DICEY. That’s enough. Your slightest wish is law to me. I’ll get him a berth with some friends of mine in the city. They’ll take him on as clerk to oblige me—but he’ll have to learn typewriting. HORACE. No! I’m damned if I do! (_Lights out in interior._) HORACE. You’d do credit to the Spanish Inquisition! Haven’t you done with me? MESSENGER. It is only your pride that is hurt. Your heart is still as hard as ever. HORACE. Well, I am not beaten yet, if that is what you mean. I may be ruined financially, but I’ve got pages and pages of notes at home which I have taken during the last twelve months. MESSENGER. About what? HORACE. About the planets. And Mars in particular. And with the information you have been kind enough to give me to-night, I’ll write a book that will fairly make them sit up. Of course, nobody will believe it. But they will buy the book. I’ll sell my house and publish it myself. You can’t down an Englishman in one round, Marsy, my lad! (_Fire engine heard passing along off L._) MESSENGER. What’s that? HORACE. Fire somewhere. MESSENGER. Fire? Perhaps you could be of help there. HORACE. How absurd you are! The firemen will attend to it. That’s what they are paid for. You can’t expect me to bother about it. It is not my business. MESSENGER. In Mars we do not mind our own business. HORACE. I can quite believe it. (_Another fire engine._) MESSENGER. It must be something serious. There’s another engine, is it not? Won’t you go? HORACE. We shall see all about it in the papers to-morrow. I tell you I should only be in the way. Now, please may I go home? MESSENGER. Not yet. (_Lights up within the house, and discovered are MRS. CLARENCE and SIR EDWARD VIVIAN._) MESSENGER. Who is that with your friend Mrs. Clarence? HORACE. He at the dance? Why, that is Sir Edward Vivian, the great astronomer. MESSENGER. You know him? HORACE. I know of him, and he knows me. He has a very high opinion of me. He told a friend of mine last year that I was the coming man. MESSENGER. Most interesting. Listen! SIR EDWARD. Parker? Horace Parker? Oh, yes, a very wealthy man, I think. MRS. CLARENCE. He was, but I hear he has lost everything in this bank smash. SIR EDWARD. Indeed! I am very sorry to hear it. He was a useful subscriber. Very sad! Dear, dear! HORACE. That is a tribute from him. MRS. CLARENCE. I suppose he will be able to turn his scientific abilities to use and make a living that way? SIR EDWARD. I’m afraid not. MRS. CLARENCE. Why not? SIR EDWARD. Because he hasn’t any scientific abilities. HORACE. Has none? MRS. CLARENCE. You surprise me. I understood that—— SIR EDWARD. My dear Madame, his science is all fudge. Very praiseworthy in a wealthy man, of course. That sort of thing has to be encouraged among the rich. We need funds always. But as to any practical value—why, the thing is absurd to a degree. MRS. CLARENCE. And all the time he has been posing before us poor innocents as a veritable leader of thought.