Chapter IX: Part 9

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_, CANTELUPE _escapes_. WEDGECROFT _has walked to the table, his brows a little puckered. Now_ TREBELL _notices that_ KENT'S _door 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._ TREBELL _battles with uneasiness and at 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 announce_ MISS DAVENPORT. LUCY _follows 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?

TREBELL _looks 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.

LUCY _considers 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's not 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 out_ WALTER KENT _is on the way to his room. The two nod to each other like old friends._ TREBELL _turns 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.

LUCY _departs as purposefully as she came_. KENT _hurries to_ TREBELL, _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.

TREBELL _stares 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.

KENT _goes into his room and tackles the telephone there_. TREBELL _sits down to write the note, his face very set and anxious_.

THE THIRD ACT

At LORD HORSHAM'S house in Queen Anne's Gate, in the evening, a week later.

_If rooms express their owners' character, the grey and black of_ LORD HORSHAM'S _drawing 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 sits_ WEDGECROFT, _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, is_ GEORGE FARRANT, _planted with his knees apart, his hands clasped, his head bent; very glum. And sometimes_ HORSHAM _glances 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 where_ CANTELUPE _is perched uncomfortably on the bench; paler than ever; more self-contained than ever, looking, to one who knows him as well as_ HORSHAM _does, a little 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 last_ FARRANT _breaks 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.

HORSHAM _assumes 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'S _face 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 moment_ EDMUNDS _comes in, and, with that air of discreet tact which he considers befits the establishment of a Prime Minister, announces_, "Mr. O'Connell, my lord." _As_ O'CONNELL _follows him_, HORSHAM _can 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 towards_ HORSHAM'S _half-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'CONNELL _takes the nearest chair and gradually the others settle themselves_; FARRANT _seeking an obscure corner. But there follows an uncomfortable silence, which_ O'CONNELL _at 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 opinion would 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_, EDMUNDS _returns 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 injured_ EDMUNDS.] Wait . . wait.

WEDGECROFT. I'll put him _au fait_. I shan't come back.

HORSHAM. [_Gratefully._] Yes, yes. [_Then to_ EDMUNDS _who is waiting with perfect dignity_.] Yes . . yes . . yes.

EDMUNDS _departs and_ WEDGECROFT _makes 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.

CANTELUPE _with 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 upon_ O'CONNELL'S _reply. 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 that_ O'CONNELL _must turn to him_.

O'CONNELL. Will you please to make allowance, Lord Charles, for a mediaeval scholar's contempt of modern government? =You= at least will partly understand his horror as a Catholic at the modern superstitions in favour of popular opinion and control which it encourages. You see, 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 =first= Edward.

_The library door opens and_ RUSSELL BLACKBOROUGH _comes 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'CONNELL _having bowed_, BLACKBOROUGH _having nodded, the two men sit down_, BLACKBOROUGH _with an air of great attention_, O'CONNELL _to 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 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 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 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 anticipation 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 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.

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 passes_ 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 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 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 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. [_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?

_From the piano-stool comes_ CANTELUPE'S _quiet voice_.

CANTELUPE. Yes, Trebell . . I do.

TREBELL _wheels 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._ TREBELL _tackles_ CANTELUPE _with 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 . .

CANTELUPE _stands up, so momentously that_ HORSHAM'S _gentle 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 even_ FARRANT _a 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?

TREBELL _smiles at some mental picture he is making_.

TREBELL. Can your cousins and aunts make it so awkward for you, Horsham?

HORSHAM. [_Repaying humour with humour._] I bear up against their affectionate attentions.

TREBELL. But I quite understand how uncongenial I may be. What made you take up with me at all?

FARRANT. Your brains, Trebell.

TREBELL. He should have enquired into my character first, shouldn't he, Cantelupe?

CANTELUPE. [_With crushing sincerity._] Yes.

TREBELL. Oh, the old unnecessary choice . . Wisdom or Virtue. We all think we must make it . . and we all discover we can't. But if you've to choose between Cantelupe and me, Horsham, I quite see you've no choice.

HORSHAM _now takes the field, using his own weapons_.

HORSHAM. Charles, it seems to me that we are somewhat in the position of men who have overheard a private conversation. Do you feel justified in making public use of it?

CANTELUPE. It is not I who am judge. God knows I would not sit in judgment upon anyone.

TREBELL. Cantelupe, I'll take your personal judgment if you can give it me.

FARRANT. Good Lord, Cantelupe, didn't you sit in a cabinet with . . Well, we're not here to rake up old scandals.

BLACKBOROUGH. I am concerned with the practical issue.

HORSHAM. We know, Blackborough. [_Having quelled the interruption he proceeds._] Charles, you spoke, I think, of a mortal sin.

CANTELUPE. In spite of your lifted eyebrows at the childishness of the word.

HORSHAM. Theoretically, we must all wish to guide ourselves by eternal truths. But you would admit, wouldn't you, that we can only deal with temporal things?

CANTELUPE. [_Writhing slightly under the sceptical cross-examination._] There are divine laws laid down for our guidance . . I admit no disbelief in them.

HORSHAM. Do they place any time-limit to the effect of a mortal sin? If this affair were twenty years old would you do as you are doing? Can you forecast the opinion you will have of it six months hence?

CANTELUPE. [_Positively._] Yes.

HORSHAM. Can you? Nevertheless I wish you had postponed your decision even till to-morrow.

_Having made his point he looks round almost for approval._

BLACKBOROUGH. What had Percival to say on the subject, Farrant?

FARRANT. I was only to make use of his opinion under certain circumstances.

BLACKBOROUGH. So it isn't favourable to your remaining with us, Mr. Trebell.

FARRANT. [_Indignantly emerging from the trap._] I never said that.

_Now_ TREBELL _gives the matter another turn, very forcefully_.

TREBELL. Horsham . . I don't bow politely and stand aside at this juncture as a gentleman should, because I want to know how the work's to be done if I leave you what I was to do.

BLACKBOROUGH. Are we so incompetent?

TREBELL. I daresay not. I want to know . . that's all.

CANTELUPE. Please understand, Mr. Trebell, that I have in no way altered my good opinion of your proposals.

BLACKBOROUGH. Well, I beg to remind you, Horsham, that from the first I've reserved myself liberty to criticise fundamental points in the scheme.

HORSHAM. [_Pacifically._] Quite so . . quite so.

BLACKBOROUGH. That nonsensical new standard of teachers' salaries for one thing . . you'd never pass it.

HORSHAM. Quite easily. It's an administrative point, so leave the legislation vague. Then, as the appropriation money falls in, the qualifications rise and the salaries rise. No one will object because no one will appreciate it but administrators past or future . . and they never cavil at money. [_He remains lost in the beauty of this prospect._]

TREBELL. Will you take charge of the bill, Blackborough?

BLACKBOROUGH. Are you serious?

HORSHAM. [_Brought to earth._] Oh no! [_He corrects himself smiling._] I mean, my dear Blackborough, why not stick to the Colonies?

BLACKBOROUGH. You see, Trebell, there's still the possibility that O'Connell may finally spike your gun tomorrow. You realise that, don't you?

TREBELL. Thank you. I quite realise that.

CANTELUPE. Can nothing further be done?

BLACKBOROUGH. Weren't we doing our best?

HORSHAM. Yes . . if we were bending our thoughts to that difficulty now . . .

TREBELL. [_Hardly._] May I ask you to interfere on my behalf no further?

FARRANT. My dear Trebell!

TREBELL. I assure you that I am interested in the Disestablishment Bill.

_So they turn readily enough from the more uncomfortable part of their subject._

BLACKBOROUGH. Well . . here's Farrant.

FARRANT. I'm no good. Give me Agriculture.

BLACKBOROUGH. Pity you're in the Lords, Horsham.

TREBELL. Horsham, I'll devil for any man you choose to name . . feed him sentence by sentence. . .

HORSHAM. That's impossible.

TREBELL. Well, what's to become of my bill? I want to know.

BLACKBOROUGH. [_Casting his care on Providence._] We shall manage somehow. Why, if you had died suddenly . . or let us say, never been born. . .

TREBELL. Then, Blackborough . . speaking as a dying man . . if you go back on the integrity of this scheme, I'll haunt you. [_Having said this with some finality, he turns his back._]

CANTELUPE. Cyril, I agree with what Trebell is saying. Whatever happens there must be no tampering with the comprehensiveness of the scheme. Remember you are in the hands of the extremists . . on both sides. I won't support a compromise on one . . nor will they on the other.

HORSHAM. Well, I'll confess to you candidly, Trebell, that I don't know of any man available for this piece of work but you.

TREBELL. Then I should say it would be almost a relief to you if O'Connell tells on me to-morrow.

FARRANT. We seem to have got off that subject altogether. [_There comes a portentous tap at the door._] Good Lord! . . I'm getting jumpy.

HORSHAM. Excuse me.

_A note is handed to him through the half opened door; and obviously it is at_ EDMUNDS _whom he frowns. Then he returns fidgetting for his glasses_.

Oh, it turns out . . I'm so sorry you were blundered in here, Trebell . . this man . . what's his name . . Edwards . . had been reading the papers and thought it was a cabinet council . . seemed proud of himself. This is from Wedgecroft . . scribbled in a messenger office. I never can read his writing . . it's like prescriptions. Can you?

_It has gradually dawned on the three men and then on_ TREBELL _what this note may have in it_. FARRANT'S _hand even trembles a little as he takes it. He gathers the meaning himself and looks at the others with a smile before he reads the few words aloud._

FARRANT. "All right. He has promised."

BLACKBOROUGH. O'Connell?

FARRANT. Thank God. [_He turns enthusiastically to_ TREBELL _who stands rigid_.] My dear fellow . . I hope you know how glad I am.

CANTELUPE. I am very glad.

BLACKBOROUGH. Of course we're all very glad indeed, Trebell . . very glad we persuaded him.

FARRANT. That's dead and buried now, isn't it?

TREBELL _moves away from them all and leaves them wondering. When he turns round his face is as hard as ever; his voice, if possible, harder._

TREBELL. But, Horsham, returning to the more important question . . you've taken trouble, and O'Connell's to perjure himself for nothing if you still can't get me into your child's puzzle . . to make the pretty picture that a Cabinet should be.

HORSHAM _looks at_ BLACKBOROUGH _and scents danger_.

HORSHAM. We shall all be glad, I am sure, to postpone any further discussion. . .

TREBELL. I shall not.

BLACKBOROUGH. [_Encouragingly._] Quite so, Trebell. We're on the subject, and it won't discount our pleasure that you're out of this mess, to continue it. This habit of putting off the hour of disagreement is . . well, Horsham, it's contrary to my business instincts.

TREBELL. If one time's as good as another for you . . this moment is better than most for me.

HORSHAM. [_A little irritated at the wantonness of this dispute._] There is nothing before us on which we are capable of coming to any decision . . in a technical sense.

BLACKBOROUGH. That's a quibble. [_Poor_ HORSHAM _gasps_.] I'm not going to pretend either now or in a month's time that I think Trebell anything but a most dangerous acquisition to the party. I pay you a compliment in that, Trebell. Now, Horsham proposes that we should go to the country when Disestablishment's through.

HORSHAM. It's the condition of Nonconformist support.

BLACKBOROUGH. One condition. Then you'd leave us, Trebell?

HORSHAM. I hope not.

BLACKBOROUGH. And carry with you the credit of our one big measure. Consider the effect upon our reputation with the Country.

FARRANT. [_Waking to_ BLACKBOROUGH'S _line of action_.] Why on earth should you leave us, Trebell? You've hardly been a Liberal, even in name.

BLACKBOROUGH. [_Vigorously making his point._] Then what would be the conditions of your remaining? You're not a party man, Trebell. You haven't the true party feeling. You are to be bought. Of course you take your price in measures, not in money. But you are preeminently a man of ideas . . an expert. And a man of ideas is often a grave embarrassment to a government.

HORSHAM. And vice-versa . . vice-versa!

TREBELL. [_Facing_ BLACKBOROUGH _across the room_.] Do I understand that you for the good of the Tory party . . just as Cantelupe for the good of his soul . . will refuse to sit in a cabinet with me.

BLACKBOROUGH. [_Unembarrassed._] I don't commit myself to saying that.

CANTELUPE. No, Trebell . . it's that I must believe your work could not prosper . . in God's way.

TREBELL _softens to his sincerity_.

TREBELL. Cantelupe, I quite understand. You may be right . . it's a very interesting question. Blackborough, I take it that you object first of all to the scheme that I'm bringing you.

BLACKBOROUGH. I object to those parts of it which I don't think you'll get through the House.

FARRANT. [_Feeling that he must take part._] For instance?

BLACKBOROUGH. I've given you one already.

CANTELUPE. [_His eye on_ BLACKBOROUGH.] Understand there are things in that scheme we must stand or fall by.

_Suddenly_ TREBELL _makes for the door_. HORSHAM _gets up concernedly_.

TREBELL. Horsham, make up your mind to-night whether you can do with me or not. I have to see Percival again to-morrow . . we cut short our argument at the important point. Good-bye . . don't come down. Will you decide to-night?

HORSHAM. I have made up my own mind.

TREBELL. Is that sufficient?

HORSHAM. A collective decision is a matter of development.

TREBELL. Well, I shall expect to hear.

HORSHAM. By hurrying one only reaches a rash conclusion.

TREBELL. Then be rash for once and take the consequences. Good-night.

_He is gone before_ HORSHAM _can compose another epigram_.

BLACKBOROUGH. [_Deprecating such conduct._] Lost his temper!

FARRANT. [_Ruffling considerably._] Horsham, if Trebell is to be hounded out of your cabinet . . he won't go alone.

HORSHAM. [_Bitter-sweet._] My dear Farrant . . I have yet to form my cabinet.

CANTELUPE. You are forming it to carry disestablishment, are you not, Cyril? Therefore you will form it in the best interests of the best scheme possible.

HORSHAM. Trebell was and is the best man I know of for the purpose. I'm a little weary of saying that.

_He folds his arms and awaits further developments. After a moment_ CANTELUPE _gets up as if to address a meeting_.

CANTELUPE. Then if you would prefer not to include me . . I shall feel justified in giving independent support to a scheme I have great faith in. [_And he sits down again._]

BLACKBOROUGH. [_Impatiently._] My dear Cantelupe, if you think Horsham can form a disestablishment cabinet to include Trebell and exclude you, you're vastly mistaken. I for one . . .

FARRANT. But do both of you consider how valuable, how vital Trebell is to us just at this moment? The Radicals trust him. . .

BLACKBOROUGH. They hate him.

HORSHAM. [_Elucidating._] Their front bench hates him because he turned them out. The rest of them hate their front bench. After six years of office, who wouldn't?

BLACKBOROUGH. That's true.

FARRANT. Oh, of course, we must stick to Trebell, Blackborough.

BLACKBOROUGH _is silent; so_ HORSHAM _turns his attention to his cousin_.