HECTOR.  Not that stylograph—­that’s mine—­his dirty hands shan’t touch it—­I could never use it again.  Fetch your pen—­yours—­you belong to him, don’t you?  Go in and fetch it.  D’you hear?

     [BETTY goes into the inner room again.

HECTOR.  My wife.  And you the man I’ve done more for than for any one else in the world.  The man I cared for, you low dog.  Used my house—­came here because it was dull at the Club—­and took my wife?  I don’t know why I don’t kill you.  I’ve the right.  But I won’t.  You shall pay for it, my fine fellow—­you are going to pay—­now.

[BETTY brings a pen and an inkstand; she places them on the table; HECTOR seizes them and pushes them in front of WALTER.  BETTY slinks to the other side of the room, and stands by the sofa.

HECTOR. [To WALTER.] Now you write.  You hear?  You write what I dictate.  Word for word.  What’s the old brute’s name?

WALTER.  Whose?

HECTOR.  Whose!  Her father, the sealing-wax man, old Gillingham?

WALTER. [Staring.] Gillingham?

HECTOR.  Gillingham.  Yes.  What is it?

WALTER.  You want me to write to him?

HECTOR. [Nodding.] To him.  Who else?  A confession?  I’ve had that.  His name?

WALTER. [Dropping the pen and half rising.] I won’t—­

HECTOR. [Springing upon him in a mad fury, and forcing him back into the chair.] You won’t, you dog!  You dare say that—­to me!  By Heaven, you will!  You’ll lick the dust off this floor, if I tell you!  You’ll go on your hands and knees, and crawl!  Sit down, you!  Sit down and take up your filthy pen.  So. [Thoroughly cowed, WALTER has taken up the pen again.] And now—­his name.  Don’t make me ask you again, I tell you, don’t.  What is it?

WALTER.  Richard.

HECTOR.  Very well, Richard.  So write that down.  To Richard Gillingham.  I have to-day proposed to your daughter, and she has accepted me.  Got that?  She has accepted me.  But I can’t marry her—­can’t marry her—­because I have seduced the wife of my friend Hector Allen—­

WALTER. [Appealingly, dropping his pen.] Hector!

HECTOR. [Frantically gripping WALTER by the throat, till he takes up his pen again.] The wife of my friend Hector Allen—­write it—­and plainly, you hound, plainly—­so—­and because I am taking the woman away with me to-night.

BETTY. [With a loud cry.] Hector!

HECTOR. [Over his shoulder, watching WALTER write.] Silence, over there, you!  Hold your tongue!  Go into your room and put on your things—­we’ve done with you here!  Take what you want—­I don’t care—­you don’t show your face here again.  And you—­[he taps his clenched hand against WALTER’S arm] write.  What are you stopping for?  How far have you got? [He peers over WALTER’S shoulder.] Because—­I—­am—­taking—­ the—­woman—­away—­with—­me—­to-night.