O’Fi. His name’s Tom Cobb. Tom Cobb, Mr. Bulstrode—and he’s a swindlin’ apothecary—the man you’ve been advertising for these six months.
[Caroline faints in Mr. and Mrs. Effingham’s arms.
Bul. Amazement!
Mr. Eff. Monster—once more behold your work!
Mrs. Eff. Viper! Creeping, crawling, unadulterated viper!
Tom. I am Tom Cobb, M.R.C.S.; there’s my card—“Tom Cobb, 6.” (Producing handkerchief.) Lead me away.
Bul. This is a day of great events. We have sought you everywhere for six months.
Tom. I know you have. Your advertisement has been the nightmare of my life.
Bul. Amazement! There was a nameless old man, who bore so strong a resemblance to you, that scoffers called him by your name. He died in squalor, barely six months since.