Keep quiet.
WILLIE. Of all the damned, cowardly---
VOICES. Sh-h-h!--Squeeze him--throttle him! Silence is golden,
Houghton.--Close the shutters, Willie's dead.--Dry up, wet whiskers!
JOB ARTHUR. You've fifteen seconds.
VOICES. There's a long, long trail a-winding---
JOB ARTHUR. The minute's up.--We ask you again, Gerald Barlow, why
you refused a just and fair demand, when you know it was against the
wishes of three thousand men all as good as yourself.
VOICES. And a sight better--I don't think--we're not all vermin--
we're not all crawlers, living off the sweat of other folks--we're
not all parish vermin--parish vermin.
JOB ARTHUR. And on what grounds do you think you have no occasion to
answer the straightforward question we put you here?
ANABEL (after a pause). Answer them, Gerald. What's the use of
prolonging this?
GERALD. I've nothing to answer.
VOICES. Nothing to answer--Gerald, darling--Gerald, duckie--oh,
lovey-dovey--I've nothing to answer--no, by God--no, by God, he
hasna--nowt to answer--ma'e him find summat, then--answer for him--
gi'e him's answer--let him ha'e it--go on--mum--mum--lovey-dovey--
rub his nose in it--kiss the dirt, ducky--bend him down--rub his
nose in--he's saying something--oh, no, he isn't--sorry I spoke--
bend him down!
JOB ARTHUR. Quiet a bit--quiet everybody--he's got to answer--keep
quiet.
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