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three times. When I persuaded the authorities to knock down all our towns and rebuild them from the foundations, or move them, I went into the artillery, and became a general. I have been President. Burge-Lubin Dickenson? The Archbishop Yes. Burge-Lubin But they found Dickenson’s body: its ashes are buried in St. Paul’s. The Archbishop They almost always found the body. During the bathing season there are plenty of bodies. I have been cremated again and again. At first I used to attend my own funeral in disguise, because I had read about a man doing that in an old romance by an author named Bennett, from whom I remember borrowing five pounds in 1912. But I got tired of that. I would not cross the street now to read my latest epitaph. The Chief Secretary and the President look very glum. Their incredulity is vanquished at last. Burge-Lubin Look here. Do you chaps realize how awful this is? Here we are sitting calmly in the presence of a man whose death is overdue by two centuries. He may crumble into dust before our eyes at any moment. Barnabas Not he. He’ll go on drawing his pension until the end of the world. The Archbishop Not quite that. My expectation of life is only three hundred years. Barnabas You will last out my time anyhow: that’s enough for me. The Archbishop Coolly. How do you know? Barnabas Taken aback. How do I know! The Archbishop Yes: how do you know? I did not begin even to suspect until I was nearly seventy. I was only vain of my youthful appearance. I was not quite serious about it until I was ninety. Even now I am not sure from one moment to another, though I have given you my reason for thinking that I have quite unintentionally committed myself to a lifetime of three hundred years. Burge-Lubin But how do you do it? Is it lemons? Is it Soya beans? Is it⁠— The Archbishop I do not do it. It happens. It may happen to anyone. It may happen to you. Burge-Lubin The full significance of this for himself dawning on him. Then we three may be in the same boat with you, for all we know? The Archbishop You may. Therefore I advise you to be very careful how you take any step that will make my position uncomfortable. Burge-Lubin Well, I’m dashed! One of my secretaries was remarking only this morning how well and young I am looking. Barnabas: I have an absolute conviction that I am one of the⁠—the⁠—shall I say one of the victims?⁠—of this strange destiny. The Archbishop Your great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather formed the same conviction when he was between sixty and seventy. I knew him. Burge-Lubin Depressed. Ah! But he died. The Archbishop No. Burge-Lubin Hopefully. Do you mean to say he is still alive? The Archbishop No. He was shot. Under the influence of his belief that he was going to live three hundred years he became a changed man. He began to tell people the truth; and they disliked it so much that they took advantage of certain clauses of an Act of Parliament he had himself passed during the Four Years War, and had purposely forgotten to repeal afterwards. They took him to the Tower of London and shot him. The apparatus rings. Confucius Answering. Yes? He listens. A Woman’s Voice The Domestic Minister has called. Burge-Lubin Not quite catching the answer. Who does she say has called? Confucius The Domestic Minister. Barnabas Oh, dash it! That awful woman! Burge-Lubin She certainly is a bit of a terror. I don’t exactly know why; for she is not at all bad-looking. Barnabas Out of patience. For Heaven’s sake, don’t be frivolous. The Archbishop He cannot help it, Mr. Accountant General. Three of his sixteen great-great-great-grandfathers married Lubins. Burge-Lubin Tut tut! I am not frivolling. I did not ask the lady here. Which of you did? Confucius It is her official duty to report personally to the President once a quarter. Burge-Lubin Oh, that. Then I suppose it’s my official duty to receive her. They’d better send her in. You don’t mind, do you? She will bring us back to real life. I don’t know how you fellows feel; but I’m just going dotty. Confucius Into the telephone. The President will receive the Domestic Minister at once. They watch the door in silence for the entrance of the Domestic Minister. Burge-Lubin Suddenly, to the Archbishop. I suppose you have been married over and over again. The Archbishop Once. You do not make vows until death when death is three hundred years off. They relapse into uneasy silence. The Domestic Minister enters. She is a handsome woman, apparently in the prime of life, with elegant, tense, well held-up figure, and the walk of a goddess. Her expression and deportment are grave, swift, decisive, awful, unanswerable. She wears a Dianesque tunic instead of a blouse, and a silver coronet instead of a gold fillet. Her dress otherwise is not markedly different from that of the men, who rise as she enters, and incline their heads with instinctive awe. She comes to the vacant chair between Barnabas and Confucius. Burge-Lubin Resolutely genial and gallant. Delighted to see you, Mrs. Lutestring. Confucius We are honored by your celestial presence. Barnabas Good day, madam. The Archbishop I have not had the pleasure of meeting you before. I am the Archbishop of York. Mrs. Lutestring Surely we have met, Mr. Archbishop. I remember your face. We⁠—She checks herself suddenly. Ah, no: I remember now: it was someone else. She sits down. They all sit down. The Archbishop Also puzzled. Are you sure you are mistaken? I also have some association with your face, Mrs. Lutestring. Something like a door opening continually and revealing you. And a smile of welcome when you recognized me. Did you ever open a door for me, I wonder? Mrs. Lutestring I often opened a door for the person you have just reminded me of. But he has been dead many years. The rest, except the Archbishop, look at