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handsomely ornamented sandals, and a gold fillet round his brows, comes in. He is like Joyce Burge, yet also like Lubin, as if Nature had made a composite photograph of the two men. He takes off the fillet and hangs it on a peg; then sits down in the presidential chair at the head of the table, which is at the end farthest from the door. He puts a peg into his switchboard; turns the pointer on the dial; puts another peg in; and presses a button. Immediately the silvery screen vanishes; and in its place appears, in reverse from right to left, another office similarly furnished, with a thin, unamiable man similarly dressed, but in duller colors, turning over some documents at the table. His gold fillet is hanging up on a similar peg beside the door. He is rather like Conrad Barnabas, but younger, and much more commonplace.

Burge-Lubin	Hallo, Barnabas!
Barnabas	Without looking round. What number?
Burge-Lubin	Five double x three two gamma. Burge-Lubin.
	Barnabas puts a plug in number five; turns his pointer to double x; and another plug in 32; presses a button and looks round at Burge-Lubin, who is now visible to him as well as audible.
Barnabas	Curtly. Oh! That you, President?
Burge-Lubin	Yes. They told me you wanted me to ring you up. Anything wrong?
Barnabas	Harsh and querulous. I wish to make a protest.
Burge-Lubin	Good-humored and mocking. What! Another protest! What’s wrong now?
Barnabas	If you only knew all the protests I haven’t made, you would be surprised at my patience. It is you who are always treating me with the grossest want of consideration.
Burge-Lubin	What have I done now?
Barnabas	You have put me down to go to the Record Office today to receive that American fellow, and do the honors of a ridiculous cinema show. That is not the business of the Accountant General: it is the business of the President. It is an outrageous waste of my time, and an unjustifiable shirking of your duty at my expense. I refuse to go. You must go.
Burge-Lubin	My dear boy, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to take the job off your hands⁠—
Barnabas	Then do it. That’s all I want. He is about to switch off.
Burge-Lubin	Don’t switch off. Listen. This American has invented a method of breathing under water.
Barnabas	What do I care? I don’t want to breathe under water.
Burge-Lubin	You may, my dear Barnabas, at any time. You know you never look where you are going when you are immersed in your calculations. Some day you will walk into the Serpentine. This man’s invention may save your life.
Barnabas	Angrily. Will you tell me what that has to do with your putting your ceremonial duties on to my shoulders? I will not be trifled⁠—He vanishes and is replaced by the blank screen.
Burge-Lubin	Indignantly holding down his button. Don’t cut us off, please: we have not finished. I am the President, speaking to the Accountant General. What are you dreaming of?
A Woman’s Voice	Sorry. The screen shows Barnabas as before.
Burge-Lubin	Since you take it that way, I will go in your place. It’s a pity, because, you see, this American thinks you are the greatest living authority on the duration of human life; and⁠—
Barnabas	Interrupting. The American thinks! What do you mean? I am the greatest living authority on the duration of human life. Who dares dispute it?
Burge-Lubin	Nobody, dear lad, nobody. Don’t fly out at me. It is evident that you have not read the American’s book.
Barnabas	Don’t tell me that you have, or that you have read any book except a novel for the last twenty years; for I won’t believe you.
Burge-Lubin	Quite right, dear old fellow: I haven’t read it. But I have read what The Times Literary Supplement says about it.
Barnabas	I don’t care two straws what it says about it. Does it say anything about me?
Burge-Lubin	Yes.
Barnabas	Oh, does it? What?
Burge-Lubin	It points out that an extraordinary number of first-rate persons like you and me have died by drowning during the last two centuries, and that when this invention of breathing under water takes effect, your estimate of the average duration of human life will be upset.
Barnabas	Alarmed. Upset my estimate! Gracious Heavens! Does the fool realize what that means? Do you realize what that means?
Burge-Lubin	I suppose it means that we shall have to amend the Act.
Barnabas	Amend my Act! Monstrous!
Burge-Lubin	But we must. We can’t ask people to go on working until they are forty-three unless our figures are unchallengeable. You know what a row there was over those last three years, and how nearly the too-old-at-forty people won.
Barnabas	They would have made the British Islands bankrupt if they’d won. But you don’t care for that; you care for nothing but being popular.
Burge-Lubin	Oh, well: I shouldn’t worry if I were you; for most people complain that there is not enough work for them, and would be only too glad to stick on instead of retiring at forty-three, if only they were asked as a favor instead of having to.
Barnabas	Thank you: I need no consolation. He rises determinedly and puts on his fillet.
Burge-Lubin	Are you off? Where are you going to?
Barnabas	To that cinema tomfoolery, of course. I shall put this American impostor in his place. He goes out.
Burge-Lubin	Calling after him. God bless you, dear old chap! With a chuckle, he switches off; and the screen becomes blank. He presses a button and holds it down while he calls. Hallo!
A Woman’s Voice	Hallo!
Burge-Lubin	Formally. The President respectfully solicits the privilege of an interview with the Chief Secretary, and holds himself entirely at his honor’s august disposal.
A Chinese Voice	He is coming.
Burge-Lubin	Oh! That you, Confucius? So good of you. Come along. He releases the button.
	A man in a yellow gown, presenting the general appearance of a Chinese sage, enters.
Burge-Lubin	Jocularly. Well, illustrious Sage-&⁠—Onions, how are