uty's duty, mum, of course; but you're
among friends here. (The tramp of a couple of soldiers is heard
approaching.) There: I think he's coming. (Richard comes in, without a
sign of care or captivity in his bearing. The sergeant nods to the two
soldiers, and shows them the key of the room in his hand. They
withdraw.) Your good lady, sir.

RICHARD (going to her). What! My wife. My adored one. (He takes her
hand and kisses it with a perverse, raffish gallantry.) How long do
you allow a brokenhearted husband for leave-taking, Sergeant?

SERGEANT. As long as we can, sir. We shall not disturb you till the
court sits.

RICHARD. But it has struck the hour.

SERGEANT. So it has, sir; but there's a delay. General Burgoyne's just
arrived--Gentlemanly Johnny we call him, sir--and he won't have done
finding fault with everything this side of half past. I know him, sir:
I served with him in Portugal. You may count on twenty minutes, sir;
and by your leave I won't waste any more of them. (He goes out, locking
the door. Richard immediately drops his raffish manner and turns to
Judith with considerate sincerity.)

RICHARD. Mrs. Anderson: this visit is very kind of you. And how are you
after last night? I had to leave you before you recovered; but I sent
word to Essie to go and look after you. Did she understand the message?

JUDITH (breathless and urgent). Oh, don't think of me: I haven't come
here to talk about myself. Are they going to--to-- (meaning "to hang
you")?

RICHARD (whimsically). At noon, punctually. At least, that was when
they disposed of Uncle Peter. (She shudders.) Is your husband safe? Is
he on the wing?

JUDITH. He is no longer my husband.

RICHARD (opening his eyes wide). Eh!

JUDITH. I disobeyed you. I told him everything. I expected him to come
here and save you. I wanted him to come here and save you. He ran away
instead.

RICHARD. Well, that's what I meant him to do. What good would his
staying have done? They'd only have hanged us both.

JUDITH (with reproachful earnestness). Richard Dudgeon: on your honour,
what would you have done in his place?

RICHARD. Exactly what he has done, of course.

JUDITH. Oh, why will you not be simple with me--honest and
straightforward? If you are so selfish as that, why did you let them
take you last night?

RICHARD (gaily). Upon my life, Mrs. Anderson, I don't know. I've been
asking myself that question ever since; and I can find no manner of
reason for act