GEORGE: That’s the one. I visited it once. Quite nice. I’ll look at it again in the morning.

WILLIAM: I don’t quite understand.

GEORGE: Do you want it plainer?

WILLIAM: These people aren’t mad.

GEORGE: The Cabinet has decided that the public is not to know about these people until the war is over.

WILLIAM: But why? They’re not mad!

GEORGE: Now listen to me. In Germany Stef would have been put to death a long time ago. The basis of Nazism is that there is a pure Aryan race and it must be kept free from impure bloodlines or genetic faults. Since they have come to power they have systematically murdered the retarded and deformed. Imagine the glee with which the Germans would greet the news that it only took three generations to result in someone like Stef. What a coup for Nazi propaganda. They would be proved right. Once the war is over, then we’ll allow the public to know about them.

WILLIAM: You can’t do this. They didn’t come back to civilisation to be put into an asylum.

GEORGE: These people should not be seen as examples of the correctness of Nazi beliefs.

WILLIAM: But you’ll prove it! You’ve demonstrated they are right by locking these people up…

GEORGE: This is war, Archer. I’m saying that the Nazis will bend, reshape the information for their own purposes. These people cannot be seen to be an endorsement of Nazi beliefs. [Pause.] Can’t you see the Government’s position?

WILLIAM: I don’t have much choice, do I?

GEORGE: No.

STEF rolls around making wind noises. GEORGE stares at him.

You know, in some ways the Nazis are right. It took only three generations to get to him, only three generations to lose a language, the power to speak. They are a genetic graveyard. [Pause.] I must get back to my hotel. Tomorrow will be hectic.

WILLIAM: I’ll phone for a taxi.

They walk off in silence. BETSHEB and FRANCIS enter happily from the garden.

FRANCIS: And is that your favourite spot?

BETSHEB: I eye the skyey blue ’n’ call t’ yer. Call ’n’ call ’n’ yer come.

He takes her by the waist and they dance to distant piano music. ELIZABETH enters.

ELIZABETH: There you are. Don’t you want to come in and watch Mr Turner play? He came especially.

FRANCIS: We can hear it out here.

ELIZABETH: If Mr Turner hadn’t been born blind he would have been a great pianist. She missed you. Every morning she asked William where you were. He, as you know, has become quite, quite fascinated by them. [She picks up a wine glass and sips from it.] Tipsy. It’s as if the dead have come alive. Ghosts from the nether world of an Australian childhood.

The piano stops. BETSHEB steps away and goes into the garden near the temple steps.