The Chief Secretary and the President look very glum. Their incredulity is vanquished at last.
BURGE-LUBIN. Look here. Do you chaps realize how awful this is? Here we are sitting calmly in the presence of a man whose death is overdue by two centuries. He may crumble into dust before our eyes at any moment.
BARNABAS. Not he. He'll go on drawing his pension until the end of the world.
THE ARCHBISHOP. Not quite that. My expectation of life is only three hundred years.
BARNABAS. You will last out my time anyhow: that's enough for me.
THE ARCHBISHOP [coolly] How do you know?
BARNABAS [taken aback] How do I know!
THE ARCHBISHOP. Yes: how do you know? I did not begin even to suspect until I was nearly seventy. I was only vain of my youthful appearance. I was not quite serious about it until I was ninety. Even now I am not sure from one moment to another, though I have given you my reason for thinking that I have quite unintentionally committed myself to a lifetime of three hundred years.
BURGE-LUBIN. But how do you do it? Is it lemons? Is it Soya beans? Is it—
THE ARCHBISHOP. I do not do it. It happens. It may happen to anyone. It may happen to you.