Robert. [To Anthony, with passionate intensity.] Why don’t ye answer?

Harness.  Roberts!

Roberts. [Turning sharply.] What is it?

Harness. [Gravely.] You’re talking without the book; things have travelled past you.

     [He makes a sign to Tench, who beckons the Directors.  They
     quickly sign his copy of the terms.]

Look at this, man! [Holding up his sheet of paper.] “Demands conceded, with the exception of those relating to the engineers and furnace-men.  Double wages for Saturday’s overtime.  Night-shifts as they are.”  These terms have been agreed.  The men go back to work again to-morrow.  The strike is at an end.

Roberts. [Reading the paper, and turning on the men.  They shrink back from him, all but Rous, who stands his ground.  With deadly stillness.] Ye have gone back on me?  I stood by ye to the death; ye waited for that to throw me over!

     [The men answer, all speaking together.]

Rous.  It’s a lie!

Thomas.  Ye were past endurance, man.

Green.  If ye’d listen to me!

Bulgin. (Under his breath.) Hold your jaw!

Roberts.  Ye waited for that!

Harness. [Taking the Director’s copy of the terms, and handing his own to Tench.] That’s enough, men.  You had better go.

     [The men shuffle slowly, awkwardly away.]

Wilder. [In a low, nervous voice.] There’s nothing to stay for now, I suppose. [He follows to the door.] I shall have a try for that train!  Coming, Scantlebury?

Scantlebury. [Following with Wanklin.] Yes, yes; wait for me. [He stops as Roberts speaks.]

Roberts. [To Anthony.] But ye have not signed them terms!  They can’t make terms without their Chairman!  Ye would never sign them terms! [Anthony looks at him without speaking.] Don’t tell me ye have! for the love o’ God! [With passionate appeal.] I reckoned on ye!

Harness. [Holding out the Director’s copy of the teems.] The Board has signed!

     [Roberts looks dully at the signatures—­dashes the paper from
     him, and covers up his eyes.]

Scantlebury. [Behind his hand to Tench.] Look after the Chairman!  He’s not well; he’s not well—­he had no lunch.  If there’s any fund started for the women and children, put me down for—­for twenty pounds.

[He goes out into the hall, in cumbrous haste; and Wanklin, who has been staring at Roberts and Anthony With twitchings of his face, follows.  Edgar remains seated on the sofa, looking at the ground; Tench, returning to the bureau, writes in his minute—­ book.  Harness stands by the little table, gravely watching Roberts.]

Roberts.  Then you’re no longer Chairman of this Company! [Breaking into half-mad laughter.] Ah! ha-ah, ha, ha!  They’ve thrown ye over thrown over their Chairman:  Ah-ha-ha! [With a sudden dreadful calm.] So—­they’ve done us both down, Mr. Anthony?