The Devil's Disciple Part 17

JUDITH. Won't you bid me good-bye?

RICHARD (allowing her to take his hand). Oh good-bye, good-bye. Now go--go--quickly. (She clings to his hand--will not be put off with so cold a last farewell--at last, as he tries to disengage himself, throws herself on his breast in agony.)

SWINDON (angrily to the sergeant, who, alarmed at Judith's movement, has come from the back of the square to pull her back, and stopped irresolutely on finding that he is too late). How is this? Why is she inside the lines?

SERGEANT (guiltily). I dunno, sir. She's that artful can't keep her away.

BURGOYNE. You were bribed.

SERGEANT (protesting). No, Sir--

SWINDON (severely). Fall back. (He obeys.)

RICHARD (imploringly to those around him, and finally to Burgoyne, as the least stolid of them). Take her away. Do you think I want a woman near me now?

BURGOYNE (going to Judith and taking her hand). Here, madam: you had better keep inside the lines; but stand here behind us; and don't look.

Richard, with a great sobbing sigh of relief as she releases him and turns to Burgoyne, flies for refuge to the cart and mounts into it. The executioner takes off his coat and pinions him.

JUDITH (resisting Burgoyne quietly and drawing her hand away). No: I must stay. I won't look. (She goes to the right of the gallows. She tries to look at Richard, but turns away with a frightful shudder, and falls on her knees in prayer. Brudenell comes towards her from the back of the square.)

BURGOYNE (nodding approvingly as she kneels). Ah, quite so. Do not disturb her, Mr. Brudenell: that will do very nicely. (Brudenell nods also, and withdraws a little, watching her sympathetically. Burgoyne resumes his former position, and takes out a handsome gold chronometer.) Now then, are those preparations made? We must not detain Mr. Dudgeon.

By this time Richard's hands are bound behind him; and the noose is round his neck. The two soldiers take the shaft of the wagon, ready to pull it away. The executioner, standing in the cart behind Richard, makes a sign to the sergeant.

SERGEANT (to Burgoyne). Ready, sir.

BURGOYNE. Have you anything more to say, Mr. Dudgeon? It wants two minutes of twelve still.

RICHARD (in the strong voice of a man who has conquered the bitterness of death). Your watch is two minutes slow by the town clock, which I can see from here, General. (The town clock strikes the first stroke of twelve. Involuntarily the people flinch at the sound, and a subdued groan breaks from them.) Amen! my life for the world's future!

ANDERSON (shouting as he rushes into the market place). Amen; and stop the execution. (He bursts through the line of soldiers opposite Burgoyne, and rushes, panting, to the gallows.) I am Anthony Anderson, the man you want.

The crowd, intensely excited, listens with all its ears. Judith, half rising, stares at him; then lifts her hands like one whose dearest prayer has been granted.

SWINDON. Indeed. Then you are just in time to take your place on the gallows. Arrest him.

At a sign from the sergeant, two soldiers come forward to seize Anderson.

ANDERSON (thrusting a paper under Swindon's nose). There's my safe-conduct, sir.

SWINDON (taken aback). Safe-conduct! Are you--!

ANDERSON (emphatically). I am. (The two soldiers take him by the elbows.) Tell these men to take their hands off me.

SWINDON (to the men). Let him go.

SERGEANT. Fall back.

The two men return to their places. The townsfolk raise a cheer; and begin to exchange exultant looks, with a presentiment of triumph as they see their Pastor speaking with their enemies in the gate.

ANDERSON (exhaling a deep breath of relief, and dabbing his perspiring brow with his handkerchief). Thank G.o.d, I was in time!

BURGOYNE (calm as ever, and still watch in hand). Ample time, sir.

Plenty of time. I should never dream of hanging any gentleman by an American clock. (He puts up his watch.)

ANDERSON. Yes: we are some minutes ahead of you already, General. Now tell them to take the rope from the neck of that American citizen.

BURGOYNE (to the executioner in the cart--very politely). Kindly undo Mr. Dudgeon.

The executioner takes the rope from Richard's neck, unties his hands, and helps him on with his coat.

JUDITH (stealing timidly to Anderson). Tony.

ANDERSON (putting his arm round her shoulders and bantering her affectionately). Well what do you think of you husband, NOW, eh?--eh??--eh???

JUDITH. I am ashamed-- (She hides her face against his breast.)

BURGOYNE (to Swindon). You look disappointed, Major Swindon.

SWINDON. You look defeated, General Burgoyne.

BURGOYNE. I am, sir; and I am humane enough to be glad of it. (Richard jumps down from the cart, Brudenell offering his hand to help him, and runs to Anderson, whose left hand he shakes heartily, the right being occupied by Judith.) By the way, Mr. Anderson, I do not quite understand. The safe-conduct was for a commander of the militia. I understand you are a-- (he looks as pointedly as his good manners permit at the riding boots, the pistols, and Richard's coat, and adds) a clergyman.

ANDERSON (between Judith and Richard). Sir: it is in the hour of trial that a man finds his true profession. This foolish young man (placing his hand on Richard's shoulder) boasted himself the Devil's Disciple; but when the hour of trial came to him, he found that it was his destiny to suffer and be faithful to the death. I thought myself a decent minister of the gospel of peace; but when the hour of trial came to me, I found that it was my destiny to be a man of action and that my place was amid the thunder of the captains and the shouting. So I am starting life at fifty as Captain Anthony Anderson of the Springtown militia; and the Devil's Disciple here will start presently as the Reverend Richard Dudgeon, and wag his pow in my old pulpit, and give good advice to this silly sentimental little wife of mine (putting his other hand on her shoulder. She steals a glance at Richard to see how the prospect pleases him). Your mother told me, Richard, that I should never have chosen Judith if I'd been born for the ministry. I am afraid she was right; so, by your leave, you may keep my coat and I'll keep yours.

RICHARD. Minister--I should say Captain. I have behaved like a fool.

JUDITH. Like a hero.

RICHARD. Much the same thing, perhaps. (With some bitterness towards himself) But no: if I had been any good, I should have done for you what you did for me, instead of making a vain sacrifice.

ANDERSON. Not vain, my boy. It takes all sorts to make a world--saints as well as soldiers. (Turning to Burgoyne) And now, General, time presses; and America is in a hurry. Have you realized that though you may occupy towns and win battles, you cannot conquer a nation?

BURGOYNE. My good sir, without a Conquest you cannot have an aristocracy. Come and settle the matter at my quarters.

ANDERSON. At your service, sir. (To Richard) See Judith home for me, will you, my boy? (He hands her over to him.) Now General. (He goes busily up the market place towards the Town Hall, Leaving Judith and Richard together. Burgoyne follows him a step or two; then checks himself and turns to Richard.)

BURGOYNE. Oh, by the way, Mr. Dudgeon, I shall be glad to see you at lunch at half-past one. (He pauses a moment, and adds, with politely veiled slyness) Bring Mrs. Anderson, if she will be so good. (To Swindon, who is fuming) Take it quietly, Major Swindon: your friend the British soldier can stand up to anything except the British War Office.

(He follows Anderson.)

SERGEANT (to Swindon). What orders, sir?

SWINDON (savagely). Orders! What use are orders now? There's no army.

Back to quarters; and be d-- (He turns on his heel and goes.)

SERGEANT (pugnacious and patriotic, repudiating the idea of defeat).

'Tention. Now then: c.o.c.k up your chins, and show 'em you don't care a d.a.m.n for 'em. Slope arms! Fours! Wheel! Quick march!