War. (stepping back) Excuse me.—I do not understand.
Col. G. I beg your pardon. I ought to have explained.
War. I believe something of the sort is necessary.
Col. G. You are my master's friend.
War. I should be proud of the honour. Can I be of any service to him?
Col. G. I believe I can trust you. I will trust you—I am his father.
War. Whose father? Belzebub's?
Col. G. Arthur's—your friend Gervaise's. I am Sir Walter Gervaise. You must help me to help him.
WARREN regards him for a moment.
War. (stiffly) Sir Walter, I owe your son much—you nothing yet. I am his friend.