_Fardy:_ Take it on yourself. _Hyacinth:_ I will if you’ll let me. _Fardy:_ Tell them you did it. _Hyacinth:_ I am going to do that. _Fardy:_ Tell them it was you got in at the window. _Hyacinth:_ I will! I will! _Fardy:_ Say it was you robbed the box. _Hyacinth:_ I’ll say it! I’ll say it! _Fardy:_ It being open! _Hyacinth:_ Let me tell, let me tell. _Fardy:_ Of all that was in it. _Hyacinth:_ I’ll tell them that. _Fardy:_ And gave it to me. _Hyacinth:_ (_Putting hand on his mouth and dragging him up._) Will you stop and let me speak? _Sergeant:_ We can’t be wasting time. Give him here to me. _Hyacinth:_ I can’t do that. He must be let alone. _Sergeant:_ (_Seizing him._) He’ll be let alone in the lock-up. _Hyacinth:_ He must not be brought there. _Sergeant:_ I’ll let no man get him off. _Hyacinth:_ I will get him off. _Sergeant:_ You will not! _Hyacinth:_ I will. _Sergeant:_ Do you think to buy him off? _Hyacinth:_ I will buy him off with my own confession. _Sergeant:_ And what will that be? _Hyacinth:_ It was I robbed the church. _Sergeant:_ That is likely indeed! _Hyacinth:_ Let him go, and take me. I tell you I did it. _Sergeant:_ It would take witnesses to prove that. _Hyacinth:_ (_Pointing to Fardy._) He will be witness. _Fardy:_ O! Mr. Halvey, I would not wish to do that. Get me off and I will say nothing. _Hyacinth:_ Sure you must. You will be put on oath in the court. _Fardy:_ I will not! I will not! All the world knows I don’t understand the nature of an oath! _Mr. Quirke:_ (_Coming forward._) Is it blind ye all are? _Mrs. Delane:_ What are you talking about? _Mr. Quirke:_ Is it fools ye all are? _Miss Joyce:_ Speak for yourself. _Mr. Quirke:_ Is it idiots ye all are? _Sergeant:_ Mind who you’re talking to. _Mr. Quirke:_ (_Seizing Hyacinth’s hands._) Can’t you see? Can’t you hear? Where are your wits? Was ever such a thing seen in this town? _Mrs. Delane:_ Say out what you have to say. _Mr. Quirke:_ A walking saint he is! _Mrs. Delane:_ Maybe so. _Mr. Quirke:_ The preserver of the poor! Talk of the holy martyrs! They are nothing at all to what he is! Will you look at him! To save that poor boy he is going! To take the blame on himself he is going! To say he himself did the robbery he is going! Before the magistrate he is going! To gaol he is going! Taking the blame on his own head! Putting the sin on his own shoulders! Letting on to have done a robbery! Telling a lie—that it may be forgiven him—to his own injury! Doing all that I tell you to save the character of a miserable slack lad, that rose in poverty. (_Murmur of admiration from all._) _Mr. Quirke:_ Now, what do you say? _Sergeant:_ (_Pressing his hand._) Mr. Halvey, you have given us all a lesson. To please you, I will make no information against the boy. (_Shakes him and helps him up._) I will put back the half-crown in the poor-box next Sunday. (_To Fardy._) What have you to say to your benefactor?