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?

      HORSHAM, rid of the letter, is rid of responsibility and his charming
      equable self again.  He comforts his cousin paternally.

HORSHAM.  I don’t think so.  The split would have come when Blackborough checkmated my forming a cabinet.  It would have pleased him to do that ... and he could have, over Trebell.  But now that question’s out of the way ... you won’t get such a bad measure with Trebell in opposition.  He’ll frighten us into keeping it up to the mark, so to speak.

CANTELUPE. [A little comforted.] But I shall miss one or two of those ideas ...

HORSHAM. [So pleasantly sceptical.] Do you think they’d have outlasted the second reading?  Dullness in the country one expects.  Dullness in the House one can cope with.  But do you know, I have never sat in a cabinet yet that didn’t greet anything like a new idea in chilling silence.

CANTELUPE.  Well, I should regret to have caused you trouble, Cyril.

HORSHAM. [His hand on the other’s shoulder.] Oh ... we don’t take politics so much to heart as that, I hope.

CANTELUPE. [With sweet gravity.] I take politics very much to heart.  Yes, I know what you mean ... but that’s the sort of remark that makes people call you cynical. [HORSHAM smiles as if at a compliment and starts with CANTELUPE towards the door. CANTELUPE, who would not hurt his feelings, changes the subject.] By the bye, I’m glad we met this evening!  Do you hear Aunt Mary wants to sell the Burford Holbein?  Can she?