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?
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?