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 damn. 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.