Potts. No, Roger, he is busily engaged. I've looked out for that.
Roger. Good! Now, what is the wheel of fortune to bring me? Oh! (Crosses Dor.'s palm with silver.) I remember, no golden treasure disclosed, unless the key be silver.
Dor. (taking Roger's hand; disguised voice). Young man, you have had serious trouble; some cloud hangs over you. You are suspected of some crime.
Roger (starting). What witchcraft is here?
Dor. But you are innocent. If you have patience, your name will soon be cleared.
Roger. I hope so with all my heart.
Dor. You have a good heart, and, let me see—yes—that line is crossed—you have given it to some one.
(Exeunt Polly and Bijah through trees, L.)
Potts (slapping Roger on back; laughs). You are hard hit, old man. Even the witches can read your heart.
Dor. (addressing Potts). Your time is coming, sir. “He laughs best who laughs last.”