Roger. You would buy my silence, sir, as you thought you did that of your accomplice. You, deeply scarred as you are by depravity and guilt, dare to make me such an offer? No; a thousand times, no. You will meet your deserts. For myself, time will prove my innocence.
New. Will it, indeed? You overrate your ability. I hold you in my power.
Bijah (comes forward). And I hold you in mine.
Roger. Bijah!
New. Bright, the bank's private detective!
Bijah. Exactly so. Mr. Newcomb, I am afraid your nice little scheme will be “smashed to smithereens,” for it's my turn to play my hand. You forget that, as private detective, it was my duty to shadow every one (New. starts),—even your Royal Highness; and you can jest bet your life, I did my duty.
Roger. What is it? Have you any proofs?
Bijah. Proofs? Yes; that Roger Carruth is innocent of forgery, and that Mr. Randolph Newcomb has that honor.
Roger. Newcomb!
New. Man, it is false.