MAYOR. Be careful. Will you swear to that?
MOON. [With that sudden uncertainty which comes over the most honest in
such circumstances] Not--not so to speak in black and white, Your
Worship; but that was my idea at the time.
MAYOR. You won't swear to it?
MOON. I'll swear he called me an idiot and a lout; the words made a deep
impression on me.
CHANTREY. [To himself] Mort aux vaches!
MAYOR. Eh? That'll do, constable; stand back. Now, who else saw the
struggle? Mrs Builder. You're not obliged to say anything unless you
like. That's your privilege as his wife.
While he is speaking the door has been opened, and HARRIS has gone
swiftly to it, spoken to someone and returned. He leans forward to
the MAYOR.
Eh? Wait a minute. Mrs Builder, do you wish to give evidence?
MRS BUILDER. [Rising] No, Mr Mayor.
MRS BUILDER Sits.
MAYOR. Very good. [To HARRIS] Now then, what is it?
HARRIS says something in a low and concerned voice. The MAYOR'S face
lengthens. He leans to his right and consults CHANTREY, who gives a
faint and deprecating shrug. A moment's silence.
MAYOR. This is an open Court. The Press have the right to attend if
they wish.
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