Joe: You reckon Ah kin come out now? (as Porter does not answer, he crawls out with burlesque terror. Silence; then faint strains of soft music, and the light changes to pale violet)
Margaret (enters in dreamlike fashion at right, clad as in Act I, and carrying her dolly): Oh, Papa, such a lovely dolly!
Porter (tenderly): You got her in time for Christmas, sweetheart?
Margaret: Oh, yes, Papa! Oh, Papa, I’m having such a nice Christmas! So many lovely presents! But your dolly is the nicest of all! When you lay her down she shuts her eyes, like she was really asleep, and when you squeeze her she says “Mamma!” Try it, Papa. (Porter takes dolly and squeezes her and the sound is heard)
Joe (has been making pantomime of sympathy. Now he gives a warning cry): Look, out, Misteh Porteh! (the character of the music changes, the light changes to dark red, and three immense prison guards enter, armed with heavy paddles, and creep upon Porter)
Margaret (as they seize Porter, screams in fright): Papa! Papa!
(One of the guards seizes Margaret and carries her off right, crying. The other two seize Porter and throw him down and bind him to the floor. Joe makes pantomime of impotent despair. The guards take the paddles and proceed to beat Porter. At the first blows the light begins to fade, and after two or three blows the scene is in total darkness. The sounds of the blows increase to heavy crashings, and Porter’s moans rise to a general wailing and shouting, which cover a quick change to the scene of the feast in the prison postoffice. When the change has been completed, the sounds die away, and white light breaks gradually upon the scene, revealing general disorder and wreck. Delacour is asleep in his chair, his head thrown back and his mouth open. The Judge has slid under the table. Jennings and Valentine sleep with their heads bowed on the table. Raidler has had his chair upset and is asleep on the floor. Joe lies on the floor at one side, flat on his back. Porter sits leaning on the table staring before him, brooding. It is Christmas morning, and off-stage there arises the sound of fresh young voices singing a Christmas carol)
It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth