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.