BURGE-LUBIN. Yes: I know. Can you explain it?
CONFUCIUS. It cannot be explained. It is not reasonable. Therefore I do
not believe it.
_The Accountant General rushes in, looking ghastly. He staggers to the
middle of the table._
BURGE-LUBIN. Whats the matter? Are you ill?
BARNABAS [_choking_] No. I--[_he collapses into the middle chair_]. I
must speak to you in private.
_Confucius calmly withdraws._
BURGE-LUBIN. What on earth is it? Have some oxygen.
BARNABAS. I have had some. Go to the Record Office. You will see men
fainting there again and again, and being revived with oxygen, as I have
been. They have seen with their own eyes as I have.
BURGE-LUBIN. Seen what?
BARNABAS. Seen the Archbishop of York.
BURGE-LUBIN. Well, why shouldn't they see the Archbishop of York? What
are they fainting for? Has he been murdered?
BARNABAS. No: he has been drowned.
BURGE-LUBIN. Good God! Where? When? How? Poor fellow!
BARNABAS. Poor fellow! Poor thief! Poor swindler! Poor robber of his
country's Exchequer! Poor fellow indeed! Wait til I catch him.
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