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.