END OF ACT II.
[ACT III.—SCENE I.]
A meanly furnished room; a door in the flat R. H.; in the second entrance L. H. a door bolted; the window shutters of the room are put up. Table and chairs, two candles burning. A knock heard at L. H. D.; after a pause, CODDLE peeps out of the door in flat.
Cod. Who can that be? I told the woman of the house on no account to admit a soul, or to tell any one who had taken her rooms; but if she should be obliged to confess, to give out that a half-crazy gentleman occupies them, who will not allow a creature to approach him but herself. I think I am safe here, nobody knows me; I’ve changed my name, I have paid a month’s rent in advance, have closed and fastened the shutters and door, and intend to live in future by candle-light; so here I am alone—(Sitting in a chair.)—with two wives claiming me, yet alone, that’s something. What a night I have passed! One minute trembling with apprehension, the next with cold; the loose windows rattling all night like the chains of a sleepless felon—nothing but draughts all over the room, and a corner house too, its edges worn away by the wind constantly whistling round it—ugh!—(Shuddering—A knocking heard L. H. D.)—It must have been the landlady that knocked; she thought I was asleep, no doubt, so wouldn’t disturb me; how cold I am, there is a terrible wind somewhere. This is the most miserable place I ever was in, in my life; where can that rush of air come from? I must find out, here’s my tow—(going to table.)—with this and a skewer, I can stop every crevice.—(He goes round the room with a lighted candle; he holds it before a crevice in the flat; the flame of the candle waves.)—Ah, here’s the place—a thorough draught, enough to kill me.—(The candle goes out.)—It has blown the candle out; what a horrid place!—(He hammers some tow into the crevice; while thus employed, a knocking is again heard at the L. H. D. CODDLE starts, the hammer falls from his hand.)—Who’s there? ’tis the foot-step of a man, it is not the landlady;—(he creeps to the L. H. D. and listens)—officers of justice, perhaps, who have dogged me here,—hush!—(Listens again—A loud knock makes him start away from the door.)—Shall I answer? I will—I must—this suspense will drive me mad—who—who’s there?
Lynx. (Without.)—My dear fellow, open the door.
Cod. Oh, it’s my excellent friend Lynx.—(he runs to the door and unbolts it.)—Come in, come in; quick, quick.—(LYNX enters; CODDLE immediately closes the door again and bolts it.)—Now what’s the matter? how did you find me out? what brought you here? any of the police after me? any warrant granted? Speak, speak.
Lynx. No, no, calm your fears.
Cod. Was it you that knocked at the door, a few minutes ago?
Lynx. Yes, yes, and I thought you were dead, as I could get no reply; you are as difficult to come at as a grand sultan.
Cod. I am a grand sultan, I rejoice in a plurality of wives. Oh, that Turkey, what a blessed country! where bigamy is a virtue, and a man’s consequences is rated not by the number of voices he can command in a parliament, but by the number of wives he can command at home. But tell me, how did you discover my retreat?