RAT. Pray think again, my dear madam, as it would be really a pity to damage so elegant a piece of furniture.
POS. No—he’s a smasher! It’s lucky for him I can’t get at him.
MRS. S. (suddenly, and with resolution) Sir, although alone, and in the power of a desperate man like you, I will not be plundered except by violence.
POS. That’s right, cousin—stick to that! She’s a trump!
RAT. (approaching her as she leans against table in C., and in a tone of reproach) Violence to a woman, and such a woman! (bowing)
POS. Humbug!
RAT. I see you mistake me, madam, I came here to serve you—to propose to you a safe and profitable investment for your money, but the moment you object to that proposal—— (taking one of the pistols off the table and playing with it)
POS. What’s that he’s got in his hand? (RATCLIFFE cocks the pistol, the noise of which is distinctly heard) It’s a blunderbuss! (disappears like lightning, then cautiously appears again)
MRS. S. (shuddering and sinking into a chair) You will find the key—in that vase—on the mantel-piece.
RAT. That vase, madam? (pointing with his pistol towards mantel-piece in the direction of POSTLETHWAITE, who again disappears like a shot; RATCLIFFE goes to the mantel-piece, upon which he deposits his pistols—then takes key out of the vase, and goes to the writing desk: during this POSTLETHWAITE re-appears cautiously, sees the pistols, and by leaning very much out of little window, tries to reach them—almost falling out—disappears; re-appears with the tongs, and again tries to reach the pistols) Ah! here is a drawer that requires some force to open, doubtless it contains the—— (opening drawer) No, your diamonds. Ah, madam, I can trace the amiability of your disposition even in your treatment of these poor jewels—you cease to wear them because their beauty would be eclipsed by yours. (replacing diamonds in desk)