He’ll give me till to-morrow to replace them, but I can’t. It’s impossible. And he knows I can’t. Damned hypocrite! I shouldn’t complain if I’d been beaten fairly; but it’s so childish. And just when I’d got the reins in my hand. He can’t countenance dishonesty. It’s childish. I always distrusted him. Sanctimonious prig! He’s jealous of me. He wants to kick me off my perch, so that he can take my place. And I know him. I know him inside out. He’ll do what he says. [_With angry scorn._] It’s his duty. CATHERINE. Can’t we sell things? There’s my jewellery. GEORGE WINTER. A drop in the ocean. How can I get eighty thousand pounds in a falling market. CATHERINE. [_Horrified._] D’you mean to say they’ll arrest you? GEORGE WINTER. [_With a dull roar, like a wild beast at bay._] No. D’you think I’m going to stand that, and a trial, and--and all the rest? CATHERINE. [_Wringing her hands._] Is there no chance that you may get off? GEORGE WINTER. Bennett would give me away to save himself. I know him. There’s not a man I can trust. The only thing’s to have done with it at once. I must get out of it while I have the chance. CATHERINE. D’you think there’s any hope of your getting away? GEORGE WINTER. My way. Yes. CATHERINE. [_Understanding._] Oh, George, you wouldn’t do that. GEORGE WINTER. What else d’you expect me to do? D’you think I’m going to bolt to America, to be brought back in six months by a couple of detectives? Not much. CATHERINE. Wouldn’t it be better to stay and face it? If you’ve done wrong, can’t you accept your punishment? You’re young still. GEORGE WINTER. They won’t have mercy on me. It’ll mean ten years. And when I come out, it’ll mean hiding, doing odd jobs, like Bennett, dirty work for other men who won’t risk their own skins. And what d’you suppose a life like that is worth to me? I want the power, and the notoriety, and the glamour. I wanted men to point me out in the street. I’ve aimed too high to be content with anything but the highest. CATHERINE. Oh, it’s horrible. GEORGE WINTER. Come, Kate--honestly--if you loved me, wouldn’t you wish me to make an end of it? CATHERINE. [_After a long look at him._] Oh, don’t ask me. GEORGE WINTER. Will you do something for me? It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask you. CATHERINE. I’ll do anything I can. GEORGE WINTER. I want half an hour to myself. You must let no one come to me under any pretext whatever. CATHERINE. [_With a cry of horror._] You’re not going to do it now? GEORGE WINTER. I don’t trust James Ford. He may have gone to Scotland Yard already. Perhaps the detectives are already on their way. CATHERINE. You’ve said yourself that he’s to be relied on. GEORGE WINTER. Oh, I’m frightened. And what’s the good? I’m dead beat. Perhaps to-morrow I shouldn’t have the nerve. CATHERINE. Oh, it’s awful. GEORGE WINTER. [_With a laugh._] Why, it’s your freedom. [_He goes to the table and pours himself out a glass of brandy._ GEORGE WINTER.