M'Closky. Would you rob me first, and murder me afterwards?
Ratts. [Searching him.] That's his programme—here's a pocket-book.
Scud. [Opens it.] What's here? Letters! Hello! To "Mrs. Peyton, Terrebonne, Louisiana, United States." Liverpool post mark. Ho! I've got hold of the tail of a rat—come out. [Reads.] What's this? A draft for eighty-five thousand dollars, and credit on Palisse and Co., of New Orleans, for the balance. Hi! the rat's out. You killed the boy to steal this letter from the mail-bags—you stole this letter, that the money should not arrive in time to save the Octoroon; had it done so, the lien on the estate would have ceased, and Zoe be free.
Omnes. Lynch him! Lynch him! Down with him!
Scud. Silence in the court; stand back, let the gentlemen of the jury retire, consult, and return their verdict.
Ratts. I'm responsible for the crittur—go on.
Pete. [To Wahnotee.] See Injiun; look dar [shows him plate], see dat innocent: look, dar's de murderer of poor Paul.
Wahnotee. Ugh! [Examines plate.]
Pete. Ya!—as he? Closky tue Paul—kill de child with your tomahawk dar; 'twasn't you, no—ole Pete allus say so. Poor Injiun lub our little Paul. [Wahnotee rises and looks at M'Closky—he is in his war paint and fully armed.]
Scud. What say ye, gentlemen? Is the prisoner guilty, or is he not guilty?