CATES

(Indecisive)

What do you think, Mr. Drummond?

DRUMMOND

I’m here. That tells you what I think. (He looks squarely at CATES) Well, what’s the verdict, Bert? You want to find yourself guilty before the jury does?

CATES

(Quietly, with determination)

No, sir. I’m not gonna quit.

RACHEL

(Protesting)

Bert!

CATES

It wouldn’t do any good now, anyhow. (He turns to RACHEL) If you’ll stick by me, Rache—well, we can fight it out.

(He smiles at her wanly. All the others have gone now, except MEEKER and DRUMMOND. RACHEL shakes her head, bewildered, tears forming in her eyes.)

RACHEL

I don’t know what to do; I don’t know what to do.

CATES

(Frowning)

What’s the matter, Rache?

RACHEL

I don’t want to do it, Bert; but Mr. Brady says—

DRUMMOND

What does Brady say?

RACHEL

(Looking down)

They want me to testify against Bert.

CATES

(Stunned)

You can’t!

MEEKER

I don’t mean to rush you, Bert; but we gotta close up the shop.

(CATES is genuinely panicked.)

CATES

Rache, some of the things I’ve talked to you about are things you just say to your own heart. (He starts to go with MEEKER, then turns back) If you get up on the stand and say those things out loud—(He shakes his head) Don’t you understand? The words I’ve said to you—softly, in the dark—just trying to figure out what the stars are for, or what might be on the back side of the moon—

MEEKER

Bert—

CATES

They were questions, Rache. I was just asking questions. If you repeat those things on the witness stand, Brady’ll make ’em sound like answers. And they’ll crucify me!

(CATES and MEEKER go off. The lights are slowly dimming. DRUMMOND puts on his coat, sizing up RACHEL as he does so. RACHEL, torn, is almost unconscious of his presence or of her surroundings.)

DRUMMOND

(Kindly, quietly)

What’s your name? Rachel what?

RACHEL

Rachel Brown. Can they make me testify?

DRUMMOND

I’m afraid so. It would be nice if nobody ever had to make anybody do anything. But—(He takes his brief case) Don’t let Brady scare you. He only seems to be bigger than the law.

RACHEL

It’s not Mr. Brady. It’s my father.

DRUMMOND

Who’s your father?

RACHEL

The Reverend Jeremiah Brown. (DRUMMOND whistles softly through his teeth) I remember feeling this way when I was a little girl. I would wake up at night, terrified of the dark. I’d think sometimes that my bed was on the ceiling, and the whole house was upside down; and if I didn’t hang onto the mattress, I might fall outward into the stars. (She shivers a little, remembering) I wanted to run to my father, and have him tell me I was safe, that everything was all right. But I was always more frightened of him than I was of falling. It’s the same way now.

DRUMMOND

(Softly)

Is your mother dead?

RACHEL

I never knew my mother. (Distraught) Is it true? Is Bert wicked?

DRUMMOND