RICHARD. Then you may depend on him.

BURGOYNE. Thank you, Mr.--'m Dudgeon. By the way, since you are
not Mr. Anderson, do we still--eh, Major Swindon? (meaning "do we
still hang him?")

RICHARD. The arrangements are unaltered, General.

BURGOYNE. Ah, indeed. I am sorry. Good morning, Mr. Dudgeon. Good
morning, madam.

RICHARD (interrupting Judith almost fiercely as she is about to
make some wild appeal, and taking her arm resolutely). Not one
word more. Come.

She looks imploringly at him, but is overborne by his
determination. They are marched out by the four soldiers: the
sergeant, very sulky, walking between Swindon and Richard, whom
he watches as if he were a dangerous animal.

BURGOYNE. Gentlemen: we need not detain you. Major Swindon: a
word with you. (The officers go out. Burgoyne waits with
unruffled serenity until the last of them disappears. Then he
becomes very grave, and addresses Swindon for the first time
without his title.) Swindon: do you know what this is (showing
him the letter)?

SWINDON. What?

BURGOYNE. A demand for a safe-conduct for an officer of their