Waste Part 29

FARRANT. [_As one speaks of a nice woman._] She was horrified.

HORSHAM. Of course. [_Once more he finds refuge and comfort on the hearthrug, to say, after a moment, with fine resignation._] I suppose I must let him go.

CANTELUPE. [_On his feet again._] Cyril!

HORSHAM. Yes, Charles?

_With this query he turns an accusing eye on_ CANTELUPE, _who is silenced._

BLACKBOROUGH. Have you made up your mind to that?

FARRANT. [_In great distress._] You're wrong, Horsham. [_Then in greater._]

That is ... I think you're wrong.

HORSHAM. I'd sooner not let him know to-night.

BLACKBOROUGH. But he asked you to.

HORSHAM. [_All show of resistance gone._] Did he? Then I suppose I must.

[_He sighs deeply._]

BLACKBOROUGH. Then I'll get back to Aylesbury.

_He picks up his motor-cap from the table and settles it on his head with immense aplomb._

HORSHAM. So late?

BLACKBOROUGH. Really one can get along quicker at night if one knows the road. You're in town, aren't you, Farrant? Shall I drop you at Grosvenor Square?

FARRANT. [_Ungraciously._] Thank you.

BLACKBOROUGH. [_With a conqueror's geniality._] I don't mind telling you now, Horsham, that ever since we met at Shapters I've been wondering how you'd escape from this a.s.sociation with Trebell. Thought he was being very clever when he crossed the House to us! It's needed a special providence.

You'd never have got a cabinet together to include him.

HORSHAM. [_With much intention._] No.

FARRANT. [_Miserably.]_ Yes, I suppose that intrigue was a mistake from the beginning.

BLACKBOROUGH. Well, good-night. [_As he turns to go he finds_ CANTELUPE _upright, staring very sternly at him._] Good-night, Cantelupe.

CANTELUPE. From what motives have we thrown Trebell over?

BLACKBOROUGH. Never mind the motives if the move is the right one. [_Then he nods at_ HORSHAM.] I shall be up again next week if you want me.

_And he flourishes out of the room; a man who has done a good hour's work_, FARRANT, _who has been mooning depressedly around, now backs towards the door._

FARRANT. In one way, of course, Trebell won't care a d.a.m.n. I mean, he knows as well as we do that office isn't worth having ... he has never been a place-hunter. On the other hand ... what with one thing and the other ...

Blackborough is a sensible fellow. I suppose it can't be helped.

HORSHAM. Blackborough will tell you so. Good-night.

_So_ FARRANT _departs, leaving the two cousins together._ CANTELUPE _has not moved and now faces_ HORSHAM _just as accusingly._

CANTELUPE. Cyril, this is tragic.

HORSHAM. [_More to himself than in answer._] Yes ... most annoying.

CANTELUPE. Lucifer, son of the morning! Why is it always the highest who fall?

HORSHAM _shies fastidiously at this touch of poetry._

HORSHAM. No, my dear Charles, let us above all things keep our mental balance. Trebell is a most capable fellow. I'd set my heart on having him with me ... he'll be most awkward to deal with in opposition. But we shall survive his loss and so would the country.

CANTELUPE. [_Desperately._] Cyril, promise me there shall be no compromise over this measure.

HORSHAM. [_Charmingly candid._] No ... no unnecessary compromise, I promise you.

CANTELUPE. [_With a sigh._] If we had done what we have done to-night in the right spirit! Blackborough was almost vindictive.

HORSHAM. [_Smiling without amus.e.m.e.nt._] Didn't you keep thinking ... I did ... of that affair of his with Mrs. Parkington ... years ago?

CANTELUPE. There was never any proof of it.

HORSHAM. No ... he bought off the husband.

CANTELUPE. [_Uneasily._] His objections to Trebell were--political.

HORSHAM. Yours weren't.

CANTELUPE. [_More uneasily still._] I withdrew mine.

HORSHAM. [_With elderly reproof._] I don't think, Charles, you have the least conception of what a nicely balanced machine a cabinet is.

CANTELUPE. [_Imploring comfort._] But should we have held together through Trebell's bill?

HORSHAM. [_A little impatient._] Perhaps not. But once I had them all round a table ... Trebell is very keen on office for all his independent airs ...

he and Percival could have argued the thing out. However, it's too late now.

CANTELUPE. Is it?

_For a moment_ HORSHAM _is tempted to indulge in the luxury of changing his mind; but he puts Satan behind him with a shake of the head._

HORSHAM. Well, you see ... Percival I can't do without. Now that Blackborough knows of his objections to the finance he'd go to him and take Chisholm and offer to back them up. I know he would ... he didn't take Farrant away with him for nothing. [_Then he flashes out rather shrilly._]

It's Trebell's own fault. He ought not to have committed himself definitely to any scheme until he was safely in office. I warned him about Percival ...

I warned him not to be explicit. One cannot work with men who will make up their minds prematurely. No, I shall not change my mind. I shall write to him.

_He goes firmly to his writing desk leaving_ CANTELUPE _forlorn._

CANTELUPE. What about a messenger?