Richard.  But it has struck the hour.

Sergeant.  So it has, sir; but there’s a delay.  General Burgoyne’s just arrived—­Gentlemanly Johnny we call him, sir—­and he won’t have done finding fault with everything this side of half past.  I know him, sir:  I served with him in Portugal.  You may count on twenty minutes, sir; and by your leave I won’t waste any more of them. (He goes out, locking the door.  Richard immediately drops his raffish manner and turns to Judith with considerate sincerity.)

Richard.  Mrs. Anderson:  this visit is very kind of you.  And how are you after last night?  I had to leave you before you recovered; but I sent word to Essie to go and look after you.  Did she understand the message?

Judith (breathless and urgent).  Oh, don’t think of me:  I haven’t come here to talk about myself.  Are they going to—­to—­(meaning “to hang you")?

Richard (whimsically).  At noon, punctually.  At least, that was when they disposed of Uncle Peter. (She shudders.) Is your husband safe?  Is he on the wing?

Judith.  He is no longer my husband.

Richard (opening his eyes wide).  Eh!

Judith.  I disobeyed you.  I told him everything.  I expected him to come here and save you.  I wanted him to come here and save you.  He ran away instead.

Richard.  Well, that’s what I meant him to do.  What good would his staying have done?  They’d only have hanged us both.

Judith (with reproachful earnestness).  Richard Dudgeon:  on your honour, what would you have done in his place?

Richard.  Exactly what he has done, of course.

Judith.  Oh, why will you not be simple with me—­honest and straightforward?  If you are so selfish as that, why did you let them take you last night?

Richard (gaily).  Upon my life, Mrs. Anderson, I don’t know.  I’ve been asking myself that question ever since; and I can find no manner of reason for acting as I did.

Judith.  You know you did it for his sake, believing he was a more worthy man than yourself.

Richard (laughing).  Oho!  No:  that’s a very pretty reason, I must say; but I’m not so modest as that.  No:  it wasn’t for his sake.

Judith (after a pause, during which she looks shamefacedly at him, blushing painfully).  Was it for my sake?

Richard (gallantly).  Well, you had a hand in it.  It must have been a little for your sake.  You let them take me, at all events.

Judith.  Oh, do you think I have not been telling myself that all night?  Your death will be at my door. (Impulsively, she gives him her hand, and adds, with intense earnestness) If I could save you as you saved him, I would do it, no matter how cruel the death was.

Richard (holding her hand and smiling, but keeping her almost at arm’s length).  I am very sure I shouldn’t let you.