Capper. What room is this? (At R.)
Old Morton. My son's: I would prefer—
Capper. And this? (At L.)
Old Morton. Mine, sir; if you choose—
Capper (locking door, and putting key in his pocket). This will do. Oblige me by making the necessary arrangements in your counting-room.
Old Morton (hesitating and aside). He is right: perhaps it is only prudence, and I am saving Alexander additional care and annoyance. [Exit.
Enter MR. SHADOW cautiously, C.
Shadow (in a lisping whisper to CAPPER). I've got the litht of the clerkth complete.
Capper (triumphantly). Put it in your pocket, Shadow. We don't care for the lackeys now: we are after the master.
Shadow. Eh! the mathter?