TREBELL'S house in Queen Anne Street, London. Eleven o'clock on an
October morning.
TREBELL'S _working room is remarkable chiefly for the love of sunlight
it evidences in its owner. The walls are white; the window which faces
you is bare of all but the necessary curtains. Indeed, lack of draperies
testifies also to his horror of dust. There faces you besides a double
door; when it is opened another door is seen. When that is opened you
discover a writing table, and beyond can discern a book-case filled with
heavy volumes--law reports perhaps. The little room beyond is, so to
speak, an under-study. Between the two rooms a window, again barely
curtained, throws light down the staircase. But in the big room, while
the books are many the choice of them is catholic; and the book-cases
are low, running along the wall. There is an armchair before the bright
fire, which is on your right. There is a sofa. And in the middle of the
room is an enormous double writing table piled tidily with much
appropriate impedimenta, blue books and pamphlets and with an especial
heap of unopened letters and parcels. At the table sits_ TREBELL
_himself, in good health and spirits, but eyeing askance the work to
which he has evidently just returned. His sister looks in on him. She is
dressed to go out and has a housekeeping air._
FRANCES. Are you busy, Henry?
TREBELL. More or less. Come in.
FRANCES. You'll dine at home?
TREBELL. Anyone coming?
FRANCES. Julia Farrant and Lucy have run up to town, I think. I thought
of going round and asking them to come in . . but perhaps your young man
will be going there. Amy O'Connell said something vague about our going
to Charles Street . . but she may be out of town by now.
TREBELL. Well . . I'll be in anyhow.
FRANCES. [_Going to the window as she buttons her gloves._] Were you on
deck early this morning? It must have been lovely.
TREBELL. No, I turned in before we got out of le Havre. I left Kent on
deck and found him there at six.
FRANCES. I don't think autumn means to come at all this year . . it'll
be winter one morning. September has been like a hive of bees, busy and
drowsy. By the way, Cousin Mary has another baby . . a girl.
TREBELL. [_Indifferent to the information._] That's the fourth.
FRANCES. Fifth. They asked me down for the christening . . but I really
couldn't.
TREBELL. September's the month for Tuscany. The car chose to break down
one morning just as we were starting North again: so we climbed one of
the little hills and sat for a couple of hours, while I composed a
fifteenth century electioneering speech to the citizens of Siena.
FRANCES. [_With a half smile._] Have you a vein of romance for holiday
time?
TREBELL. [_Dispersing the suggestion._] Not at all romantic . . nothing
but figures and fiscal questions. That was the hardest commercial
civilisation there has been, though you only think of its art and its
murders now.
FRANCES. The papers on both sides have been very full of you . . saying
you hold the moral balance . . or denying it.
TREBELL. An interviewer caught me at Basle. I offered to discuss the
state of the Swiss navy.
FRANCES. Was that before Lord Horsham wrote to you?
TREBELL. Yes, his letter came to Innsbruck. He "expressed" it somehow.
Why . . it isn't known that he will definitely ask me to join?
FRANCES. The Whitehall had a leader before the Elections were well over
to say that he must . . but, of course, that was Mr. Farrant.
TREBELL. [_Knowingly._] Mrs. Farrant. I saw it in Paris . . it just
caught me up.
FRANCES. The Times is very shy over the whole question . . has a letter
from a fresh bishop every day . . doesn't talk of you very kindly yet.
TREBELL. Tampering with the Establishment, even Cantelupe's way, will be
a pill to the real old Tory right to the bitter end.
WALTER KENT _comes in, very fresh and happy-looking. A young man started
in life_, TREBELL _hails him_.
TREBELL. Hullo . . you've not been long getting shaved.
KENT. How do you do, Miss Trebell? Lucy turned me out.
FRANCES. My congratulations. I've not seen you since I heard the news.
KENT. [_Glad and unembarrassed._] Thank you. I do deserve them, don't I?
Mrs. Farrant didn't come down . . she left us to breakfast together. But
I've a message for you . . her love and she is in town. I went and saw
Lord Charles, sir. He will come to you and be here at half past eleven.
TREBELL. Look at these.
_He smacks on the back, so to speak, the pile of parcels and letters._
KENT. Oh, lord! . . I'd better start on them.
FRANCES. [_Continuing in her smooth oldmaidish manner._] Thank you for
getting engaged just before you went off with Henry . . it has given me
my only news of him, through Lucy and your postcards.
TREBELL. Oh, what about Wedgecroft?
KENT. I think it was he spun up just as I'd been let in.
TREBELL. Oh, well . . [_And he rings at the telephone which is on his
table._]
KENT. [_Confiding in MISS TREBELL._] We're a common sense couple, aren't
we? I offered to ask to stay behind but she . . .
SIMPSON, _the maid, comes in_.
SIMPSON. Dr. Wedgecroft, sir.
WEDGECROFT _is on her heels. If you have an eye for essentials you may
tell at once that he is a doctor, but if you only notice externals you
will take him for anything else. He is over forty and in perfect health
of body and spirit. His enthusiasms are his vitality and he has too many
of them ever to lose one. He squeezes_ MISS TREBELL'S _hand with an air
of fearless affection which is another of his characteristics and not
the least loveable_.
WEDGECROFT. How are you?
FRANCES. I'm very well, thanks.
WEDGECROFT. [_To_ TREBELL, _as they shake hands_.] You're looking fit.
TREBELL. [_With tremendous emphasis._] I am!
WEDGECROFT. You've got the motor eye though.
TREBELL. Full of dust?
WEDGECROFT. Look at Kent's. [_He takes_ WALTER'S _arm_.] It's a slight
but serious contraction of the pupil . . which I charge fifty guineas to
cure.
FRANCES. It's the eye of faith in you and your homeopathic doses. Don't
you interfere with it.
FRANCES TREBELL, _housekeeper, goes out_. KENT _has seized on the
letters and is carrying them to his room_.
KENT. This looks like popularity and the great heart of the people,
doesn't it?
WEDGECROFT. Trebell, you're not ill, and I've work to do.
TREBELL. I want ten minutes. Keep anybody out, Kent.
KENT. I'll switch that speaking tube arrangement to my room.
TREBELL, _overflowing with vitality, starts to pace the floor_.
TREBELL. I've seen the last of Pump Court, Gilbert.
WEDGECROFT. The Bar ought to give you a testimonial . . to the man who
not only could retire on twenty years' briefs, but =has=.
TREBELL. Fifteen. But I bled the City sharks with a good conscience . .
quite freely.
WEDGECROFT. [_With a pretence at grumbling._] I wish I could retire.
TREBELL. No you don't. Doctoring's a priestcraft . . you've taken vows.
WEDGECROFT. Then why don't you establish =our= church instead of . .
TREBELL. Yes, my friend . . but you're a heretic. I'd have to give the
Medical Council power to burn you at the stake.
KENT. [_With the book packages._] Parcel from the S. P. C. K., sir.
TREBELL. I know . . Disestablishment a crime against God; sermon
preached by the Vicar of something Parva in eighteen seventy three. I
hope you're aware it's your duty to read all those.
KENT. Suppose they convert me? Lucy wanted to know if she could see you.
TREBELL. [_His eyebrows up._] Yes, I'll call at Mrs. Farrant's. Oh,
wait. Aren't they coming to dinner?
KENT. To-night? No, I think they go back to Shapters by the five
o'clock. I told her she might come round about twelve on the chance.
TREBELL. Yes . . if Cantelupe's punctual . . I'd sooner not have too
long with him.
KENT. All right, then.
_He goes, shutting the door; then you hear the door of his room shut
too. The two friends face each other, glad of a talk._
TREBELL. Well?
WEDGECROFT. Well . . you'll never do it.
TREBELL. Yes, I shall.
WEDGECROFT. You can't carry any bill to be a credit to you with the
coming Tory cabinet on your back. You know the Government is cursing you
with its dying breath.
TREBELL. [_Rubbing his hands._] Of course. They've been beaten out of
the House and in now. I suppose they will meet Parliament.