MRS. CALLIFER: You know I loved him. One can love a fake. Perhaps it’s easier than loving rectitude. All his life he’d written on the necessity for proof. Proof, proof, proof. And then a proof was pushed under his nose, at the bottom of his own garden. Fred, I saw his face. We always knew each other’s thoughts. I could hear him saying to himself, “Must I recall all those books and start again?” But I was trained to my job. I began to protect him—my husband, not my son.

BASTON: But you didn’t believe—

MRS. CALLIFER: No, I didn’t. It was a long time before I realized just how much he did.

In the embarrassed silence a door slams. Voices in the hall. Anne enters, followed by John.

ANNE: Hello, Uncle James. Have you come for Christmas?

JOHN: What a gathering!

MRS. CALLIFER: John, take Anne upstairs to bed. We have a lot to talk about.

ANNE: But you promised me a glass of wine.

MRS. CALLIFER: Tomorrow, Anne. It’s late. Now you’ve had a nice party—

ANNE: It was the most hideous party of the year.

JOHN: I do wish you’d forget that word “hideous,” Anne. You only picked it up last term. Come along.

JAMES: I’ll come up and say good night. I’ve something for you.

ANNE: Thank you, Uncle James. I can trust your promises. (To Mrs. Callifer): All right, I’ll go. But I’ve got hideous suspicions. (She is dragged out by John.)

BASTON: I suppose we must resume—

MRS. CALLIFER: Fred, it’s late. Can’t we sleep on this?

BASTON: It’s gone too far, Mary. We’ve got to decide—(James, reminded by the sight of Anne of his present, draws a toy revolver from his pocket, twirling the chamber to see that it’s in working order. Baston becomes rigid. Neither Sara nor Kreuzer have seen. Mrs. Callifer has, but she recognizes it easily as a toy.) What’s that?

JAMES: A gun!

BASTON: I told you he’s determined to kill himself.

MRS. CALLIFER: Really, Fred, can’t you recognize a toy when you see one?

BASTON (furious): Buffoonery!

JAMES: I bought it on the way for Anne. It seemed a suitable present for a detective. I have a magnifying glass here too—but perhaps that’s more suitable for Dr. Baston.

SARA: James, you came to see me?

JAMES: Yes.

SARA: Then please, all of you, won’t you leave us alone.

BASTON: I won’t take the responsibility.

MRS. CALLIFER: Then I will.

SARA: Dr. Kreuzer, my bag’s in the hall. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.

Mrs. Callifer walks firmly out. Kreuzer follows her. Baston hesitates and then follows too. Pause.

JAMES: Do you think I’m mad?

SARA: I don’t know.

JAMES: Is everyone who believes in a God mad?