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?