Concho. And you recognized him?

Hop Sing. No shabe likoquize.

Concho (furiously). You knew him, eh? Carramba! You KNEW him.

Hop Sing (slowly and sententiously). Me shabe man you callee
Diego. Me shabbee Led Gulchee call Sandy. Me shabbee man Poker
Flat callee Alexandlee Molton. Allee same, John! Allee same!

Concho (rubbing his hands). Bueno! Good John! good John! And you
knew he was called Alexander Morton? And go on--good John--go on!

Hop Sing. Me plentee washee shirtee--Melican man Poker Flat. Me
plentee washee shirt Alexandlee Molton. Always litee, litee on
shirt allee time. (Pointing to tail of his blouse, and imitating
writing with finger.) Alexandlee Molton. Melican man tellee me--
shirt say Alexandlee Molton--shabbee?

Concho. Bueno! Excellent John. Good John. His linen marked
Alexander Morton. The proofs are gathering! (crosses to C.)--the
letter I found in his pack, addressed to Alexander Morton, Poker
Flat, which first put me on his track; the story of his wife's
infidelity, and her flight with his partner to red Gulch, the
quarrel and fight that separated them, his flight to San Jose, his
wanderings to the mission of San Carmel, to the rancho of the Holy
Fisherman. The record is complete!

Hop Sing. Alexandlee Molton--