SWINDON. What’s your name?
CHRISTY. Christy.
RICHARD (impatiently). Christopher Dudgeon, you blatant idiot. Give your full name.
SWINDON. Be silent, prisoner. You must not prompt the witness.
RICHARD. Very well. But I warn you you’ll get nothing out of him unless you shake it out of him. He has been too well brought up by a pious mother to have any sense or manhood left in him.
BURGOYNE (springing up and speaking to the sergeant in a startling voice). Where is the man who brought these?
SERGEANT. In the guardroom, sir.
Burgoyne goes out with a haste that sets the officers exchanging looks.
SWINDON (to Christy). Do you know Anthony Anderson, the Presbyterian minister?
CHRISTY. Of course I do. (Implying that Swindon must be an ass not to know it.)
SWINDON. Is he here?
CHRISTY (staring round). I don’t know.
SWINDON. Do you see him?
CHRISTY. No.
SWINDON. You seem to know the prisoner?
CHRISTY. Do you mean Dick?
SWINDON. Which is Dick?
CHRISTY (pointing to Richard). Him.
SWINDON. What is his name?
CHRISTY. Dick.
RICHARD. Answer properly, you jumping jackass. What do they know about Dick?
CHRISTY. Well, you are Dick, ain’t you? What am I to say?
SWINDON. Address me, sir; and do you, prisoner, be silent. Tell us who the prisoner is.
CHRISTY. He’s my brother Dudgeon.
SWINDON. Your brother!
CHRISTY. Yes.
SWINDON. You are sure he is not Anderson.
CHRISTY. Who?
RICHARD (exasperatedly). Me, me, me, you —
SWINDON. Silence, sir.
SERGEANT (shouting). Silence.
RICHARD (impatiently). Yah! (To Christy) He wants to know am I Minister Anderson. Tell him, and stop grinning like a zany.
CHRISTY (grinning more than ever). YOU Pastor Anderson! (To Swindon) Why, Mr. Anderson’s a minister — a very good man; and Dick’s a bad character: the respectable people won’t speak to him. He’s the bad brother: I’m the good one, (The officers laugh outright. The soldiers grin.)
SWINDON. Who arrested this man?
SERGEANT. I did, sir. I found him in the minister’s house, sitting at tea with the lady with his coat off, quite at home. If he isn’t married to her, he ought to be.
SWINDON. Did he answer to the minister’s name?
SERGEANT. Yes sir, but not to a minister’s nature. You ask the chaplain, sir.
SWINDON (to Richard, threateningly). So, sir, you have attempted to cheat us. And your name is Richard Dudgeon?
RICHARD. You’ve found it out at last, have you?
SWINDON. Dudgeon is a name well known to us, eh?
RICHARD. Yes: Peter Dudgeon, whom you murdered, was my uncle.
SWINDON. Hm! (He compresses his lips and looks at Richard with vindictive gravity.)
CHRISTY. Are they going to hang you, Dick?
RICHARD. Yes. Get out: they’ve done with you.
CHRISTY. And I may keep the china peacocks?
RICHARD (jumping up). Get out. Get out, you blithering baboon, you. (Christy flies, panicstricken.)
SWINDON (rising — all rise). Since you have taken the minister’s place, Richard Dudgeon, you shall go through with it. The execution will take place at 12 o’clock as arranged; and unless Anderson surrenders before then you shall take his place on the gallows. Sergeant: take your man out.
JUDITH (distracted). No, no —
SWINDON (fiercely, dreading a renewal of her entreaties). Take that woman away.
RICHARD (springing across the table with a tiger-like bound, and seizing Swindon by the throat). You infernal scoundrel.
The sergeant rushes to the rescue from one side, the soldiers from the other. They seize Richard and drag him back to his place. Swindon, who has been thrown supine on the table, rises, arranging his stock. He is about to speak, when he is anticipated by Burgoyne, who has just appeared at the door with two papers in his hand: a white letter and a blue dispatch.
BURGOYNE (advancing to the table, elaborately cool). What is this? What’s happening? Mr. Anderson: I’m astonished at you.
RICHARD. I am sorry I disturbed you, General. I merely wanted to strangle your understrapper there. (Breaking out violently at Swindon) Why do you raise the devil in me by bullying the woman like that? You oatmeal faced dog, I’d twist your cursed head off with the greatest satisfaction. (He puts out his hands to the sergeant) Here: handcuff me, will you; or I’ll not undertake to keep my fingers off him.
The sergeant takes out a pair of handcuffs and looks to Burgoyne for instructions.
BURGOYNE. Have you addressed profane language to the lady, Major Swindon?
SWINDON (very angry). No, sir, certainly not. That question should not have been put to me. I ordered the woman to be removed, as she was disorderly; and the fellow sprang at me. Put away those handcuffs. I am perfectly able to take care of myself.
RICHARD. Now you talk like a man, I have no quarrel with you.
BURGOYNE. Mr. Anderson —
SWINDON. His name is Dudgeon, sir, Richard Dudgeon. He is an impostor.
BURGOYNE (brusquely). Nonsense, sir; you hanged Dudgeon at Springtown.
RICHARD. It was my uncle, General.
BURGOYNE. Oh, your uncle. (To Swindon, handsomely) I beg your pardon, Major Swindon. (Swindon acknowledges the apology stiffly. Burgoyne turns to Richard) We are somewhat unfortunate in our relations with your family. Well, Mr. Dudgeon, what I wanted to ask you is this: Who is (reading the name from the letter) William Maindeck Parshotter?
RICHARD. He is the Mayor of Springtown.
BURGOYNE. Is William — Maindeck and so on — a man of his word?
RICHARD. Is he selling you anything?
BURGOYNE. No.
RICHARD. Then you may depend on him.
BURGOYNE. Thank you, Mr.— ‘m Dudgeon. By the way, since you are not Mr. Anderson, do we still — eh, Major Swindon? (meaning “do we still hang him?”)
RICHARD. The arrangements are unaltered, General.
BURGOYNE. Ah, indeed. I am sorry. Good morning, Mr. Dudgeon. Good morning, madam.
RICHARD (interrupting Judith almost fiercely as she is about to make some wild appeal, and taking her arm resolutely). Not one word more. Come.
She looks imploringly at him, but is overborne by his determination. They are marched out by the four soldiers: the sergeant, very sulky, walking between Swindon and Richard, whom he watches as if he were a dangerous animal.
BURGOYNE. Gentlemen: we need not detain you. Major Swindon: a word with you. (The officers go out. Burgoyne waits with unruffled serenity until the last of them disappears. Then he becomes very grave, and