Swindon.  As a matter of form, sir, give your name.

Richard.  As a matter of form then, my name is Anthony Anderson,
Presbyterian minister in this town.

Burgoyne (interested).  Indeed!  Pray, Mr. Anderson, what do you gentlemen believe?

Richard.  I shall be happy to explain if time is allowed me.  I cannot undertake to complete your conversion in less than a fortnight.

Swindon (snubbing him).  We are not here to discuss your views.

Burgoyne (with an elaborate bow to the unfortunate Swindon).  I stand rebuked.

Swindon (embarrassed).  Oh, not you, I as—­

Burgoyne.  Don’t mention it. (To Richard, very politely) Any political views, Mr. Anderson?

Richard.  I understand that that is just what we are here to find out.

Swindon (severely).  Do you mean to deny that you are a rebel?

Richard.  I am an American, sir.

Swindon.  What do you expect me to think of that speech, Mr.
Anderson?

Richard.  I never expect a soldier to think, sir.

Burgoyne is boundlessly delighted by this retort, which almost reconciles him to the loss of America.

Swindon (whitening with anger).  I advise you not to be insolent, prisoner.

Richard.  You can’t help yourself, General.  When you make up your mind to hang a man, you put yourself at a disadvantage with him.  Why should I be civil to you?  I may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.

Swindon.  You have no right to assume that the court has made up its mind without a fair trial.  And you will please not address me as General.  I am Major Swindon.

Richard.  A thousand pardons.  I thought I had the honor of addressing Gentlemanly Johnny.

Sensation among the officers.  The sergeant has a narrow escape from a guffaw.

Burgoyne (with extreme suavity).  I believe I am Gentlemanly Johnny, sir, at your service.  My more intimate friends call me General Burgoyne. (Richard bows with perfect politeness.) You will understand, sir, I hope, since you seem to be a gentleman and a man of some spirit in spite of your calling, that if we should have the misfortune to hang you, we shall do so as a mere matter of political necessity and military duty, without any personal ill-feeling.

Richard.  Oh, quite so.  That makes all the difference in the world, of course.

They all smile in spite of themselves:  and some of the younger officers burst out laughing.

Judith (her dread and horror deepening at every one of these jests and compliments).  How can you?

Richard.  You promised to be silent.

Burgoyne (to Judith, with studied courtesy).  Believe me, madam, your husband is placing us under the greatest obligation by taking this very disagreeable business so thoroughly in the spirit of a gentleman.  Sergeant:  give Mr. Anderson a chair. (The sergeant does so.  Richard sits down.) Now, Major Swindon:  we are waiting for you.