--Now--- (A silence.) Now then, Barlow, will you answer, or
won't you? (Silence.)
ANABEL. Answer them, Gerald--never mind.
VOICES. Sh-h-h! Sh-h-h! (Silence.)
JOB ARTHUR. You won't answer, Barlow?
VOICE. Down the beggar!
VOICES. Down him--put his nose down--flatten him!
(The crowd surges and begins to howl--they sway dangerously--GERALD
is spread-eagled on the floor, face down.)
JOB ARTHUR. Back--back--back a minute--back--back! (They recoil.)
WILLIE. I HOPE there's a God in heaven.
VOICES. Put him down--flatten him!
(WILLIE is flattened on the ground.)
JOB ARTHUR. Now, then--now then--if you won't answer, Barlow, I
can't stand here for you any more.--Take your feet off him, boys,
and turn him over--let us look at him. Let us see if he CAN speak.
(They turn him over, with another scuffle.) Now then, Barlow--you
can see the sky above you. Now do you think you're going to play
with three thousand men, with their lives and with their souls?--
now do you think you're going to answer them with your foot?--do
you--do you?
(The crowd has begun to sway and heave dangerously, with a low,
muffled roar, above which is heard JOB ARTHUR'S voice. As he
ceases, the roar breaks into a yell--the crowd heaves.)
VOICES. Down him--crack the vermin--on top of him--put your foot on
the vermin!
ANABEL (with a loud, piercing cry, suddenly starting up).
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