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.