asking questions may
be a disease, as well as proclaiming doctrines? You talk of religious
mania! Is there no such thing as irreligious mania? Is there no such
thing in the house at this moment?

DOCTOR. Then you think no one should question at all.

SMITH. [_With passion, pointing to the next room._] I think _that_ is
what comes of questioning! Why can't you leave the universe alone and
let it mean what it likes? Why shouldn't the thunder be Jupiter? More
men have made themselves silly by wondering what the devil it was if it
wasn't Jupiter.

DOCTOR. [_Looking at him._] Do you believe in your own religion?

SMITH. [_Returning the look equally steadily._] Suppose I don't: I
should still be a fool to question it. The child who doubts about Santa
Claus has insomnia. The child who believes has a good night's rest.

DOCTOR. You are a Pragmatist.

_Enter_ DUKE, _absent-mindedly._

SMITH. That is what the lawyers call vulgar abuse. But I do appeal to
practise. Here is a family over which you tell me a mental calamity
hovers. Here is the boy who questions everything and a girl who can
believe anything. Upon which has the curse fallen?

DUKE. Talking about the Pragmatists. I'm glad to hear.... Ah, very
forward movement! I suppose Roosevelt now.... [_Silence._] Well, we move
you know, we move! First there was the Missing Link. [_Silence._] No!
_First_ there was Protoplasm--and _then_ there was the Missing Link; and
Magna Carta and so on. [_Silence._] Why, look at the Insurance Act!

DOCTOR. I would rather not.

DUKE. [_Wagging a playful finger at him._] Ah, prejudice, prejudice! You
doctors, you know! Well, I never had any myself.

[_Silence._

DOCTOR. [_Breaking the silence in unusual exasperation._] Any what?

DUKE. [_Firmly._] Never had any Marconis myself. Wouldn't touch 'em.
[_Silence._] Well, I must speak to Hastings.

[_Exit_ DUKE, _aimlessly._

DOCTOR. [_Exploding._] Well, of all the.... [_Turns to_ SMITH.] You
asked me just now which member of the family had inherited the family
madness.

SMITH. Yes; I did.

DOCTOR. [_In a low, emphatic voice._] On my living soul, I believe it
must be the Duke.

CURTAIN

ACT III

_Room partly darkened, a table with a lamp on it, and an empty
chair. From room next door faint and occasional sounds of the
tossing or talking of the invalid._

_Enter_ DOCTOR GRIMTHORPE _with a rather careworn air, and a
medic