JOB ARTHUR. Quiet a bit—quiet everybody—he's got to answer—keep quiet.—Now—— (A silence.) Now then, Barlow, will you answer, or won't you? (Silence.)
ANABEL. Answer them, Gerald—never mind.
VOICES. Sh-h-h! Sh-h-h! (Silence.)
JOB ARTHUR. You won't answer, Barlow?
VOICE. Down the beggar!
VOICES. Down him—put his nose down—flatten him!
(The crowd surges and begins to howl—they sway dangerously—GERALD
is spread-eagled on the floor, face down.)
JOB ARTHUR. Back—back—back a minute—back—back! (They recoil.)
WILLIE. I HOPE there's a God in heaven.
VOICES. Put him down—flatten him!