Get the Marshal.

Miss Shorty, come over here. Get out of here, you. No, something's wrong. When I lay my hand on you, you will walk… That sodden old bastard. Well, you ought to be. Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury… Every stitch. What the hell you talking about? Gracious my lord! Eddie, darling, let's go in there where… But I shall avert my eyes at the necessa… He might be dead, too. I'll keep her in my prayers, though, OK? You're bloody interrupting.