Two Men of Sandy Bar

ACT III

SCENE 1.—The bank parlor of Morton & Son, San Francisco. Room richly furnished; two square library desks, left and right. At right, safe in wall; at left, same with practicable doors. Folding door in flat C., leading to counting-room. Door in left to private room of ALEXANDER MORTON, sen.; door in right to private room of MORTON, jun. ALEXANDER MORTON, sen., discovered at desk R., opening and reading letters.

Morton, sen. (laying down letter). Well, well, the usual story; letters from all sorts of people, who have done or intend to do all sorts of things for my reclaimed prodigal. (Reads.) "Dear Sir: five years ago I loaned some money to a stranger who answers the description of your recovered son. He will remember Jim Parker,—Limping Jim, of Poker Flat. Being at present short of funds, please send twenty dollars, amount loaned, by return mail. If not convenient, five dollars will do as instalment." Pshaw! (Throws letter aside, and takes up another.) "Dear Sir: I invite your attention to enclosed circular for a proposed Home for Dissipated and Anonymous Gold-Miners. Your well-known reputation for liberality, and your late valuable experience in the reformation of your son, will naturally enlist your broadest sympathies. We enclose a draft for five thousand dollars, for your signature." We shall see! Another: "Dear Sir: the Society for the Formation of Bible Classes in the Upper Stanislaus acknowledge your recent munificent gift of five hundred dollars to the cause. Last Sabbath Brother Hawkins of Poker Flat related with touching effect the story of your prodigal to an assemblage of over two hundred miners. Owing to unusual expenses, we regret to be compelled to draw upon you for five hundred dollars more." So! (Putting down letter.) If we were given to pride and vainglory, we might well be puffed up with the fame of our works and the contagion of our example: yet I fear that, with the worldly-minded, this praise of charity to others is only the prayerful expectation of some personal application to the praiser. (Rings hand-bell.)

Enter JACKSON.

(To JACKSON.) File these letters (handing letters) with the others. There is no answer. Has young Mr. Alexander come in yet?

Jackson. He only left here an hour ago. It was steamer day yesterday: he was up all night, sir.

Old Morton (aside). True. And the night before he travelled all night, riding two hours ahead of one of our defaulting agents, and saved the bank a hundred thousand dollars. Certainly his devotion to business is unremitting. (Aloud.) Any news from Col. Starbottle?

Jackson. He left this note, sir, early this morning.

Old Morton (takes it, and reads). "I think I may say, on my own personal responsibility, that the mission is successful. Miss Morris will arrive to-night with a female attendant and child." (To JACKSON.) That is all, sir. Stop! Has any one been smoking here?

Jackson. Not to my knowledge, sir.

Old Morton. There was a flavor of stale tobacco smoke in the room this morning when I entered, and ashes on the carpet. I KNOW that young Mr. Alexander has abandoned the pernicious habit. See that it does not occur again.

Jackson. Yes, sir. (Aside.) I must warn Mr. Alexander that his friends must be more careful; and yet those ashes were good for a deposit of fifty thousand.

Old Morton. Is any one waiting?

Jackson. Yes, sir,—Don Jose Castro and Mr. Capper.

Old Morton. Show in the Don: the policeman can wait.

Jackson. Yes, sir. [Exit.

Old Morton (taking up STARBOTTLE'S note). "Miss Morris will arrive to-night." And yet he saw her only yesterday. This is not like her mother: no. She would never have forgiven and forgotten so quickly. Perhaps she knew not my sin and her mother's wrongs; perhaps she has—has—CHRISTIAN forgiveness (sarcastically); perhaps, like my prodigal, she will be immaculately perfect. Well, well: at least her presence will make my home less lonely. "An attendant and child." A child! Ah, if HE, my boy, my Alexander, were still a child, I might warm this cold, cold heart in his sunshine! Strange that I cannot reconstruct from this dutiful, submissive, obedient, industrious Alexander,—this redeemed outcast, this son who shares my life, my fortunes, my heart,—the foolish, wilful, thoughtless, idle boy, that once defied me. I remember (musing, with a smile) how the little rascal, ha, ha! once struck me,—STRUCK ME!—when I corrected him: ha, ha! (Rubbing his hands with amusement, and then suddenly becoming grave and lugubrious.) No, no. These are the whisperings of the flesh. Why should I find fault with him for being all that a righteous conversion demands,—all that I asked and prayed for? No, Alexander Morton: it is you, YOU, who are not yet regenerate. It is YOU who are ungrateful to Him who blessed you, to Him whose guiding hand led you to—

Enter JACKSON.

Jackson. Don Jose Castro.

Enter DON JOSE.

Don Jose. A thousand pardons, senor, for interrupting you in the hours of business; but it is—it is of business I would speak. (Looking around.)

Old Morton (to JACKSON). You can retire. (Exit JACKSON.) Be seated, Mr. Castro: I am at your service.

Don Jose. It is of your—your son—

Old Morton. Our firm is Morton & Son: in business we are one, Mr. Castro.

Don Jose. Bueno! Then to you as to him I will speak. Here is a letter I received yesterday. It has significance, importance perhaps. But, whatever it is, it is something for you, not me, to know. If I am wronged much, Don Alexandro, you, you, are wronged still more. Shall I read it? Good. (Reads.) "The man to whom you have affianced your daughter is not the son of Alexander Morton. Have a care. If I do not prove him an impostor at the end of six days, believe me one, and not your true friend and servant, Concho." In six days, Don Alexandro, the year of probation is over, and I have promised my daughter's hand to your son. (Hands letter to MORTON.)

Old Morton (ringing bell). Is that all, Mr. Castro?

Don Jose. All, Mr. Castro? Carramba! is it not enough?

Enter JACKSON.

Old Morton (to JACKSON). You have kept a record of this business during the last eighteen months. Look at this letter. (Handing letter.) Is the handwriting familiar?

Jackson (taking letter). Can't say, sir. The form is the old one.

Old Morton. How many such letters have you received?

Jackson. Four hundred and forty-one, sir. This is the four hundred and forty-second application for your son's position, sir.

Don Jose. Pardon. This is not an application: it is only information or caution.

Old Morton (to JACKSON). How many letters of information or caution have we received?

Jackson. This makes seven hundred and eighty-one, sir.

Old Morton. How, sir! (Quickly.) There were but seven hundred and seventy-nine last night.

Jackson. Beg pardon, sir! The gentleman who carried Mr. Alexander's valise from the boat was the seven hundred and eightieth.

Old Morton. Explain yourself, sir.

Jackson. He imparted to me, while receiving his stipend, the fact that he did not believe young Mr. Alexander was your son. An hour later, sir, he also imparted to me confidentially that he believed you were his father, and requested the loan of five dollars, to be repaid by you, to enable him to purchase a clean shirt, and appear before you in respectable condition. He waited for you an hour, and expressed some indignation that he had not an equal show with others to throw himself into your arms.

Don Jose (rising, aside, and uplifting his hands). Carramba! These Americanos are of the Devil! (Aloud.) Enough, Don Alexandro! Then you think this letter is only worth—

Old Morton. One moment. I can perhaps tell you exactly its market value. (To JACKSON.) Go on, sir.

Jackson. At half-past ten, sir, then being slightly under the influence of liquor, he accepted the price of a deck passage to Stockton.

Old Morton. How much was that, sir?

Jackson. Fifty cents.

Old Morton. Exactly so! There you have, sir (to DON JOSE), the market value of the information you have received. I would advise you, as a business matter, not to pay more. As a business matter, you can at any time draw upon us for the amount. (To JACKSON.) Admit Mr. Capper. [Exit JACKSON.

Don Jose (rising with dignity). This is an insult, Don Alexandro.

Old Morton. You are wrong, Mr. Castro: it is BUSINESS; sought, I believe, by yourself. Now that it is transacted, I beg you to dine with me to-morrow to meet my niece. No offence, sir, no offence. Come, come! Business, you know, business.

Don Jose (relaxing). Be it so! I will come. (Aside.) These Americanos, these Americanos, are of the Devil! (Aloud.) Adios. (Going.) I hear, by report, that you have met with the misfortune of a serious loss by robbery?

Old Morton (aside). So our mishap is known everywhere. (Aloud.) No serious misfortune, Mr. Castro, even if we do not recover the money. Adios.

[Exit Don Jose.

Old Morton. The stiff-necked Papist! That he should dare, for the sake of his black-browed, froward daughter, to—question the faith on which I have pinned my future! Well, with God's blessing, I gave him some wholesome discipline. If it were not for my covenant with Alexander—and nobly he has fulfilled his part,—I should forbid his alliance with the blood of this spying Jesuit.

Enter Mr. JACKSON, leading in CAPPER.

Jackson. Policeman, sir. [Exit.

Capper (turning sharply). Who's that man?

Old Morton. Jackson, clerk.

Capper. Umph! Been here long?

Old Morton. A year. He was appointed by my son.

Capper. Know anything of his previous life?

Old Morton (stiffly). I have already told you he is an appointee of my son's.

Capper. Yes! (Aside.) "Like master, like man." (Aloud.) Well, to business. We have worked up the robbery. We have reached two conclusions,—one, that the work was not done by professionals; the other, consequent upon this, that you can't recover the money.

Old Morton. Excuse me, sir, but I do not see the last conclusion.

Capper. Then listen. The professional thief has only one or two ways of disposing of his plunder, and these ways are always well known to us. Good! Your stolen coin has not been disposed of in the regular way, through the usual hands which we could at any time seize. Of this we are satisfied.

Old Morton. How do you know it?

Capper. In this way. The only clew we have to the identification of the missing money were two boxes of Mexican doubloons.

Old Morton (aside). Mr. Castro's special deposit! He may have reason for his interest. (Aloud.) Go on.

Capper. It is a coin rare in circulation in the interior. The night after the robbery, the dealer of a monte-table in Sacramento paid out five thousand dollars in doubloons. He declared it was taken in at the table, and could not identify the players. Of course, OF COURSE! So far, you see, you are helpless. We have only established one fact, that the robber is—is—(significantly) a gambler.

Old Morton (quietly). The regular trade of the thief seems to me to be of little importance if you cannot identify him, or recover my money. But go on, sir, go on: or is this all?

Capper (aside). The old fool is blind. That is natural. (Aloud.) It is not all. The crime will doubtless be repeated. The man who has access to your vaults, who has taken only thirty thousand dollars when he could have secured half a million,—this man, who has already gambled that thirty thousand away,—will not stop there. He will in a day or two, perhaps to-day, try to retrieve his losses out of YOUR capital. I am here to prevent it.

Old Morton (becoming interested). How?

Capper. Give me, for forty-eight hours, free access to this building. Let me conceal myself somewhere, anywhere, within these walls. Let it be without the knowledge of your clerks, even of YOUR SON!

Old Morton (proudly). Mr. Alexander Morton is absent to-day. There is no other reason why he should not be here to consent to the acts of his partner and father.

Capper (quickly). Very good. It is only to insure absolute secrecy.

Old Morton (aside). Another robbery might excite a suspicion, worse for our credit than our actual loss. There is a significant earnestness about this man, that awakens my fears. If Alexander were only here. (Aloud.) I accept. (CAPPER has been trying doors R. and L.)

Capper. What room is this? (At R.)

Old Morton. My son's: I would prefer—

Capper. And this? (At L.)

Old Morton. Mine, sir; if you choose—

Capper (locking door, and putting key in his pocket). This will do. Oblige me by making the necessary arrangements in your counting-room.

Old Morton (hesitating and aside). He is right: perhaps it is only prudence, and I am saving Alexander additional care and annoyance. [Exit.

Enter MR. SHADOW cautiously, C.

Shadow (in a lisping whisper to CAPPER). I've got the litht of the clerkth complete.

Capper (triumphantly). Put it in your pocket, Shadow. We don't care for the lackeys now: we are after the master.

Shadow. Eh! the mathter?

Capper. Yes: the master,—the young master, the reclaimed son, the reformed prodigal! ha, ha!—the young man who compensates himself for all this austere devotion to business and principle by dipping into the old man's vaults when he wants a pasear: eh, Shadow? That's the man we're after. Look here! I never took any stock in that young man's reformation. Ye don't teach old sports like him new tricks. They're a bad lot, father and son,—eh, Shadow?—and he's a chip of the old block. I spotted him before this robbery, before we were ever called in here professionally. I've had my eye on Alexander Morton, alias John Oakhurst; and, when I found the old man's doubloons raked over a monte-table at Sacramento, I knew where to look for the thief. Eh, Shadow?

Shadow (aside). He ith enormouth, thith Mithter Capper.

Enter OLD MORTON.

Old Morton. I have arranged everything. You will not be disturbed or suspected here in my private office. Eh! (Looking at SHADOW.) Who has slipped in here?

Capper. Only my Shadow, Mr. Morton; but I can rid myself even of that. (Crosses to SHADOW.) Take this card to the office, and wait for further orders. Vanish, Shadow! [Exit SHADOW.

Enter JACKSON.

Jackson. Mr. Alexander has come in, sir. (OLD MORTON and CAPPER start.)

Old Morton. Where is he?

Jackson. In his private room, sir.

Old Morton. Enough: you can go.

[Exit JACKSON.

Capper (crossing to MORTON). Remember, you have given your pledge of secrecy. Beware! Your honor, your property, the credit and reputation of your bank, are at stake.

Old Morton (after a pause of hesitation, with dignity). I gave you my word, sir, while my son was not present. I shall save myself from breaking my word with you, or concealing anything from him, by withdrawing myself. For the next twenty-four hours, this room (pointing to private room R.) is yours.

Each regards the other. Exit OLD MORTON C., as CAPPER exit in private room R. After a pause, door of room L. opens, and HARRY YORK appears, slightly intoxicated, followed by JOHN OAKHURST.

Harry York (looking around). By Jove! Morton, but you've got things in style here. And this yer's the gov'nor's desk; and here old Praise god Barebones sits opposite ye. Look yer, old boy (throwing himself in chair), I kin allow how it comes easy for ye to run this bank, for it's about as exciting, these times, as faro was to ye in '49, when I first knew ye as Jack Oakhurst; but how the Devil you can sit opposite that stiff embodiment of all the Ten Commandments, day by day, damn it! that's wot GETS me! Why, the first day I came here on business, the old man froze me so that I couldn't thaw a deposit out of my pocket. It chills me to think of it.

Oakhurst (hastily). I suppose I am accustomed to him. But come, Harry: let me warm you. (Opens door of safe L., and discovers cupboard, decanter, and glasses.)

York (laughing). By Jove! under the old man's very nose. Jack, this is like you. (Takes a drink.) Well, old boy, this is like old times. But you don't drink?

Oakhurst. No, nor smoke. The fact is, Harry, I've taken a year's pledge. I've six days still to run; after that (gloomily), why (with a reckless laugh), I shall be Jack Oakhurst again.

York. Lord! to think of your turning out to be anybody's son, Jack!—least of all, HIS! (Pointing to chair.)

Oakhurst (laughing recklessly). Not more strange than that I should find Harry York, the spendthrift of Poker Flat, the rich and respected Mr. York, produce merchant of San Francisco.

York. Yes; but, my boy, you see I didn't strike it—in a rich father. I gave up gambling, married, and settled down, saved my money, invested a little here and there, and—worked for it, Jack, damn me,—worked for it like a damned horse!

Oakhurst (aside). True, this is not work.

York. But that ain't my business with ye now, old boy: it's this. You've had some trials and troubles in the bank lately,—a defalcation of agents one day, a robbery next. It's luck, my boy, luck! but ye know people will talk. You don't mind my sayin' that there's rumors 'round. The old man's mighty unpopular because he's a saint; and folks don't entirely fancy you because you used to be the reverse. Well, Jack, it amounts to 'bout this: I've withdrawn my account from Parkinson's, in Sacramento, and I've got a pretty heavy balance on hand—nigh on two hundred thousand—in bonds and certificates here; and if it will help you over the rough places, old boy, as a deposit, yer it is (drawing pocket-book.)

Oakhurst (greatly affected, but endeavoring to conceal it). Thank you, Harry, old fellow—but—

York (quickly). I know: I'll take the risk, a business risk. You'll stand by me all you can, old boy; you'll make it pay all you can; and if you lose it—why—all right!

Oakhurst (embarrassed). As a deposit with Morton & Son, drawing two per cent monthly interest—

York. Damn Morton & Son! I'll back it with Jack Oakhurst, the man I know.

Oakhurst (advancing slowly). I'll take it, Harry.

York (extending his hand). It's a square game, Jack!

Oakhurst (seizing his hand with repressed emotion). It's a square game, Harry York, if I live.

York. Then I'll travel. Good-night, old boy. I'll send my clerk around in the morning to put things right. Good-night (going).

Oakhurst (grasping YORK'S hand). One moment—no—nothing! Good-night. [Exit YORK.

OAKHURST follows him to door, and then returns to desk, throwing himself in chair, and burying his face in his hands.

Oakhurst (with deep feeling). It needed but this to fill the measure of my degradation. I have borne the suspicions of the old man's enemies, the half-pitying, half-contemptuous sympathy of his friends, even his own cold, heartless, fanatical fulfilment of his sense of duty; but THIS—this confidence from one who had most reason to scorn me, this trust from one who knew me as I WAS,—this is the hardest burden. And he, too, in time will know me to be an impostor. He too—a reformed man; but he has honorably retraced his steps, and won the position I hold by a trick, an imposture. And what is all my labor beside his honest sincerity? I have fought against the chances that might discover my deception, against the enemies who would overthrow me, against the fate that put me here; and I have been successful—yes, a successful impostor! I have even fought against the human instinct that told this fierce, foolish old man that I was an alien to his house, to his blood; I have even felt him scan my face eagerly for some reflection of his long-lost boy, for some realization of his dream; and I have seen him turn away, cold, heartsick, and despairing. What matters that I have been to him devoted, untiring, submissive, ay, a better son to him than his own weak flesh and blood would have been? He would to-morrow cast me forth to welcome the outcast, Sandy Morton. Well, what matters? (Recklessly.) Nothing. In six days it will be over; in six days the year of my probation will have passed; in six days I will disclose to him the deceit I have practised, and will face the world again as John Oakhurst, the gambler, who staked and lost ALL on a single cast. And Jovita! Well, well!—the game is made: it is too late to draw out now. (Rings bell. Enter JACKSON.) Who has been here?

Jackson. Only Don Jose, and Mr. Capper, the detective.

Oakhurst. The detective? What for?

Jackson. To work up the robbery, sir.

Oakhurst. True! Capper, Capper, yes! A man of wild and ridiculous theories, but well-meaning, brave, and honest. (Aside.) This is the old man's idea. He does not know that I was on the trail of the thieves an hour before the police were notified. (Aloud.) Well, sir?

Jackson. He told your father he thought the recovery of the money hopeless, but he came to caution us against a second attempt.

Oakhurst (aside, starting). True! I had not thought of that. (Excitedly.) The success of their first attempt will incite them to another; the money they have stolen is gone by this time. (Aloud.) Jackson, I will stay here to-night and to-morrow night, and relieve your regular watchman. You will, of course, say nothing of my intention.

Jackson. Yes, sir. (Lingering.)

Oakhurst (after a pause). That is all, Mr. Jackson.

Jackson. Beg your pardon, Mr. Morton; but Col. Starbottle, with two ladies, was here half an hour ago, and said they would come again when you were alone.

Oakhurst. Very well: admit them.

Jackson. Beg pardon, sir; but they seemed to avoid seeing your father until they had seen you. It looked mysterious, and I thought I would tell you first.

Oakhurst (laughing). Admit them, Mr. Jackson. (Exit JACKSON.) This poor fellow's devotion is increasing. He, too, believes that his old associate in dissipation, John Oakhurst, IS the son of Alexander Morton. He, too, will have to share in the disgrace of the impostor. Ladies! umph! (Looking down at his clothes.) I'm afraid the reform of Alexander Morton hasn't improved the usual neatness of John Oakhurst. I haven't slept, nor changed my clothes, for three days. (Goes to door of MORTON, sen.'s, room.) Locked, and the key on the inside! That's strange. Nonsense! the old man has locked his door and gone out through the private entrance. Well, I'll find means of making my toilet here. [Exit into private room L.

Enter JACKSON, leading in COL. STARBOTTLE, MISS MARY, the DUCHESS, and child of three years.

Jackson. Mr. Alexander Morton, jun., is in his private room. He will be here in a moment. [Exit JACKSON.