WALTER. You want me to write to him?
HECTOR. [Nodding.] To him. Who else? A confession? I've had that. His name?
WALTER. [Dropping the pen and half rising.] I won't—
HECTOR. [Springing upon him in a mad fury, and forcing him back into the chair.] You won't, you dog! You dare say that—to me! By Heaven, you will! You'll lick the dust off this floor, if I tell you! You'll go on your hands and knees, and crawl! Sit down, you! Sit down and take up your filthy pen. So. [Thoroughly cowed, WALTER has taken up the pen again.] And now—his name. Don't make me ask you again, I tell you, don't. What is it?
WALTER. Richard.
HECTOR. Very well, Richard. So write that down. To Richard Gillingham. I have to-day proposed to your daughter, and she has accepted me. Got that? She has accepted me. But I can't marry her—can't marry her—because I have seduced the wife of my friend Hector Allen—
WALTER. [Appealingly, dropping his pen.] Hector!
HECTOR. [Frantically gripping WALTER by the throat, till he takes up his pen again.] The wife of my friend Hector Allen—write it—and plainly, you hound, plainly—so—and because I am taking the woman away with me to-night.
BETTY. [With a loud cry.] Hector!
HECTOR. [Over his shoulder, watching WALTER write.] Silence, over there, you! Hold your tongue! Go into your room and put on your things—we've done with you here! Take what you want—I don't care—you don't show your face here again. And you—[he taps his clenched hand against WALTER'S arm] write. What are you stopping for? How far have you got? [He peers over WALTER'S shoulder.] Because—I—am—taking— the—woman—away—with—me—to-night.