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.