ANTHONY. [Almost paternally.] Come, out with it, Trench!
TENCH. I don't like to say it, sir.
ANTHONY. [Stonily.] You Must.
TENCH. [After a pause, desperately bolting it out.] I think the Directors are going to throw you over, sir.
ANTHONY. [Sits in silence.] Ring the bell!
[TENCH nervously rings the bell and stands by the fire.]
TENCH. Excuse me for saying such a thing. I was only thinking of you, sir.
[FROST enters from the hall, he comes to the foot of the table, and looks at ANTHONY; TENCH coveys his nervousness by arranging papers.]
ANTHONY. Bring me a whiskey and soda.
FROST. Anything to eat, sir?