(Aloud.) He
comes, eh!--Mr. Alexander Morton, gentlemen! I will show you a
cheat, an impostor!
Enter, in correct, precise morning dress, SANDY MORTON. There is
in his make-up and manner a suggestion of the father.
Concho (recoiling, aside). Diego! The real son. (Aloud,
furiously.) It is a trick to defeat justice,--eh!--a miserable
trick! But it shall fail, it shall fail!
Col. Starbottle. Permit me, a moment,--a single moment. (To
Concho.) You have--er--er--characterized my introduction of this--
er--gentleman as a "cheat" and an "imposture." Are you prepared to
deny that this is Alexander Morton?
Don Jose (astonished, aside). These Americanos are of the Devil!
(Aloud and sternly.) Answer him, Concho, I command you.
Concho (in half-insane rage). It is Alexander Morton; but it is a
trick,--a cowardly trick! Where is the other impostor, this Mr.
John Oakhurst?
Sandy (advancing with dignity and something of his father's cold
manner). He will answer for himself, when called for. (To DON
JOSE.) You have asked for me, sir: may I inquire your business?
Concho. Eh! It is a trick,--a trick!
Don Jose (to CONCHO). Silence, sir! (To SANDY, with dignity.) I
know not the meaning of this masquerade. I only know that you are
NOT the gentleman hitherto known to me as the son of Alexander
Morton. I am here, sir, to demand my rights as a man of property
and a father.
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