Richard (indignantly).  Shame!

Burgoyne (keenly, with a half smile).  If you are not her husband, sir, the case is not a serious one—­for her. (Richard bites his lip silenced.)

Judith (to Richard, as she returns to her seat).  I couldn’t help it. (He shakes his head.  She sits down.)

Burgoyne.  You will understand of course, Mr. Anderson, that you must not build on this little incident.  We are bound to make an example of somebody.

Richard.  I quite understand.  I suppose there’s no use in my explaining.

Burgoyne.  I think we should prefer independent testimony, if you don’t mind.

The sergeant, with a packet of papers in his hand, returns conducting Christy, who is much scared.

Sergeant (giving Burgoyne the packet).  Dispatches, Sir.  Delivered by a corporal of the 53rd.  Dead beat with hard riding, sir.

Burgoyne opens the dispatches, and presently becomes absorbed in them.  They are so serious as to take his attention completely from the court martial.

Sergeant (to Christy).  Now then.  Attention; and take your hat off. (He posts himself in charge of Christy, who stands on Burgoyne’s side of the court.)

Richard (in his usual bullying tone to Christy).  Don’t be frightened, you fool:  you’re only wanted as a witness.  They’re not going to hang you.

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 guard-room, 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?