Sandy (passionately seizing OLD MORTON'S arm). Yes, Diego—Sandy—the outcast—but, God help me! no longer the drunkard. I forbid you to touch that glass!—I, your son, Alexander Morton! Yes, look at me, father: I, with drunkenness in my blood, planted by you, fostered by you—I whom you sought to save—I—I stand here to save you! Go! (To SERVANT.) Go! While he is thus, I—I, am master here!
Old Morton (cowed and frightened). That voice! (Passing his hand over his forehead.) Am I dreaming Aleck, where are you? Alexander, speak, I command you: is this the truth?
Oakhurst (slowly). It is!
Starbottle. One moment—a single moment: permit me to—er—er—explain. The gentleman who has just—er—dismissed the refreshment is, to the best of my legal knowledge, your son. The gentleman who for the past year has so admirably filled the functions of that office is—er—prepared to admit this. The proofs are—er—conclusive. It is with the—er—intention of offering them, and—er—returning your lawful heir, that we—er—are here to-night.
Old Morton (rising to his feet). And renounce you both! Out of my house, out of my sight, out of my heart, forever! Go! liars, swindlers, confederates! Drunk—
Oakhurst (retiring slowly with SANDY). We are going, sir!
Old Morton. Go! open the doors there WIDE, wide enough for such a breadth of infamy! Do you hear me? I am master here!
Stands erect, as OAKHURST and SANDY, hand in hand, slowly retreat backward to centre,—then suddenly utters a cry, and falls heavily on sofa. Both pause: OAKHURST remains quiet and motionless; SANDY, after a moment's hesitation, rushes forward, and falls at his feet.
Sandy. Father, forgive me!
Old Morton (putting his hand round SANDY'S neck, and motioning him to door). Go! both of you, both of you! (Resisting SANDY'S attempt to rise.) Did you hear me? Go!