Weasel. To the churchyard, I thinks.
Col. The churchyard!
Weasel. Why, your honour, they certainly did not go into the kitchen, and the back-door leads straight across the yard to the Church, and the vault would be no bad hiding-place, your honour. Miss Ratty has hid there herself, I knows, when the dentist was here.
Col. Have you no other clue? What an extraordinary affair!
Weasel. Why, Sir—your honour, last night Mrs. Marjory overheard Miss Ratty whispering Miss Sophy, and she said, Sir....
Col. What? speak out!
Weasel. ‘As long as the Colonel remains here the Prince must keep concealed.’
Col. [Springing up.] The Prince! ha, ha! I smell a rat! the Pretender! the Pretender! if there was ever such luck, such fortune! Hang me if I could not—but there’s not an instant to be lost. Fly, Weasel, to the village. Bid Corporal Catchup and a dozen stout fellows be with me directly. Fly, I say, and if it be all as I hope, I’ll cram you with gold till you choke. Begone! Fly! [Exit Weasel.] Thirty thousand pounds and a baronetship! Sir Stephen Stumply! Ah, if that wayward boy—the Pretender! the Pretender! he’s in a net, in a net, and I’ll be hanged if I let him out of it. [Exit.]
SCENE II.
THE DRAWING-ROOM.
Enter Horatia.