O’CONNELL.  We have very poor authority, sir, for using God’s name merely to fill up the gaps in an argument, though we may thus have our way easily with men who fear God more than they know him.  I am not one of those.  Yes, Farrant, you and your like have left little room in this world except for the dusty roads on which I notice you beginning once more to travel.  The rule of them is the same for all, is it not ... from the tramp and the labourer to the plutocrat in his car?  This is the age of equality; and it’s a fine practical equality ... the equality of the road.  But you’ve fenced the fields of human joy and turned the very hillsides into hoardings, Commercial opportunity is painted on them, I think.

FARRANT. [Not to be impressed.] Perhaps it is O’Connell.  My father made his money out of newspapers and I ride in a motor car and you came from Holyhead by train.  What has all that to do with it?  Why can’t you make up your mind?  You know in this sort of case one talks a lot ... and then does the usual thing.  You must let Trebell off and that’s all about it.

O’CONNELL.  Indeed.  And do they still think it worth while to administer an oath to your witnesses?

He is interrupted by the flinging open of the door and the triumphant right-this-time-anyhow voice in which EDMUNDS announces “Mr. Trebell, my lord.” The general consternation expresses itself through HORSHAM, who complains aloud and unreservedly.

HORSHAM.  Good God....  No!  Charles, I must give him notice at once ... he’ll have to go. [He apologises to the company.] I beg your pardon.

By this time TREBELL is in the room and has discovered the stranger, who stands to face him without emotion or anger, BLACKBOROUGH’S face wears the grimmest of smiles, CANTELUPE is sorry, FARRANT recovers from the fit of choking which seemed imminent and EDMUNDS, dimly perceiving by now some fly in the perfect amber of his conduct, departs.  The two men still face each other, FARRANT is prepared to separate them should they come to blows, and indeed is advancing in that anticipation when O’CONNELL speaks.

O’CONNELL.  I am Justin O’Connell.

TREBELL.  I guess that.

O’CONNELL.  There’s a dead woman between us, Mr. Trebell.

      A tremor sweeps over TREBELL; then he speaks simply.

TREBELL.  I wish she had not died.

O’CONNELL.  I am called upon by your friends to save you from the consequences of her death.  What have you to say about that?

TREBELL.  I have been wondering what sort of expression the last of your care for her would find ... but not much.  My wonder is at the power over me that has been given to something I despised.

      Only O’CONNELL grasps his meaning.  But he, stirred for the first
      time and to his very depths, drives it home.