds. What's the test of godliness, but your power to receive the new idea in whatever form it comes and give it life? It is blasphemy to pick and choose your good. [For a moment his thoughts seem to be elsewhere.] That's an unhappy man or woman or nation . . I know it if it has only come to me this minute . . and I don't care what their brains or their riches or their beauty or any of their triumph may be . . they're unhappy and useless if they can't tell life from death.

cantelupe.[Interested in the digression.] Remember that the Church's claim has ever been to know that difference.

trebell.[Fastening to his subject again.] Mypoint is this: A man's demand to know the exact structure of a fly's wing, and his assertion that it degrades any child in the street not to know such a thing, is a religious revival . . a token of spiritual hunger. What else can it be? And we commercialise our teaching!

cantelupe.I wouldn't have it so.

trebell.Then I'm offering you the foundation of a new Order of men and women who'll serve God by teaching his children. Now shall we finish the conversation in prose?

cantelupe.[Not to be put down.] What is the prose for God?

trebell.[Not to be put down either.] That's what we irreligious people are giving our lives to discover. [He plunges into detail.] I'm proposing to found about seventy-two new colleges, and of course, to bring the ones there are up to the new standard. Then we must gradually revise all teaching salaries in government schools . . to a scale I have in mind. Then the course must be compulsory and the training time doubled—

cantelupe.Doubled! Four years?

trebell.Well, a minimum of three . . a university course. Remember we're turning a trade into a calling.

cantelupe.There's more to that than taking a degree.

trebell.I think so. You've fought for years for your tests and your atmosphere with plain business men not able to understand such lunacy. Quite right . . atmosphere's all that matters. If one and one don't make two by God's grace . . .

cantelupe.Poetry again!

trebell.I beg your pardon. Well . . you've no further proof. If you can't plant your thumb on the earth and your little finger on the pole star you know nothing of distances. We must do away with text-book teachers.

cantelupeis opening out a little in spite of himself.

cantelupe.I'm waiting for our opinions to differ.

trebell.[Businesslike again.] I'll send you a draft of the statutes I propose within a week. Meanwhile shall I put the offer this way. If I accept your tests will you accept mine?

cantelupe.What are yours?

trebell.I believe if one provides for efficiency one provides for the best part of truth . . honesty of statement. I shall hope for a little more elasticity in your dogmas than Becket or Cranmer or Laud would have allowed. When you've a chance to re-formulate the reasons of your faith for the benefit of men teaching mathematics and science and history and political economy, you won't neglect to answer or allow for criticisms and doubts. I don't see why . . in spite of all the evidence to the contrary . . such a thing as progress in a definite religious faith is impossible.

cantelupe.Progress is a soiled word. [And now he weighs his words.] I shall be very glad to accept on the Church's behalf control of the teaching of teachers in these colleges.

trebell.Good. I want the best men.

cantelupe.You are surprisingly inexperienced if you think that creeds can ever become mere forms except to those who have none.

trebell.But teaching—true teaching—is learning, and the wish to know is going to prevail against any creed . . so I think. I wish you cared as little for the form in which a truth is told as I do. On the whole, you see, I think I shall manage to plant your theology in such soil this spring that the garden will be fruitful. On the whole I'm a believer in Churches of all sorts and their usefulness to the State. Your present use is out-worn. Have I found you in this the beginnings of a new one?

cantelupe.The Church says: Thank you, it is a very old one.

trebell.[Winding up the interview.] To be sure, for practical politics our talk can be whittled down to youraccepting the secular solution for Primary Schools, if you're given these colleges under such statutes as you and I shall agree upon.

cantelupe.And the country will accept.

trebell.The country will accept any measure if there's enough money in it to bribe all parties fairly.

cantelupe.You expect very little of the constancy of my Church to her Faith, Mr. Trebell.

trebell.I have only one belief myself. That is in human progress—yes, progress—over many obstacles and by many means. I have no ideals. I believe it is statesmanlike to use all the energy you find . . turning it into the nearest channel that points forward.

cantelupe.Forward to what?

trebell.I don't know . . and my caring doesn't matter. We do know . . and if we deny it it's only to be encouraged by contradiction . . that the movement is forward and with some gathering purpose. I'm friends with any fellow traveller.

cantelupehas been considering him very curiously. Now he gets up to go.

cantelupe.I should like to continue our talk when I've studied your draft of the statutes. Of course the political position is favourable to a far more comprehensive bill than we had ever looked for . . and you've the advantage now of having held yourself very free from party ties. In fact not only will you give us the bill we shall most care to accept, but I don't know what other man would give us a bill we and the other side could accept at all.

trebell.I can let you have more Appropriation figures by Friday. The details of the Fabrics scheme will take a little longer.

cantelupe.In a way there's no such hurry. We're not in office yet.

trebell.When I'm building with figures I like togive the foundations time to settle. Otherwise they are the inexactest things.

cantelupe.[Smiling to him for the first time.] We shall have you finding Faith the only solvent of all problems some day.

trebell.I hope my mind is not afraid . . even of the Christian religion.

cantelupe.I am sure that the needs of the human soul . . be it dressed up in whatever knowledge . . do not alter from age to age . .

He opens the door to findwedgecroftstanding outside, watch in hand.

trebell.Hullo . . . waiting?

wedgecroft.I was giving you two minutes by my watch. How are you, Cantelupe?

cantelupe,with a gesture which might be mistaken for a bow, folds himself up.

trebell.Shall I bring you the figures on Friday . . that might save time.

cantelupe,by taking a deeper fold in himself seems to assent.

trebell.Will the afternoon do? Kent shall fix the hour.

cantelupe.[With an effort.] Kent?

trebell.My secretary.

cantelupe.Friday. Any hour before five. I know my way.

The three phrases having meant three separate efforts,cantelupeescapes.wedgecrofthas walked to the table, his brows a little puckered. Nowtrebellnotices thatkent'sdoor is open; he goes quickly into the room and finds it empty. Then he stands for a moment irritable and undecided before returning.

trebell.Been here long?

wedgecroft.Five minutes . . more, I suppose.

trebell.Mrs. O'Connell gone?

wedgecroft.To her dressmaker's.

trebell.Frances forgot she was coming and went out.

wedgecroft.Pretty little fool of a woman! D'you know her husband?

trebell.No.

wedgecroft.Says she's been in Ireland with him since we met at Shapters. He has trouble with his tenantry.

trebell.Won't he sell or won't they purchase?

wedgecroft.Curious chap. A Don at Balliol when I first knew him. Warped of late years . . perhaps by his marriage.

trebell.[Dismissing that subject.] Well . . how's Percival?

wedgecroft.Better this morning. I told him I'd seen you . . and in a little calculated burst of confidence what I'd reason to think you were after. He said you and he could get on though you differed on every point; but he didn't see how you'd pull with such a blasted weak-kneed lot as the rest of the Horsham's cabinet would be. He'll be up in a week or ten days.

trebell.Can I see him?

wedgecroft.You might. I admire the old man . . the way he sticks to his party, though they misrepresent now most things he believes in!

trebell.What a damnable state to arrive at . . doubly damned by the fact you admire it.

wedgecroft.And to think that at this time of day you should need instructing in the ethics of party government. But I'll have to do it.

trebell.Not now. I've been at ethics with Cantelupe.

wedgecroft.Certainly not now. What about my man with the stomach-ache at twelve o'clock sharp! Good-bye.

He is gone.trebellbattles with uneasiness andat last mutters. "Oh . . why didn't she wait?"Then the telephone bell rings. He goes quickly as if it were an answer to his anxiety."Yes?"Of course, it isn't . ."Yes."He paces the room, impatient, wondering what to do. The Maid comes in to announcemiss davenport.lucyfollows her. She has gained lately perhaps a little of the joy which was lacking and at least she brings now into this room a breath of very wholesome womanhood.

lucy.It's very good of you to let me come; I'm not going to keep you more than three minutes.

trebell.Sit down.

Only women unused to busy men would call him rude.

lucy.What I want to say is . . don't mind my being engaged to Walter. It shan't interfere with his work for you. If you want a proof that it shan't . . it was I got Aunt Julia to ask you to take him . . Though he didn't know . . so don't tell him that.

trebell.You weren't engaged then.

lucy.I . . thought that we might be.

trebell.[With cynical humour.] Which I'm not to tell him either?

lucy.Oh, that wouldn't matter.

trebell.[With decision.] I'll make sure you don't interfere.

lucy.[Deliberately . . not to be treated as a child.] You couldn't, you know, if I wanted to.

trebell.Why, is Walter a fool?

lucy.He's very fond of me, if that's what you mean?

trebelllooks at her for the first time and changes his tone a little.

trebell.If it was what I meant . . I'm disposed to withdraw the suggestion.

lucy.And, because I'm fond of his work as well, I shan't therefore ask him to tell me things . . secrets.

trebell.[Reverting to his humour.] It'll be when you're a year or two married that danger may occur . . in his desperate effort to make conversation.

lucyconsiders this and him quite seriously.

lucy.You're rather hard on women, aren't you . . just because they don't have the chances men do.

trebell.Do you want the chances?

lucy.I think I'm as clever as most men I meet, though I know less, of course.

trebell.Perhaps I should have offered you the secretaryship instead.

lucy.[Readily.] Don't you think I'm taking it in a way . . by marrying Walter? That's fanciful of course. But marriage is a very general and complete sort of partnership, isn't it? At least, I'd like to make mine so.

trebell.He'll be more under your thumb in some things if you leave him free in others.

She receives the sarcasm in all seriousness and then speaks to him as she would to a child.

lucy.Oh . . I'm not explaining what I mean quite well perhaps. Walter has been everywhere and done everything. He speaks three languages . . which all makes him an ideal private secretary.

trebell.Quite.

lucy.Do you think he'd develop into anything else . . but for me?

trebell.So I have provided just a first step, have I?

lucy.[With real enthusiasm.] Oh, Mr. Trebell, it's a great thing for us. There isn't anyone worth working under but you. You'll make him think and give him ideas instead of expecting them from him. But just for that reason he'd get so attached to you and be quite content to grow old in your shadow . . if it wasn't for me.

trebell.True . . I should encourage him in nothingness. What's more, I want extra brains and hands. It'snot altogether a pleasant thing, is it . . the selfishness of the hard worked man?

lucy.If you don't grudge your own strength, why should you be tender of other people's?

He looks at her curiously.

trebell.Your ambition is making for only second-hand satisfaction though.

lucy.What's a woman to do? She must work through men, mustn't she?

trebell.I'm told that's degrading . . the influencing of husbands and brothers and sons.

lucy.[Only half humorously.] But what else is one to do with them? Of course, I've enough money to live on . . so I could take up some woman's profession. . . What are you smiling at?

trebell.[Who has smiled very broadly.] As you don't mean to . . don't stop while I tell you.

lucy.But I'd sooner get married. I want to have children. [The words catch him and hold him. He looks at her reverently this time. She remembers she has transgressed convention; then, remembering that it is only convention, proceeds quite simply.] I hope we shall have children.

trebell.I hope so.

lucy.Thank you. That's the first kind thing you've said.

trebell.Oh . . you can do without compliments, can't you?

She considers for a moment.

lucy.Why have you been talking to me as if I were someone else?

trebell.[Startled.] Who else?

lucy.No one particular. But you've shaken a moral fist so to speak. I don't think I provoked it.

trebell.It's a bad parliamentary habit. I apologise.

She gets up to go.

lucy.Now I shan't keep you longer . . you're always busy. You've been so easy to talk to. Thank you very much.

trebell.Why . . I wonder?

lucy.I knew you would be or I shouldn't have come. You think Life's an important thing, don't you? That's priggish, isn't it? Good-bye. We're coming to dinner . . Aunt Julia and I. Miss Trebell arrived to ask us just as I left.

trebell.I'll see you down.

lucy.What waste of time for you. I know how the door opens.

As she goes outwalter kentis on the way to his room. The two nod to each other like old friends.trebellturns away with something of a sigh.

kent.Just come?

lucy.Just going.

kent.I'll see you at dinner.

lucy.Oh, are you to be here? . . that's nice.

lucydeparts as purposefully as she came.kenthurries totrebell,whose thoughts are away again by now.

kent.I haven't been long there and back, have I? The Bishop gave me these letters for you. He hasn't answered the last . . but I've his notes of what he means to say. He'd like them back to-night. He was just going out. I've one or two notes of what Evans said. Bit of a charlatan, don't you think?

trebell.Evans?

kent.Well, he talked of his Flock. There are quite fifteen letters you'll have to deal with yourself, I'm afraid.

trebellstares at him: then, apparently, making up his mind. .

trebell.Ring up a messenger, will you . . I must write a note and send it.

kent.Will you dictate?

trebell.I shall have done it while you're ringing . . it's only a personal matter. Then we'll start work.

kentgoes into his room and tackles the telephone there.trebellsits down to write the note, his face very set and anxious.

Atlord horsham'shouse in Queen Anne's Gate, in the evening, a week later.

If rooms express their owners' character, the grey and black oflord horsham'sdrawing room, the faded brocade of its furniture, reveal him as a man of delicate taste and somewhat thin intellectuality. He stands now before a noiseless fire, contemplating with a troubled eye either the pattern of the Old French carpet, or the black double doors of the library opposite, or the moulding on the Adams ceiling, which the flicker of all the candles casts into deeper relief. His grey hair and black clothes would melt into the decoration of his room, were the figure not rescued from such oblivion by the British white glaze of his shirt front and—to a sympathetic eye—by the loveable perceptive face of the man. Sometimes he looks at the sofa in front of him, on which sitswedgecroft,still in the frock coat of a busy day, depressed and irritable. With his back to them, on a sofa with its back to them, isgeorge farrant,planted with his knees apart, his hands clasped, his head bent; very glum. And sometimeshorshamglances at the door, as if waiting for it to open. Then his gaze will travel back, up the long shiny black piano, with a volume of the Well Tempered Clavichord open on its desk, to wherecantelupeis perched uncomfortably on the bench; paler than ever; more self-contained than ever, looking, to one who knows him as well ashorshamdoes, alittle dangerous. So he returns to contemplation of the ceiling or the carpet. They wait there as men wait who have said all they want to say upon an unpleasant subject and yet cannot dismiss it. At lastfarrantbreaks the silence.

farrant.What time did you ask him to come, Horsham?

horsham.Eh . . O'Connell? I didn't ask him directly. What time did you say, Wedgecroft?

wedgecroft.Any time after half past ten, I told him.

farrant.[Grumbling.] It's a quarter to eleven. Doesn't Blackborough mean to turn up at all?

horsham.He was out of town . . my note had to be sent after him. I couldn't wire, you see.

farrant.No.

cantelupe.It was by the merest chance your man caught me, Cyril. I was taking the ten fifteen to Tonbridge and happened to go to James Street first for some papers.

The conversation flags again.

cantelupe.But since Mrs. O'Connell is dead what is the excuse for a scandal?

At this unpleasant dig into the subject of their thoughts the three other men stir uncomfortably.

horsham.Because the inquest is unavoidable . . apparently.

wedgecroft.[Suddenly letting fly.] I declare I'd have risked penal servitude and given a certificate, but just before the end O'Connell would call in old Fielding Andrews, who has moral scruples about everything—it's his trademark—and of course about this . . !

farrant.Was he told of the whole business?

wedgecroft.No . . O'Connell kept things up before him. Well . . the woman was dying.

horsham.Couldn't you have kept the true state of the case from Sir Fielding?

wedgecroft.And been suspected of the malpractice myself if he'd found it out? . . which he would have done . . he's no fool. Well . . I thought of trying that. . .

farrant.My dear Wedgecroft . . how grossly quixotic! You have a duty to yourself.

horsham.[Rescuing the conversation from unpleasantness.] I'm afraid I feel that our position to-night is most irregular, Wedgecroft.

wedgecroft.Still if you can make O'Connell see reason. And if you all can't . . [He frowns at the alternative.]

cantelupe.Didn't you say she came to you first of all?

wedgecroft.I met her one morning at Trebell's.

farrant.Actually at Trebell's!

wedgecroft.The day he came back from abroad.

farrant.Oh! No one seems to have noticed them together much at any time. My wife. . . No matter!

wedgecroft.She tackled me as a doctor with one part of her trouble . . added she'd been with O'Connell in Ireland, which of course it turns out wasn't true . . asked me to help her. I had to say I couldn't.

horsham.[Echoing rather than querying.] You couldn't.

farrant.[Shocked.] My dear Horsham!

wedgecroft.Well, if she'd told me the truth! . . No, anyhow I couldn't. I'm sure there was no excuse. One can't run these risks.

farrant.Quite right, quite right.

wedgecroft.There are men who do on one pretext or another.

farrant.[Not too shocked to be curious.] Are there really?

wedgecroft.Oh yes, men well known . . in other directions. I could give you four addresses . . but of course I wasn't going to give her one. Though there again . . if she'd told me the whole truth! . . My God,women are such fools! And they prefer quackery . . look at the decent doctors they simply turn into charlatans. Though, there again, that all comes of letting a trade work mysteriously under the thumb of a benighted oligarchy . . which is beside the question. But one day I'll make you sit up on the subject of the Medical Council, Horsham.

horshamassumes an impenetrable air of statesmanship.

horsham.I know. Very interesting . . very important . . very difficult to alter the status quo.

wedgecroft.Then the poor little liar said she'd go off to an appointment with her dressmaker; and I heard nothing more till she sent for me a week later, and I found her almost too ill to speak. Even then she didn't tell me the truth! So, when O'Connell arrived, of course I spoke to him quite openly and all he told me in reply was that it wouldn't have been his child.

farrant.Poor devil!

wedgecroft.O'Connell?

farrant.Yes, of course.

wedgecroft.I wonder. Perhaps she didn't realize he'd been sent for . . or felt then she was dying and didn't care . . or lost her head. I don't know.

farrant.Such a pretty little woman!

wedgecroft.If I could have made him out and dealt with him, of course, I shouldn't have come to you. Farrant's known him even longer than I have.

farrant.I was with him at Harrow.

wedgecroft.So I went to Farrant first.

That part of the subject drops.cantelupe,who has not moved, strikes in again.

cantelupe.How was Trebell's guilt discovered?

farrant.He wrote her one letter which she didn't destroy. O'Connell found it.

wedgecroft.Picked it up from her desk . . it wasn't even locked up.

farrant.Not twenty words in it . . quite enough though.

horsham.His habit of being explicit . . of writing things down . . I know!

He shakes his head, deprecating all rashness. There is another pause.farrant,getting up to pace about, breaks it.

farrant.Look here, Wedgecroft, one thing is worrying me. Had Trebell any foreknowledge of what she did and the risk she was running and could he have stopped it?

wedgecroft.[Almost ill-temperedly.] How could he have stopped it?

farrant.Because . . well, I'm not a casuist . . but I know by instinct when I'm up against the wrong thing to do; and if he can't be cleared on that point I won't lift a finger to save him.

horsham.[With nice judgment.] In using the term Any Foreknowledge, Farrant, you may be more severe on him than you wish to be.

farrant,unappreciative, continues.

farrant.Otherwise . . well, we must admit, Cantelupe, that if it hadn't been for the particular consequence of this it wouldn't be anything to be so mightily shocked about.

cantelupe.I disagree.

farrant.My dear fellow, it's our business to make laws and we know the difference of saying in one of 'em you may or you must. Who ever proposed to insist on pillorying every case of spasmodic adultery? One would never have done! Some of these attachments do more harm . . to the third party, I mean . . some less. But it's only when a menage becomes socially impossible that a sensible man will interfere. [He adds quite unnecessarily.] I'm speaking quite impersonally, of course.

cantelupe.[As coldly as ever.] Trebell is morally responsible for every consequence of the original sin.

wedgecroft.That is a hard saying.

farrant.[Continuing his own remarks quite independently.] And I put aside the possibility that he deliberately helped her to her death to save a scandal because I don't believe it is a possibility. But if that were so I'd lift my finger to help him to his. I'd see him hanged with pleasure.

wedgecroft.[Settling this part of the matter.] Well, Farrant, to all intents and purposes he didn't know and he'd have stopped it if he could.

farrant.Yes, I believe that. But what makes you so sure?

wedgecroft.I asked him and he told me.

farrant.That's no proof.

wedgecroft.You read the letter that he sent her . . unless you think it was written as a blind.

farrant.Oh . . to be sure . . yes. I might have thought of that.

He settles down again. Again no one has anything to say.

cantelupe.What is to be said to Mr. O'Connell when he comes?

horsham.Yes . . what exactly do you propose we shall say to O'Connell, Wedgecroft?

wedgecroft.Get him to open his oyster of a mind and . . .

farrant.So it is and his face like a stone wall yesterday. Absolutely refused to discuss the matter with me!

cantelupe.May I ask, Cyril, why are we concerning ourselves with this wickedness at all?

horsham.Just at this moment when we have official weight without official responsibility, Charles . .

wedgecroft.I wish I could have let Percival out of bed, but these first touches of autumn are dangerous to a convalescent of his age.

horsham.But you saw him, Farrant . . and he gave you his opinion, didn't he?

farrant.Last night . . yes.

horsham.I suppose it's a pity Blackborough hasn't turned up.

farrant.Never mind him.

horsham.He gets people to agree with him. That's a gift.

farrant.Wedgecroft, what is the utmost O'Connell will be called upon to do for us . . for Trebell?

wedgecroft.Probably only to hold his tongue at the inquest to-morrow. As far as I know there's no one but her maid to prove that Mrs. O'Connell didn't meet her husband some time in the summer. He'll be called upon to tell a lie or two by implication.

farrant.Cantelupe . . what does perjury to that extent mean to a Roman Catholic?

cantelupe'sface melts into an expression of mild amazement.

cantelupe.Your asking such a question shows that you would not understand my answer to it.

farrant.[Leaving the fellow to his subtleties.] Well, what about the maid?

wedgecroft.She may suspect facts but not names, I think. Why should they question her on such a point if O'Connell says nothing?

horsham.He's really very late. I told . . [He stops.] Charles, I've forgotten that man's name again.

cantelupe.Edmunds, you said it was.

horsham.Edmunds. Everybody's down at Lympne . . I've been left with a new man here and I don't know his name. [He is very pathetic.] I told him to put O'Connell in the library there. I thought that either Farrant or I might perhaps see him first and—

At this momentedmundscomes in, and, with that air of discreet tact which he considers befits the establishment of a Prime Minister, announces, "Mr. O'Connell, my lord."Aso'connellfollows him,horshamcan only try not to look too disconcerted.o'connell,in his tightly buttoned frock coat, with his shaven face and close-cropped iron grey hair, might be mistaken for a Catholic priest; except that he has not also acquired the easy cheerfulness which professional familiarity with the mysteries of that religion seems to give. For the moment, at least, his features are so impassive that they may tell either of the deepest grief or the purest indifference; or it may be, merely of reticence on entering a stranger's room. He only bows towardshorsham'shalf-proffered hand. With instinctive respect for the situation of this tragically made widower the men have risen and stand in various uneasy attitudes.

horsham.Oh . . how do you do? Let me see . . do you know my cousin Charles Cantelupe? Yes . . we were expecting Russell Blackborough. Sir Henry Percival is ill. Do sit down.

o'connelltakes the nearest chair and gradually the others settle themselves;farrantseeking an obscure corner. But there follows an uncomfortable silence, whicho'connellat last breaks.

o'connell.You have sent for me, Lord Horsham?

horsham.I hope that by my message I conveyed no impression of sending for you.

o'connell.I am always in some doubt as to by what person or persons in or out of power this country is governed. But from all I hear you are at the present moment approximately entitled to send for me.

The level music of his Irish tongue seems to give finer edge to his sarcasm.

horsham.Well, Mr. O'Connell . . you know our request before we make it.

o'connell.Yes, I understand that if the fact of Mr. Trebell's adultery with my wife were made as public as its consequences to her must be to-morrow, public opinionwould make it difficult for you to include him in your cabinet.

horsham.Therefore we ask you . . though we have no right to ask you . . to consider the particular circumstances and forget the man in the statesman, Mr. O'Connell.

o'connell.My wife is dead. What have I to do at all with Mr. Trebell as a man? As a statesman I am in any case uninterested in him.

Upon this throwing of cold water,edmundsreturns to mention even more discreetly. . .

edmunds.Mr. Blackborough is in the library, my lord.

horsham.[Patiently impatient.] No, no . . here.

wedgecroft.Let me go.

horsham.[To the injurededmunds.] Wait . . wait.

wedgecroft.I'll put himau fait. I shan't come back.

horsham.[Gratefully.] Yes, yes. [Then toedmundswho is waiting with perfect dignity.] Yes . . yes . . yes.

edmundsdeparts andwedgecroftmakes for the library door, glad to escape.

o'connell.If you are not busy at this hour, Wedgecroft, I should be grateful if you'd wait for me. I shall keep you, I think, but a very few minutes.

wedgecroft.[In his most matter-of-fact tone.] All right, O'Connell.

He goes into the library.

cantelupe.Don't you think, Cyril, it would be wiser to prevent your man coming into the room at all while we're discussing this?

horsham.[Collecting his scattered tact.] Yes, I thought I had arranged that he shouldn't. I'm very sorry. He's a fool. However, there's no one else to come. Once more, Mr. O'Connell . . [He frames no sentence.]

o'connell.I am all attention, Lord Horsham.

cantelupewith a self-denying effort has risen to his feet.

cantelupe.Mr. O'Connell, I remain here almost against my will. I cannot think quite calmly about this double and doubly heinous sin. Don't listen to us while we make light of it. If we think of it as a political bother and ask you to smooth it away . . I am ashamed. But I believe I may not be wrong if I put it to you that, looking to the future and for the sake of your own Christian dignity, it may become you to be merciful. And I pray too . . I think we may believe . . that Mr. Trebell is feeling need of your forgiveness. I have no more to say. [He sits down again.]

o'connell.It may be. I have never met Mr. Trebell.

horsham.I tell you, Mr. O'Connell, putting aside Party, that your country has need of this man just at this time.

They hang upono'connell'sreply. It comes with deliberation.

o'connell.I suppose my point of view must be an unusual one. I notice, at least, that twenty four hours and more has not enabled Farrant to grasp it.

farrant.For God's sake, O'Connell, don't be so cold-blooded. You have the life or death of a man's reputation to decide on.

o'connell.[With a cold flash of contempt.] That's a petty enough thing now-a-days it seems to me. There are so many clever men . . and they are all so alike . . surely one will not be missed.

cantelupe.Don't you think that is only sarcasm, Mr. O'Connell?

The voice is so gently reproving thato'connellmust turn to him.

o'connell.Will you please to make allowance, Lord Charles, for a mediaeval scholar's contempt of modern government?Youat least will partly understand his horror as a Catholic at the modern superstitions in favour of popular opinion and control which it encourages. Yousee, Lord Horsham, I am not a party man, only a little less enthusiastic for the opposite cries than for his own. You appealed very strangely to my feelings of patriotism for this country; but you see even my own is—in the twentieth century—foreign to me. From my point of view neither Mr. Trebell, nor you, nor the men you have just defeated, nor any discoverable man or body of men will make laws which matter . . or differ in the slightest. You are all part of your age and you all voice—though in separate keys, or even tunes they may be—only the greed and follies of your age. That you should do this and nothing more is, of course, the democratic ideal. You will forgive my thinking tenderly of the statesmanship of the firstEdward.

The library door opens andrussell blackboroughcomes in. He has on evening clothes, complicated by a long silk comforter and the motoring cap which he carries.

horsham.You know Russell Blackborough.

o'connell.I think not.

blackborough.How d'you do?

o'connellhaving bowed,blackboroughhaving nodded, the two men sit down,blackboroughwith an air of great attention,o'connellto continue his interrupted speech.

o'connell.And you are as far from me in your code of personal morals as in your politics. In neither do you seem to realise that such a thing as passion can exist. No doubt you use the words Love and Hatred; but do you know that love and hatred for principles or persons should come from beyond a man? I notice you speak of forgiveness as if it were a penny in my pocket. You have been endeavouring for these two days to rouse me from my indifference towards Mr. Trebell. Perhaps you are on the point of succeeding . . but I do not know what you may rouse.

horsham.I understand. We are much in agreement, Mr. O'Connell. What can a man be—who has any pretensions to philosophy—but helplessly indifferent to the thousands of his fellow creatures whose fates are intertwined with his?

o'connell.I am glad that you understand. But, again . . have I been wrong to shrink from personal relations with Mr. Trebell? Hatred is as sacred a responsibility as love. And you will not agree with me when I say that punishment can be the salvation of a man's soul.

farrant.[With aggressive common sense.] Look here, O'Connell, if you're indifferent it doesn't hurt you to let him off. And if you hate him . . ! Well, one shouldn't hate people . . there's no room for it in this world.

cantelupe.[Quietly as ever.] We have some authority for thinking that the punishment of a secret sin is awarded by God secretly.

o'connell.We have very poor authority, sir, for using God's name merely to fill up the gaps in an argument, though we may thus have our way easily with men who fear God more than they know him. I am not one of those. Yes, Farrant, you and your like have left little room in this world except for the dusty roads on which I notice you beginning once more to travel. The rule of them is the same for all, is it not . . from the tramp and the labourer to the plutocrat in his car? This is the age of equality; and it's a fine practical equality . . the equality of the road. But you've fenced the fields of human joy and turned the very hillsides into hoardings. Commercial opportunity is painted on them, I think.

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 onetalks 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 whichedmundsannounces"Mr. Trebell, my lord."The general consternation expresses itself throughhorsham,who complains aloud and unreservedly.

horsham.Good God . . 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 timetrebellis in the room and has discovered the stranger, who stands to face him without emotion or anger.blackborough'sface wears the grimmest of smiles,cantelupeis sorry,farrantrecovers from the fit of choking which seemed imminent andedmunds,dimly perceiving by now some fly in the perfect amber of his conduct, departs. The two men still face each other.farrantis prepared to separate them should they come to blows, and indeed is advancing in that anticipation wheno'connellspeaks.

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 overtrebell;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.

Onlyo'connellgrasps 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 bastards and cannot inherit my name. And I must live in sin against my church, as—God 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.

horshamtakes advantage of the silence that follows.

horsham.Shall we . .

o'connell.[Measuringtrebellwith 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 affectme.

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 noticeshorsham.] Yes, Lord Horsham, by all means . .

Thenhorshamopens the library door and sees him safely through. He passestrebellwithout any salutation, nor doestrebellturn after him; but whenhorshamalso 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 God'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 strokestrebell'sshoulder, 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.

horshamcomes back from the passage. 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.[Includinghorshamnow 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?

From the piano-stool comescantelupe'squiet voice.

cantelupe.Yes, Trebell . . I do.

trebellwheels round at this and ceases all bluster.

trebell.On what grounds?

cantelupe.Unarguable ones.

horsham.[Finding refuge again in his mantelpiece.]You know, he has gone off without giving me his promise.

farrant.That's your own fault, Trebell.

horsham.The fool says I didn't give him explicit instructions.

farrant.What fool?

horsham.That man . . [The name fails him.] . . my new man. One of those touches of Fate's little finger, really.

He begins to consult the ceiling and the carpet once more.trebelltacklescantelupewith gravity.

trebell.I have only a logical mind, Cantelupe. I know that to make myself a capable man I've purged myself of all the sins . . I never was idle enough to commit. I know that if your God didn't make use of men, sins and all . . what would ever be done in the world? That one natural action, which the slight shifting of a social law could have made as negligible as eating a meal, can make me incapable . . takes the linch-pin out of one's brain, doesn't it?

horsham.Trebell, we've been doing our best to get you out of this mess. Your remarks to O'Connell weren't of any assistance, and . .

cantelupestands up, so momentously thathorsham'sgentle flow of speech dries up.

cantelupe.Perhaps I had better say at once that, whatever hushing up you may succeed in, it will be impossible for me to sit in a cabinet with Mr. Trebell.

It takes evenfarranta good half minute to recover his power of speech on this new issue.

farrant.What perfect nonsense, Cantelupe! I hope you don't mean that.

blackborough.Complication number one, Horsham.

farrant.[Working up his protest.] Why on earth not? You really mustn't drag your personal feelings and prejudices into important matters like this . . matters of state.

cantelupe.I think I have no choice, when Trebell stands convicted of a mortal sin, of which he has not even repented.

trebell.[With bitterest cynicism.] Dictate any form of repentance you like . . my signature is yours.

cantelupe.Is this a matter for intellectual jugglery?

trebell.[His defence failing at last.] I offered to face the scandal from my place in the House. That was mad, wasn't it . .

blackborough—his course mapped out—changes the tone of the discussion.

blackborough.Horsham, I hope Trebell will believe I have no personal feelings in this matter, but we may as well face the fact even now that O'Connell holding his tongue to-morrow won't stop gossip in the House, club gossip, gossip in drawing rooms. What do the Radicals really care so long as a scandal doesn't get into the papers! There's an inner circle with its eye on us.

farrant.Well, what does that care as long as scandal's its own copyright? Do you know, my dear father refused a peerage because he felt it meant putting blinkers on his best newspaper.

blackborough.[A little subtly.] Still . . now you and Horsham are cousins, aren't you?

farrant.[Off the track and explanatory.] No, no . . my wife's mother . . .

blackborough.I'm inaccurate, for I'm not one of the family circle myself. My money gets me here and any skill I've used in making it. It wouldn't keep me at a pinch. And Trebell . . [He speaks through his teeth.] . . do you think your accession to power in the party is popular at the best? Who is going to put out a finger to make it less awkward for Horsham to stick to you if there's a chance of your going under?

trebellsmiles at some mental picture he is making.

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