less
you shake it out of him. He has been too well brought up by a pious
mother to have any sense or manhood left in him.

BURGOYNE (springing up and speaking to the sergeant in a startling
voice). Where is the man who brought these?

SERGEANT. In the guard-room, sir.

Burgoyne goes out with a haste that sets the officers exchanging looks.

SWINDON (to Christy). Do you know Anthony Anderson, the Presbyterian
minister?

CHRISTY. Of course I do. (Implying that Swindon must be an ass not to
know it.)

SWINDON. Is he here?

CHRISTY (staring round). I don't know.

SWINDON. Do you see him?

CHRISTY. No.

SWINDON. You seem to know the prisoner?

CHRISTY. Do you mean Dick?

SWINDON. Which is Dick?

CHRISTY (pointing to Richard). Him.

SWINDON. What is his name?

CHRISTY. Dick.

RICHARD. Answer properly, you jumping jackass. What do they know about
Dick?

CHRISTY. Well, you are Dick, ain't you? What am I to say?

SWINDON. Address me, sir; and do you, prisoner, be silent. Tell us who
the prisoner is.

CHRISTY. He's my brother Dudgeon.

SWINDON. Your brother!

CHRISTY. Yes.

SWINDON. You are sure he is not Anderson.

CHRISTY. Who?

RICHARD (exasperatedly). Me, me, me, you--

SWINDON. Silence, sir.

SERGEANT (shouting). Silence.

RICHARD (impatiently). Yah! (To Christy) He wants to know am I Minister
Anderson. Tell him, and stop grinning like a zany.

CHRISTY (grinning more than ever). YOU Pastor Anderson! (To Swindon)
Why, Mr. Anderson's a minister---a very good man; and Dick's a bad
character: the respectable people won't speak to him. He's the bad
brother: I'm the good one, (The officers laugh outright. The soldiers
grin.)

SWINDON. Who arrested this man?

SERGEANT. I did, sir. I found him in the minister's house, sitting at
tea with the lady with his coat off, quite at home. If he isn't married
to her, he ought to be.

SWINDON. Did he answer to the minister's name?

SERGEANT. Yes sir, but not to a minister's nature. You ask the
chaplain, sir.

SWINDON (to Richard, threateningly). So, sir, you have attempted to
cheat us. And your name is Richard Dudgeon?

RICHARD. You've found it out at last, have you?

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