BURGE-LUBIN. An intellectual difficulty, old man. Something we don't understand. Come and help us out.
THE ARCHBISHOP. May I ask how the question has arisen?
BARNABAS. Ah! You begin to smell a rat, do you? You thought yourself pretty safe. You—
BURGE-LUBIN. Steady, Barnabas. Dont be in a hurry.
Confucius enters.
THE ARCHBISHOP [rising] Good morning, Mr Chief Secretary.
BURGE-LUBIN [rising in instinctive imitation of the Archbishop] Honor us by taking a seat, O sage.
CONFUCIUS. Ceremony is needless. [He bows to the company, and takes the chair at the foot of the table].
The President and the Archbishop resume their seats.
BURGE-LUBIN. We wish to put a case to you, Confucius. Suppose a man, instead of conforming to the official estimate of his expectation of life, were to live for more than two centuries and a half, would the Accountant General be justified in calling him a thief?