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ery. Ye swore that nothing should be heard of this. Why! me own servants know. MRS. H. That has nothing to do with us. Your son came and wrenched the knowledge out of Mr. DAWKER by abuse and threats; that is all. You will kindly behave yourself here, or I shall ask that you be shown out. HORNBLOWER. Give me that deed, I say! [He suddenly turns on DAWKER] Ye little ruffian, I see it in your pocket. [The end indeed is projecting from DAWKER'S breast pocket.] DAWKER. [Seeing red] Now, look 'ere, 'Ornblower, I stood a deal from your son, and I'll stand no more. HORNBLOWER. [To MRS. HILLCRIST] I'll ruin your place yet! [To DAWKER] Ye give me that deed, or I'll throttle ye. [He closes on DAWKER, and makes a snatch at the deed. DAWKER, springs at him, and the two stand swaying, trying for a grip at each other's throats. MRS. HILLCRIST tries to cross and reach the bell, but is shut off by their swaying struggle.] [Suddenly ROLF appears in the window, looks wildly at the struggle, and seizes DAWKER'S hands, which have reached HORNBLOWER'S throat. JILL, who is following, rushes up to him and clutches his arm.] JILL. Rolf! All of you! Stop! Look! [DAWKER'S hand relaxes, and he is swung round. HORNBLOWER staggers and recovers himself, gasping for breath. All turn to the window, outside which in the moonlight HILLCRIST and CHARLES HORNBLOWER have CHLOE'S motionless body in their arms.] In the gravel pit. She's just breathing; that's all. MRS. H. Bring her in. The brandy, Jill! HORNBLOWER. No. Take her to the car. Stand back, young woman! I want no help from any of ye. Rolf--Chearlie--take her up. [They lift and bear her away, Left. JILL follows.] Hillcrist, ye've got me beaten and disgraced hereabouts, ye've destroyed my son's married life, and ye've killed my grandchild. I'm not staying in this cursed spot, but if ever I can do you or yours a hurt, I will. DAWKER. [Muttering] That's right. Squeal and threaten. You began it. HILLCRIST. Dawker, have the goodness! Hornblower, in the presence of what may be death, with all my heart I'm sorry. HORNBLOWER. Ye hypocrite! [He passes them with a certain dignity, and goes out at the window, following to his car.] [HILLCRIST who has stood for a moment stock-still, goes slowly forward and sits in his swivel chair.] MRS.
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