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.

WEDGECROFT.  They must, I think.  It’s over a month since—­

TREBELL. [His thoughts running quickly.] There’ll only be a nominal majority of sixteen against them.  The Labour lot are committed on their side ... and now that the Irish have gone—­

WEDGECROFT.  But they’ll be beaten on the Address first go.

TREBELL.  Yes ...  Horsham hasn’t any doubt of it.

WEDGECROFT.  He’ll be in office within a week of the King’s speech.

TREBELL. [With another access of energy.] I’ll pull the bill that’s in my head through a Horsham cabinet and the House.  Then I’ll leave them ... they’ll go to the country—­

WEDGECROFT.  You know Percival’s pledge about that at Bristol wasn’t very definite.

TREBELL.  Horsham means to.

WEDGECROFT. [With friendly contempt.] Oh, Horsham!

TREBELL.  Anyway, it’s about Percival I want you.  How ill is he?

WEDGECROFT.  Not very.

TREBELL.  Is he going to die?

WEDGECROFT.  Well, I’m attending him.

TREBELL. [Pinked.] Yes ... that’s a good answer.  How does he stomach me in prospect as a colleague, so far?

WEDGECROFT.  Sir, professional etiquette forbids me to disclose what a patient may confess in the sweat of his agony.

TREBELL.  He’ll be Chancellor again and lead the House.

WEDGECROFT.  Why not?  He only grumbles that he’s getting old.