I interrupted her; and worse, she took me for a champion of the Baboo! CARLYON. She never forgives an interruption. That is why I always have the general tea in her room. By-the-bye, Vera, before I forget, you're to give away the prizes at the Y.M.C.A. Shooting Club. VERA. Oh, Father, when? CARLYON. Thursday next: eleven A.M. It'll take most of the day. But what is this about India and the black man? I heard noble sentiments as I came in. VERA. Mr. Adene says that he expects to find---- ADENE. That _if_ I find a British official guilty of unfair behaviour---- VERA. Foul play! ADENE. I shall report the action. VERA. Attack the man. ADENE. You have heard us both. VERA. I want you to make him feel the difficulties. ADENE. And I claim that you for one have conquered the very worst difficulties without ever acquiescing in wrong to a native. CARLYON. [_Coolly; sitting down in chair by the tea-table._] Both of you wrong, quite wrong. I never knew any real difficulties, and I often wrong people--natives and others. What do you call a wrong? ADENE. Roughly, anything you wouldn't do to an Englishman in England. CARLYON. Any objection to murder, for instance? ADENE. [_Smiling._] Ah, but seriously, a general attitude---- CARLYON. I have condoned murders occasionally. On the whole I am not sure we have enough of them. I have often wished to see a man knocked on the head when nobody would do it. [_Turns chair facing_ ADENE. _Enter_ SERVANT _with tea, and exit again_. VERA. [_To_ ADENE, _laughing_.] Prepare to receive shocks! CARLYON. Oh, Adene knows of old how unregenerate I am. But I've said as much as that to an interviewer! ADENE. There are certainly people I should like to see removed---- CARLYON. Well, I'll tell you. Once when I was at---- I wish somebody would give me tea! Where's Elizabeth? VERA. [_To_ CARLYON, _taking possession of the tea-table_.] Be patient! [_To_ ADENE.] Now you've done us a service. We can never make him talk about himself. CARLYON. Well, I won't say where I was, it might implicate people; but there was a poor fellow, a villager, there, called Natthu, who was in the power of a money-lender. You know the sort of man? _Enter_ ELIZABETH, R., _with her left hand wrapped, negligently in a handkerchief. She comes first up to the tea-table, and then retires to the back of the room._ ADENE. The worst in the world! I admit occasional murdering may do them good. [_Takes tea._ CARLYON. It wasn't the money-lender this time! It was a policeman. Natthu had a wife and one daughter about twelve. Well, at last the money-lender was going to carry off his standing corn. [ELIZABETH _comes forward so as to look at_ ADENE. VERA _beckons her to come and pour out the tea. She declines and retires back again._ ADENE. Sheer ruin, of course. CARLYON.