Morton. The private door open, the room dark, and Capper gone. I
don't like this. The more I think of the mystery of that man's
manner this morning, the more it seems to hide some terrible secret
I must fathom! There are matches here. (Strikes a light, as
CAPPER draws OAKHURST, struggling, back into shadow.) What's this?
(Picking up key.) The key of the vault. A chair overturned.
(Touches bell.) No answer! Jackson gone! My God! A terrible
suspicion haunts me! No. Hush! (Retreats to private room R., as
door of L. opens and--

Enter SANDY.

Sandy (drunkenly). Shoo! Shoo! boys, whar are ye, boys, eh?
Pritchard, Silky, Soapy! Whar are ye, boys?

Morton (aside). A crime has been committed, and here is one of the
gang. God has delivered him in my hands. (Draws revolver, and
fires, as OAKHURST breaks from CAPPER, and strikes up MORTON'S
pistol. CAPPER at same moment seizes SANDY, and drags him in room
L. MORTON and OAKHURST struggle to centre.)

Morton (relaxing hold of OAKHURST). Alexander! Good God! Why are
you here? Why have you stepped between me and retribution? You
hesitate. God in heaven! Speak, Alexander, my son, speak for
God's sake! Tell me--tell me that this detective's suspicions are
not true. Tell me that you are not--not--no, I cannot say it.
Speak, Alexander Morton, I command you! Who is this man you have
saved? Is it--is it--your accomplice?