Dilly. I have, I have! But you’re not eating.
Harry. Oh, yes, I am; for I am very hungry. Heaven bless you for your kindness to an old man (placing his hand on her head), and bless you for your trust in one who wanders through the earth with a blasted name.
Doctor. (Outside, R.) Dilly, Dilly, here, quick!
Dilly. The doctor calls me; I must go. Now make yourself comfortable; I’ll soon return. (Exit, R.)
Harry. My father’s voice!—sick, almost bereft of reason; and I cannot go to him. The sight of me might kill him. O false friend! the time will come, the time will come! Heaven send it soon, or my heart will break. (Sinks into chair R. of table, and buries his face in his hands. Enter Butts, C., very stealthily.)
Butts. Five thousand dollars! Now, who would imagine that mass of hair and old clothes was worth five thousand dollars? And yet it is. Once within the clutches of this limb of the law, I’m a rich man. Oh, ho, Butts, you’re a sharp one, you are! (Strikes his hand on table.) Wake up, you’re wanted. (Harry raises his head.) At last we meet.
Harry. Meet! Who are you?
Butts. Oh, you don’t know me! Well, that’s not singular; but I know you; I’ve had my eye on you: you’re a deep one, you are! But I’ve got you! California too hot, hey? Well, we’ll give you a warm corner here, John Robinson. Oh! I know you: you can’t humbug Butts. Suppose I should tell you just when you left California, John Robinson? how much money you took, John Robinson?—suppose I should lay my hand on your shoulder, John Robinson, and say you are my prisoner, John Robinson,—what would you say, John Robinson?
Harry. That, if you lay a finger on me (producing a pistol, and presenting it), I’ll blow what little brains you have into yonder lake.