BLACKBOROUGH. Well, good-night. [_As he turns to go he finds_ CANTELUPE _upright, staring very sternly at him_.] Good-night, Cantelupe. CANTELUPE. From what motives have we thrown Trebell over? BLACKBOROUGH. Never mind the motives if the move is the right one. [_Then he nods at_ HORSHAM.] I shall be up again next week if you want me. _And he flourishes out of the room; a man who has done a good hour's work._ FARRANT, _who has been mooning depressedly around, now backs towards the door_. FARRANT. In one way, of course, Trebell won't care a damn. I mean, he knows as well as we do that office isn't worth having . . he has never been a place-hunter. On the other hand . . what with one thing and the other . . Blackborough is a sensible fellow. I suppose it can't be helped. HORSHAM. Blackborough will tell you so. Good-night. _So_ FARRANT _departs, leaving the two cousins together_. CANTELUPE _has not moved and now faces_ HORSHAM _just as accusingly_. CANTELUPE. Cyril, this is tragic. HORSHAM. [_More to himself than in answer._] Yes . . most annoying. CANTELUPE. Lucifer, son of the morning! Why is it always the highest who fall? HORSHAM _shies fastidiously at this touch of poetry_. HORSHAM. No, my dear Charles, let us above all things keep our mental balance. Trebell is a most capable fellow. I'd set my heart on having him with me . . he'll be most awkward to deal with in opposition. But we shall survive his loss and so would the country. CANTELUPE. [_Desperately._] Cyril, promise me there shall be no compromise over this measure. HORSHAM. [_Charmingly candid._] No . . no unnecessary compromise, I promise you. CANTELUPE. [_With a sigh._] If we had done what we have done to-night in the right spirit! Blackborough was almost vindictive. HORSHAM. [_Smiling without amusement._] Didn't you keep thinking . . I did . . of that affair of his with Mrs. Parkington . . years ago? CANTELUPE. There was never any proof of it. HORSHAM. No . . he bought off the husband. CANTELUPE. [_Uneasily._] His objections to Trebell were--political. HORSHAM. Yours weren't. CANTELUPE. [_More uneasily still._] I withdrew mine. HORSHAM. [_With elderly reproof._] I don't think, Charles, you have the least conception of what a nicely balanced machine a cabinet is. CANTELUPE. [_Imploring comfort._] But should we have held together through Trebell's bill? HORSHAM. [_A little impatient._] Perhaps not. But once I had them all round a table . . Trebell is very keen on office for all his independent airs . . he and Percival could have argued the thing out. However, it's too late now. CANTELUPE. Is it? _For a moment_ HORSHAM _is tempted to indulge in the luxury of changing his mind; but he puts Satan behind him with a shake of the head_.