RANDALL [who has relaxed his vigilance on seeing the burglar so pacifically disposed, and comes forward swinging the poker between his fingers like a well folded umbrella]. It is neither just nor right that we should be put to a lot of inconvenience to gratify your moral enthusiasm, my friend. You had better get out, while you have the chance. THE BURGLAR [inexorably]. No. I must work my sin off my conscience. This has come as a sort of call to me. Let me spend the rest of my life repenting in a cell. I shall have my reward above. MANGAN [exasperated]. The very burglars can't behave naturally in this house. HECTOR. My good sir, you must work out your salvation at somebody else's expense. Nobody here is going to charge you. THE BURGLAR. Oh, you won't charge me, won't you? HECTOR. No. I'm sorry to be inhospitable; but will you kindly leave the house? THE BURGLAR. Right. I'll go to the police station and give myself up. [He turns resolutely to the door: but Hector stops him]. HECTOR. { Oh, no. You mustn't do that. RANDALL. [speaking together] { No no. Clear out man, can't you; and don't be a fool. MRS. HUSHABYE { Don't be so silly. Can't you repent at home? LADY UTTERWORD. You will have to do as you are told. THE BURGLAR. It's compounding a felony, you know. MRS HUSHABYE. This is utterly ridiculous. Are we to be forced to prosecute this man when we don't want to? THE BURGLAR. Am I to be robbed of my salvation to save you the trouble of spending a day at the sessions? Is that justice? Is it right? Is it fair to me? MAZZINI [rising and leaning across the table persuasively as if it were a pulpit desk or a shop counter]. Come, come! let me show you how you can turn your very crimes to account. Why not set up as a locksmith? You must know more about locks than most honest men? THE BURGLAR. That's true, sir. But I couldn't set up as a locksmith under twenty pounds. RANDALL. Well, you can easily steal twenty pounds. You will find it in the nearest bank. THE BURGLAR [horrified]. Oh, what a thing for a gentleman to put into the head of a poor criminal scrambling out of the bottomless pit as it were! Oh, shame on you, sir! Oh, God forgive you! [He throws himself into the big chair and covers his face as if in prayer]. LADY UTTERWORD. Really, Randall! HECTOR. It seems to me that we shall have to take up a collection for this inopportunely contrite sinner. LADY UTTERWORD. But twenty pounds is ridiculous. THE BURGLAR [looking up quickly]. I shall have to buy a lot of tools, lady. LADY UTTERWORD. Nonsense: you have your burgling kit. THE BURGLAR. What's a jimmy and a centrebit and an acetylene welding plant and a bunch of skeleton keys? I shall want a forge, and a smithy, and a shop, and fittings. I can't hardly do it for twenty. HECTOR. My worthy friend, we haven't got twenty pounds.