[Anthony takes the pen and signs.]

Tench. [Standing with a sheet of blotting-paper behind EDGAR’S chair, begins speaking nervously.] I owe my position to you, sir.

Anthony.  Well?

Tench.  I’m obliged to see everything that’s going on, sir; I—­I depend upon the Company entirely.  If anything were to happen to it, it’d be disastrous for me. [Anthony nods.] And, of course, my wife’s just had another; and so it makes me doubly anxious just now.  And the rates are really terrible down our way.

Anthony. [With grim amusement.] Not more terrible than they are up mine.

Tench.  No, Sir? [Very nervously.] I know the Company means a great deal to you, sir.

Anthony.  It does; I founded it.

Tench.  Yes, Sir.  If the strike goes on it’ll be very serious.  I think the Directors are beginning to realise that, sir.

Anthony. [Ironically.] Indeed?

Tench.  I know you hold very strong views, sir, and it’s always your habit to look things in the face; but I don’t think the Directors—­ like it, sir, now they—­they see it.

Anthony. [Grimly.] Nor you, it seems.

Tench. [With the ghost of a smile.] No, sir; of course I’ve got my children, and my wife’s delicate; in my position I have to think of these things.

     [Anthony nods.]

It was n’t that I was going to say, sir, if you’ll excuse me——­ [hesitates]

Anthony.  Out with it, then!

Tench.  I know—­from my own father, sir, that when you get on in life you do feel things dreadfully——­

Anthony. [Almost paternally.] Come, out with it, Trench!

Tench.  I don’t like to say it, sir.

Anthony. [Stonily.] You Must.

Tench. [After a pause, desperately bolting it out.] I think the
Directors are going to throw you over, sir.

Anthony. [Sits in silence.] Ring the bell!

     [Tench nervously rings the bell and stands by the fire.]

Tench.  Excuse me for saying such a thing.  I was only thinking of you, sir.

     [Frost enters from the hall, he comes to the foot of the table,
     and looks at Anthony; Tench coveys his nervousness by arranging
     papers.]

Anthony.  Bring me a whiskey and soda.

Frost. Anything to eat, sir?

     [Anthony shakes his head.  Frost goes to the sideboard, and
     prepares the drink.]

Tench. [In a low voice, almost supplicating.] If you could see your way, sir, it would be a great relief to my mind, it would indeed. [He looks up at Anthony, who has not moved.] It does make me so very anxious.  I haven’t slept properly for weeks, sir, and that’s a fact.