table;_ HECTOR _seizes them and pushes them in front of_ WALTER.
BETTY _slinks to the other side of the room, and stands by the
sofa._

HECTOR. [_To_ WALTER.] Now you write. You hear? You write what I dictate.
Word for word. What's the old brute's name?

WALTER. Whose?

HECTOR. Whose! Her father, the sealing-wax man, old Gillingham?

WALTER. [_Staring._] Gillingham?

HECTOR. Gillingham. Yes. What is it?

WALTER. You want me to write to him?

HECTOR. [_Nodding._] To him. Who else? A confession? I've had that. His
name?

WALTER. [_Dropping the pen and half rising._] I won't--

HECTOR. [_Springing upon him in a mad fury, and forcing him back into the
chair._] You won't, you dog! You dare say that--to me! By Heaven, you
will! You'll lick the dust off this floor, if I tell you! You'll go on
your hands and knees, and crawl! Sit down, you! Sit down and take up your
filthy pen. So. [_Thoroughly cowed,_ WALTER _has taken up the pen again._]
And now--his name. Don't make me ask you again, I tell you, don't. What is
it?