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._ HORSHAM. Well, you see ... Percival I can't do without. Now that Blackborough knows of his objections to the finance he'd go to him and take Chisholm and offer to back them up. I know he would ... he didn't take Farrant away with him for nothing. [_Then he flashes out rather shrilly._] It's Trebell's own fault. He ought not to have committed himself definitely to any scheme until he was safely in office. I warned him about Percival ... I warned him not to be explicit. One cannot work with men who will make up their minds prematurely. No, I shall not change my mind. I shall write to him. _He goes firmly to his writing desk leaving_ CANTELUPE _forlorn._ CANTELUPE. What about a messenger? HORSHAM. Not at this time of night. I'll post it. CANTELUPE. I'll post it as I go. _He seeks comfort again in the piano and this time starts to play, with one finger and some hesitation, the first bars of a Bach fugue_, HORSHAM'S _pen-nib is disappointing him and the letter is not easy to phrase._ HORSHAM. But I hate coming to immediate decisions. The administrative part of my brain always tires after half an hour. Does yours, Charles? CANTELUPE. What do you think Trebell will do now? HORSHAM. [_A little grimly._] Punish us all he can. _On reaching the second voice in the fugue_ CANTELUPE'S _virtuosity breaks down._ CANTELUPE. All that ability turned to destructiveness ... what a pity! That's the paradox of human activities.... _Suddenly_ HORSHAM _looks up and his face is lighted with a seraphic smile._ HORSHAM. Charles ... I wish we could do without Blackborough. CANTELUPE. [_Struck with the idea._] Well ... why not? HORSHAM. Yes ... I must think about it. [_They both get up, cheered considerably._] You won't forget this, will you? CANTELUPE. [_The letter in_ HORSHAM'S _hand accusing him._] No ... no. I don't think I have been the cause of your dropping Trebell, have I?