MRS. S. We have none.
POS. No police! (suddenly recollecting) but I have, of course, and a superintendent into the bargain—here—in my pocket.
MRS. S. You’ve got a superintendent of police in your pocket?
POS. Yes—no; but I’ve got his appointment—that’s the same thing, besides he’s a friend of mine; I’ll run for him this moment, and in less than ten minutes we’ll have him here dead or alive; I mean my friend—no—the robber—no, my friend. (running to door, L. C.) Holloa, this door’s locked (running to mantel-piece and about to ring the bell) and the bell rope’s cut (suddenly) ah! the ruffian has left his pistols behind him. (seizing pistols off the mantel-piece) Stand out of the way, cousin. (rushing to window)
MRS. S. What are you about to do?
POS. Do? send a bullet through his body.
MRS. S. Pshaw! Why you can’t even see him.
POS. Then I’m the more likely to hit him; besides, it will raise an alarm at all events. (pulling both triggers as he points the pistols out at window) Holloa they’re not loaded! (suddenly) Oh, if I had only known that. (about to get out at the window)
MRS. S. Cousin, what are you about?
POS. Why, as I can’t get out by the door, I must have recourse to the window. (getting out)