Concho. He will of course deny. He is a desperate man: he will perhaps attack me. Eh! Ah! (Drawing revolver.)
Don Jose. Put up your foolish weapon. The sight of the father he has deceived will be more terrible to him than the pistol of the spy.
Enter COL. STARBOTTLE, C.
Starbottle. Mr. Alexander Morton, Jun., will be with you in a moment. (Takes attitude by door, puts his hand in his breast, and inflates himself.)
Concho (to DON JOSE, aside). It is the bullying lawyer. They will try to outface us, my patron; but we shall triumph. (Aloud.) He comes, eh!—Mr. Alexander Morton, gentlemen! I will show you a cheat, an impostor!
Enter, in correct, precise morning dress, SANDY MORTON. There is in his make-up and manner a suggestion of the father.
Concho (recoiling, aside). Diego! The real son. (Aloud, furiously.) It is a trick to defeat justice,—eh!—a miserable trick! But it shall fail, it shall fail!
Col. Starbottle. Permit me, a moment,—a single moment. (To Concho.) You have—er—er—characterized my introduction of this—er—gentleman as a "cheat" and an "imposture." Are you prepared to deny that this is Alexander Morton?
Don Jose (astonished, aside). These Americanos are of the Devil! (Aloud and sternly.) Answer him, Concho, I command you.
Concho (in half-insane rage). It is Alexander Morton; but it is a trick,—a cowardly trick! Where is the other impostor, this Mr. John Oakhurst?