ep that. I've taken 25
dollars.

JUDITH. Have you forgotten even that you are a minister?

ANDERSON. Minister be--faugh! My hat: where's my hat? (He snatches up
hat and cloak, and puts both on in hot haste.) Now listen, you. If you
can get a word with him by pretending you're his wife, tell him to hold
his tongue until morning: that will give me all the start I need.

JUDITH (solemnly). You may depend on him to the death.

ANDERSON. You're a fool, a fool, Judith (for a moment checking the
torrent of his haste, and speaking with something of his old quiet and
impressive conviction). You don't know the man you're married to.
(Essie returns. He swoops at her at once.) Well: is the horse ready?

ESSIE (breathless). It will be ready when you come.

ANDERSON. Good. (He makes for the door.)

JUDITH (rising and stretching out her arms after him involuntarily).
Won't you say goodbye?

ANDERSON. And waste another half minute! Psha! (He rushes out like an
avalanche.)

ESSIE (hurrying to Judith). He has gone to save Richard, hasn't he?

JUDITH. To save Richard! No: Richard has saved him. He has gone to save
himself. Richard must die.

Essie screams with terror and falls on her knees, hiding her face.
Judith, without heeding her, looks rigidly straight in front of her, at
the vision of Richard, dying.

ACT III

Early next morning the sergeant, at the British headquarters in the
Town Hall, unlocks the door of a little empty panelled waiting room,
and invites Judith to enter. She has had a bad night, probably a rather
delirious one; for even in the reality of the raw morning, her fixed
gaze comes back at moments when her attention is not strongly held.

The sergeant considers that her feelings do her credit, and is
sympathetic in an encouraging military way. Being a fine figure of a
man, vain of his uniform and of his rank, he feels specially qualified,
in a respectful way, to console her.

SERGEANT. You can have a quiet word with him here, mum.

JUDITH. Shall I have long to wait?

SERGEANT. No, mum, not a minute. We kep him in the Bridewell for the
night; and he's just been brought over here for the court martial.
Don't fret, mum: he slep like a child, and has made a rare good
breakfast.

JUDITH (incredulously). He is in good spirits!

SERGEANT. Tip top, mum. The chaplain looked in to see him last night;
and he won seventeen shillings off him at spoil five. He spent it among
us like the gentleman he is. D