HECTOR. [_Turning fiercely and scowling at her._] If you speak to me I'll
brain you too. Just you go in there and fetch the things. D'you hear? Go.
[_She moves into the other room._ HECTOR _swings round to_ WALTER.] As for
you, you're a scoundrel. A rogue, a thief, a liar, a traitor. Of the very
worst kind, the blackest. Not an ordinary case of a husband and wife--I
trusted you--you were my best friend. You spawn, you thing of the gutter,
you foul-hearted, damnable slug!
[BETTY _comes back, dragging her feet, carrying paper and
envelopes and a stylograph--she puts them on the table._
HECTOR. Not that stylograph--that's mine--his dirty hands shan't touch
it--I could never use it again. Fetch _your_ pen--yours--you belong to
him, don't you? Go in and fetch it. D'you hear?
[BETTY _goes into the inner room again._
HECTOR. My wife. And you the man I've done more for than for any one else
in the world. The man I cared for, you low dog. Used my house--came here
because it was dull at the Club--and took my wife? I don't know why I
don't kill you. I've the right. But I won't. You shall pay for it, my fine
fellow--you are going to pay--now.
[BETTY _brings a pen and an inkstand; she places them on the
table;_ HECTOR _seizes them and pushes them in front of_ WALTER.
BETTY _slinks to the other side of the room, and stands by the
sofa._
HECTOR. [_To_ WALTER.] Now you write. You hear? You write what I dictate.
Word for word. What's the old brute's name?
WALTER. Whose?
HECTOR. Whose! Her father, the sealing-wax man, old Gillingham?
WALTER. [_Staring._] Gillingham?
HECTOR. Gillingham. Yes. What is it?
WALTER. You want me to write to him?
HECTOR. [_Nodding._] To him. Who else? A confession? I've had that. His
name?