Dean.—Still? It seems, my lady, that something has loomed up before your conscience that is not easily banished?
Ann.—Oh, nothing at all . . . only I can’t get it through my head . . . there must have been some carelessness somewhere.
Dean.—What sort of carelessness can’t you get through your head?
Julia.—There are things none of us can get through our heads. When was it that grandfather had his second stroke Was it not the moment brother-in-law announced . . .
Ann (Sharply).—Julia, don’t meddle.
John.—I pray you . . .
Julia (Continuing).—When he brought the official confirmation of Mr. Hans Karvan’s having been shot while fleeing from a Siberian prison!
John.—I broke the news as cautiously as I knew how.
Julia.—But if it was after that . . . after that that you wrote to your cousin, brother-in-law . . .
Hans.—Is this the order of events?
Dean.—From which it would seem that he knew Hans was still living while he was trying to convince his father that he was dead.
Hans (Catching John by the throat).—You coward! You intolerable villain! (Ann shrieks.)
Julia.—Oh, Mr. Karvan, surely you would not so far forget yourself.
John.—Let me go! Would you strangle me?
Dean.—Back, you madman!
Andrew (Re-entering, hastening to John’s assistance).—Mr. Hans! Mr. Hans! What on earth possesses you? Recall yourself! You cannot do this! This is the mayor!
Hans (Holding John until Julia puts her hand on his shoulder)—Andrew? You old dog!
Ann.—Dear God!
Dean.—No unncessary panic please.
Andrew.—I guess I am that, Mr. Hans. Only an old dog would have stood it around here as I have done. For forty years I have drudged around here. Choke me if you must choke somebody, but not the mayor!
John.—This to me! Me! It is me he would lay his hands on.
Julia.—You let yourself go pretty far, Mr. Hans.
Ann.—It is all your fault, Julia.
