PS 635 .Z9 B79 Copy 1 II '") iiterly I have repented that ail; how I have prayed that it might all turn out to be a dream. But such is fated not to be the case. The dead con not be re- called to life, (dropps head on her lap and acts bs if crying). Florence — (bending over) Do not grieve. I believe you, and you were not to blame. I like 3^ou all the better then for telling me. (Edwin rises and throws armes around her and looke into her eyes and speaking in a very anxious tone). Edwin — And you do like me— can you love me? Ohl darling only say that you do love me, and I shall be the happiest man in the city? 12. Flofence— Edwin I do love you and here is my hand and my heart .sjoes with it. (Edwin places a ki«s on her cheek* Bob draws his revolver and aims as if to shoot but changes his mind and replaces revolver). Edwin — Bless you my darling. The cloudes that have hung over my head for the last two years have now been removed by you — you my little wife. Sweet Florence will you sing me one of the old songs? Florence— If it will give you pleasure Edwin I will. Edwin— It will, (music Florence sings). Florence — Are you satisfied now? Edwin— That is splended Elorence, but you must excuse me now, as I must go and make ready for the train if I do not wish to miss it. So good by dearest. (Bob exits. Edwin kisses her and then goes over to ue., aside) Now my fine birdji have caged you with as many lies as you have fingers and toes: And as for you my cousin Bob Long, I have won myfi rss step and it will not be long before I win the next card, (exits we., Flor- ence crowses to UE., and looks R. and l., and then returns to piano cr organ sitting on stool and lost in thoughts). Florence— What have I done? Engaged my- self to marry this man who facinated me almost against my will? Ohl do I love him? Can I be contented and happy, when — when Bob Long- Bob Long. What a name, yet what a noble heart he has. Oht I hope I shall not see him again— never, for it will make me regret the past. Ah! can it be that I regret my dicision, already, (turn- ing around and striking keyes. Bob enters fromR. 1e. smoking cigar sits down on sofa throwing feet on chair back and keeping time with music, sudd- enly Florence turns and exclamea) Bob Long? B')B — Preseat. GaneiMlly am around ahou grub time, you know. Been studing two hours to find out how I could buy a square meal with half 13. a dime, which I picked up on Wall street, but got stpck; so I concluded I'd wander around here for a rouod o' rations. Florence— Bob, you are awful! don't you know that is a rediculous position to occupy? and, then, gentlemen never smoke in the presence of ladies. Bob— Oh! they don't, eh? [lying down cigar and bracing vp.) Didn't know that before. FiiORENCE— Are you hungry. Bob? Bob— What if I am? Florence— Because I will get you lunch. Bob— Oh! no you won't. Bob Long don't accept charity, if you please. I was just fooling with you about the grub; I came here on different buisness. Florence— What buisness. Bob? Bob — Well this is rather a ticklish way to put it to a feller. You might have seen, I'm all atten- tion, which would have been just as well. {She crose^ over to l., siis r., of tahle.) Florence— Well I am all attention then, if that is any belter, Bob. Bob — That is more buisness like. Suppose you come and sit her on the sofa. Miss Florence; maybe I could not say my say so scientificly, with you sitting: over there. Florence— I'd rather not, Mr. Long. Bob— But I'd rather you would. {Eising from seat and crossing to l., and seizing her b :, thewaiste firm y but gently) Come, Florence, you shall not trifle with me. {Both cross over to sofa and sit down.) Florence, I have come here to tell you that I love you, and ask you to take the name of Long in exchange for that of Thornly. I am not going to give vent to whole yards of nectar — impreg- nated effusions, like my cousin a short time ago, nor am I going to get down on my knees be- fore you. I offer you the love of a Bohemian— a rough, honest, but untiring affection, that will stand the test oi flood or fire. Perhaps, as I am only seventeen, j'ou think me incapable of loving as devotiugly as a man of thirty-five, but you are 14 mistaken iu that respect. I offer myself, and you can except or decline, at your own opinion. I am poor, have just five cents on which to commence house keeping; not a very entertaining prospect I am aware, but many a gal's begun on worse. To- morrow Bob Long's going to launch forth into the world on a new strike at which he can attain a reputation, if he don't make a cent — and a young married couple ought to be able to exist on repa- tation and love, pretty we\\.{ Florence lays head on Bob^s shoulder and iveeps'] You love me and will be mine? \^Brushes hair back with a tender motiori] Oh! darling say yes, and say that you will break the engagement with Edwin James? [Baising her head] FiiORENCE— iVb.^ wo, 7 cannot. I shall marry him Mr Long.^ for I promised him in good faith. You should not have come. Bob — Maybe not, but I was in the hall, and over heard most of my cousin's wooing. {Blslng.) I wish you the best of luck and a happy life with that man, Florence, {walking to ve.) He, and I are enemies— bitter foes, with a fortune standing between us. I shall fight him till the game is dead. Again and again he may kill me, but, like the JPhoenix, I shall each time rise from my ashes to continue the battle. Greek sliall meet Greek, b are- well, Florence; may my love never haunt you like a reproachful! phantom. [Uxits ue., Florence rise, then staggers and falls in a faint, closed in by a street scene.) Scenes. A street in 1g., Bob enters from' 1,1 E., stopping c, of stage. Bob— Edwin James has won. He has won this point, and stands ten chances to my one, of wining the other. Florence refused me, and by Heaven, no girl shall ever have that chance again. Henceforth the life of Bob Long, Bohemian, shall be devoted to the one sweet object, after the death- blow to my love— rev nge! 1 will track and hunt Edwin James through life, until he will be glad to die to escape me; and that fair, false creature whom I have just left— I will make her love me as no other woman ever worshiped man; then I will spurn her in pav for the dicision of to-day. Ah! if life looks bitter now, there will be a day when I shall triumph over mine enemies; and to attain that triumph, shall be the sole object of my future life. [/S'am Reel enters from rIe.] Hello Sam Heel! What makes your face beam so furously? [Both shake hands.] Sam — Because I've struck lie. There's an old covey Inquirin' feryou; wants you to take charge of a steam yacht, an' run a pleasure excursion down the bay to-morrow, for which 3'ou will get twenty dollars, spot cash, before startiu'. Sed he heard ye kin handle a yacht, as wanted just such a hand. Bob— Hurrah! \_Swinging cap.] that is good news. Where's the ship that's to sail? Ham — At Aldens warf. Bob— All right. Tell the old fellow I'll be there at seven sharp. Now I've got some^business elsewhere. \^lSam exits lIe.] I've got to do it. There is no help for it, and >Ae gave it to me, too. [Displays chain and locket.] I would that my victual container were not so empty, in which ease I should not hesitate to waite, for to-morrow I'm to have a twenty dollar job. I shall have to do it. Ah! here comes Isaac the German Jew. I may be able to drive a bargin with him. {Enters Isaac Isaacs fromnlE.] Isaac— Goot morning, Mr Long. Nice day out mit der rain vere de beoples vas so plently, eh? Bob— A confounded disagreable day I should say, dubiously blue, when a feller's out of rocks. What value will you put upon this for a couple of days. [Drops locket and chain in Isaac^ s hand.) Isaac— Vere from y3u got dish, Boby. I hope 16. dot you vpsQ't pen stealing does tings, eh? Bob — No sir; I am no tliief poor though I am. That locket was gWen me by my Jady— Jove, but poveriy ucces iiales tiiat I must pawn it in order to get bead to Stay my stomach. I expect to stiikea streak of luck tc day or to-morrow, and will redeem itwbeu I gee money. IsA^c — Veil Bob'y, you vas a burtv nice poy only yod vas pe lazer dan dunder untblitzen. 8dill a man somedimeswill get lazy, uad vantter shut up the&bop vor a tear. Old Isaac Isaacs is one of dem Jewsharps. You vas a nice poy, Bob-y, mit a head oq you like a parrel o' carway brandy — sharp und keen — und as I like to do a good turn sum dimes, I gif you ten toilars an' leven cents, unt you keep de watch unt chain. [Off'e7'ing back chain locket and inoney; Bob takes it. Bob— What! you don't mean to say you give this to me without holding the locket for security? Isaac— Shust ezgactly does, Bob'y, you vas a nice poy unt dish vill get you a goot meal unt several schooner ofer at Shake Miners. Bob — But see here; suppose I never come back to settle this debt? Dida't know an old jewsharp like you'd trust a Bohemian with so much tin. Isaac— Of course Bob'y, of course. If you vas not come pack unt pay me, I get's him nefer fear. Trust Isaac Isaacs fer does. Bob— Just exactly what I intend to do, old man; come over and take a cigar at Jakes. {Both exit lilE., opened with a room scene. Scene 4. A room in 3g., chairs r., and l., cot bed Q.^ of stage Boh discovered lying on cot bed with Jace doivn. As scenes are shifted, Ruth Mel- vine enters from VE., and glides over to cotbed. Ruth— Bob. He is asleep. {Sitting down on cot bed, and then bends over and strokes his hair) 1 woader what the matter is? Wake up Bob. It is Ruth c'tLue to call on you. {Bob turns over with tears in his eyes. ) Bob— low, Miss Melvin. {Bracing up.) What is there I can do lor you? Ruth— What have you been crying about, Bob? ( Taking Bob's hands in her's.) Bob— What have I been crying ^about, little attic angel? {Putting his arm^ around her waisteanddra in g her closer.) WeU I'll tell you; I got the grand boast, to-day, and have been blubb- in^' about it, like a great blubber I am. Ruth— The grand boast? I do not understand your meaning, B )b? BoB—DonH^ Well, in plain language, my lady-love has skipp d me and is engaged to my cousin, Kdwin James. Ruth— 0/i/ dear, is that true? I thought you were such fast lover-, and ah'eady engagea. Bob— No, never quite engaged, but I always calculated she belonged to me and 'vice versa' with him. But Edwin popped before I got there, and his gift of tongue won her over; I overheard the whole tale, and after he departed I put in my vote, but it was refused , on account of tender age I guess. Ruth— Do yon really care so much for her. Bob? Are there not others you could be nmch happier with, than with her? {glancing at one another) Bob— Perhaps it is all for the l;est; perhaps there are those with whom I can be happier. Thank you for the suggestion, Ruth; it opens up another idea of life to me. Ruth, how old are you? Ruth — Sixteen, Bob. Bob — Sweet sixteen, eh? And those words are verified in you; you are a sweet little thing, and worth any man's love. I am going to leave New York 8f>on, dear, and quit this Bohemian life; I was made for something better. Three years hence if Providence permits, I will return and ask acer- 18. tain little blue-eyed girl to be my bride. Ruth— (in an eager tone) On! Bob, you don't mean a word of what you say. Bob— Yes I do mean just what I say Ruth, but put no hope in it; either you or I may be dead be- fore that time. Do you care just a little for me, Ruth— Oh, Bob, I love you. {throius her arms around Bob's neck) I think I have loved you a great while,Bob. BoB_And I am very grateful and glad that I have one in this wide world to love me, you dear ^irl. I am your friend, Ruth. I will not say that I possess anything like love for you; you could not well believe me that I am so fresh f rt m an infatiuation for another girl. But wherever I go I shall carry your sweet image with me, and think of this hour, when a cloud of sunshine has broken in to irradiate the darkness of my heart. Ruth— OA.' Bob, I know I can teach you to love me. Take me now, and make me yours, for- ever ; I am not too young. Bob— Maybe not; some happy mariages occur among even youDger people than you and I, but they are fow. Besides, before I enter the stage of matrimony, I have a mission to fulfill — a revenge to complete and a fortune to make, such as will be counted by tens of thousands. {Just as the last words are spoken an arm, is seen thrust through the ivindoiu with revolver in hand and fires two shots, Buth falls on cot, Bob springs to his feet and Oudlip enters through tvindow; goes over and robs ^Buth and runs hand inBoh'spocket who jumps up, grasp Guidlphy the neck, and2)oir>ts revolver in his face; (^udlip draws knife from, belt and makes a strike at Bob; his hand^ is caught by Buth, vjho stands on cot with revolver in left hand—Pictu7'es. -A.OT IX. Scene 1. A room in 4g., in the home of Mr. Ralph Long; tableiAJE. cot-bed l2e. chair back of cot oed, Ralph Lonp lying on th^. same, safe R.. of UE. ju iwln sitting down and leaning on his hands; Mutph speaks in a feeble voice. Ralph— Yes, the doctors say I am improving and shall soon be upon my legs again. If the liinl) only continues to mend, and no inflammation sets in, I guess the old gent coustitutiou willjcarry him through. Uncle Kalph ain't a going to give up yet, with gold a dollar, five, if he can help himself. Edwin — I am glad to here your resolution, aud see that you still have a few more chances for life left, uncle. ,1 am sure it would grieve no one more than I, to see you die when you ought to live a good score of years yet. Ralph— I don't know about that, nephew. It is easy to say it, but I've had a strong distrust all along that you were onlyputiing the old man up, so as to keep on the right side of him with an eye to the future. But I've prepared every thing, and those that do right, shall be served right. Edwin— Sarely you wouid not accuse me of villianous motives; uncle when I have never given you cause; I am surprised. 2:). Ralph— Apparently! Perhaps you have no de- signs upon my wealth— would be well pleased if I were to leave it to some one else than you? {negro puts head in doorivay) Edward— Exactiy. You can leave it all to charity, and I shall be just as well pleaded {^wrmn^r head) Hello! you black lubber, what do you want? (withdraws head) Ralph— It's a worthless scamp Tom sent in his place to-day. If I were as limber as 1 u>ed to be, I'd flog him for his meddlesomeness. Edward— He needs it. Ralph— By the way, nephew, what would you say if I should tell you that I had left every cent to Bob Long? {negro puts head in door-way] Edwin — I should say you were an old ignora- mus sirf Ralph— And why? Edwin — Because, my Bohemian cousin is dead— furnish hed food for he Hudson bay, four days ago. Ralph— What! Bob dead? Edwin— Exactly. Was blown up in a yacht explosion. Ralph — I remember of hearing something about that fire and bursting up. The boy was sus- pected of setting the tire? Edwin — Yes sir. Ralph— And escaped? Edwin— We thought so, at first, but concluded not afterward. Ralph— Wef You were along, then? Edwin— I was. Ralph— I had a dream about that disaster. I thought the boy was on the boat — down in th»^ engine-room; had a big man attacked and bound: him then set tire to the boat, and all hurriedly left the boat but the boy. Edwin— And he— did he escape? Ralph — I cannot tell. Only time will prove that, nephew. Ha ha! what makes you so whiter 21. Edwin — Aheiu! I was not aware that I am while. Ralph — You were for a moment. Perhaps it was t)uly a rus-h uf blood to your cowardly heart. ( s dwin Leaps from his chair and bends over Ralph and spe 'k.i in a husky voce. Edwin - What do you mean? I mean to know! KAL.PH— Nothing nothinj- ud- lip will have another job. [exits ulE^scene 3 open- ed with a ':oo7n.'\ Scene 3. A room in the home of I'ldwin Jamea in io.tahle c, chairs in proper places ofa r2e. JCdwin James sitting r. of table smoiking, enters Sam Heel, from ue. and > alks over to sofa and rest, /'is feet on the table. Sam Reel -Mi. El win Jamei", I believe. Edwin- I believe so. Is there not room upon the floor for your feet, young man? Sam— No, I reckon not wlien yours is about, old covey. Didan't come here to be bossed neither, come to make inquiries. You were on that yacht when she exploded? Edwin— No. I was in a boat making for shore, at the time. Sam— Ah! yes. Where was my pard. Bob Long, at this time? Edwin— On the boat, it is believed. He set 24. tire to the yacht, and nruat have crept iuto th< hold out of sijfht, and blown to atoms. 8am — Think he was? Edwin — I havn't a doubt of it. Sam — What a pity ;yoii and that old snoozer Gudlip, warn't along. Think Bob Long'a deaii then? Edwin — I do, most assurdly. Why? Sam — Oh! I wanted to be sure, incase he's i white win^er|fluther, i've got some buzuess witi you. by and by. 'i'ake an optical inventory of mj phiz, so that you may remember me. My name U Keel — Sam Keel, at your service. (6'am Kxrrs ue and Bob Long enters as M. Sardon a'Jreanchmar from UE. and crows to E >win and hands hU oarc to Edwin who takes it and reads'^ EDWli^^Well sir? [sits down.] Bob— Well! Mr. Edwin James, I suppose? Edwin— I suppose so, along with yourself sir. Why pray? Bob— VVhy? {catchinp his heal) Weil yoi see, I an hunling for an Edwin J-^mes, and yui are the man, I expect? Edwin — i gue^8 not, there are three other in the city by that name. Bob— Eh! there are? Didn't find only ou< name of the kind upon the director, which \^d nn to the couclusi »n ti.at yt-u v\ere the individual. Edwin— What do you \n ant of Edwin James then? Bob— O^i! tha^ dei ends somewhat on^ circum stances. Have you or did ^ ou have a cousin bj the name of Bob Long? lit was a Bohenaau sor of a chap I believe. Edwin — Certainly not. We Jameses have n< kith nor kin of that name. Bob— Ah! then, perhaps I am mistaken. Bu maybe you once knew a beautiful girl by the nam* of Daisy Hughes. She was enticed from homi and ruined by an arrant knave by the name o lames, and then assassinated at an ill house, ii this city by her benayer. 25. Edwin— Ab! can it be tbat he was so foolish? 1 did not think him sobiss a coward, {(-iudlin ENTERS/rom UE. with black-jack in his hand.) Bob— What say? (^dmn rises.) * Edwin— Ah! what was . I saying? You are a detective, eh? Bob — Perhaps. Edwin— Then your race is run. Death to you and your fraterniry. {^udlip strikes and Bob falls to the floor) Is he dead? GuDL,iP— Deader'n a door nail. I'll bet you drinks! You said death and £ give him a stinger. I'll see if any life remains, [^examings Bob] He is dead. Edwin— Dead! Good Heuvenl I did not mean for you to kill him. What shall we do with him? He IS a detective and if he does not return iuq»ry will be made for him. Then what? GiJDLiP— Exactly. We've put our foot in it for once! j he fellow's name is Sardon and he was as sharp as a weasel. No doubt his misi^ion here js known at head-quarter, unle^s he has un- dertaken to handle the ctse aloue. lu the former case, your only plan is to hid the corpse, and clear out. If we can tirat get rid of the body, I will hud out if it was known that 8ardon came here, and report. Prepare yourself to leave the city for a while, any how^ It will be safe. I am going to take French leave myself soon. Edwin— But, here is this accursed tell tale b'^dy; how shall we dispose of that. It must not be lound here by heaven. GUDLIP— JNo; it would not be well foryou. Is there a sewer couueciion in under this house? Edwin — Yes, yes; by jove! I had not thought of that . There is a large trap in the celler, which opens directly into a sewer main. GuDi^ip— Then we are all light. Now help me to carry him to the celler, {both carry B »b off the stape and then return.) It is all right now. Edwin— Now Gudiip, you oan make yourself 26. scarse till to-morrow as I uow mu?. izc; her. [Gudlip handa knife in Edwin a d tliry both roll up Hwir abeves; Ebn-ence dots not speak until she S' es tkey are r( ady.) Fdokencf — No, no; I will never sign them, you i)^nnn\\{druws revolvers on both men; both fallback suprl-ied.) Gel oiit of the ro'jiu, or as God I- my j.idL-e, I will put a i.ull t through both of your biack hearts! Go, go or both of you are dead men. Do not ihitik that I cannot shoot or ain afraid or you wii find (kH vonr ini^iake. I have in secret been preparing for this hour when 1 hhould need to defend myself against you two human wolves. Edwin — [to Oud^ip'jWe cannot do anything nioie with her at present. IShe is on guard, and it wou.d be dangerou to tritle v\iLli her. 1 shall lirst have to coax around her, riiake apoligies, and any amount of ijromises, a d that way redu. e her suspicion and waLcuiuiluess. Next time v\e will use revolvers instead of knives. Floke>ck — Are you goiug?(^o?!/i bow and exit R\E) My God what shall become of me— what shall become of me? {puts revolver in her breast) T( o think thai man is my husband and I am hid wife!(ea:i^s LIE; end of second scene) 34. Scene 3. A broker shop in AO. counters on both side of stage she/ves back of counter with a vuinker of articles on the shehfs ar>d counters. Inaac Isaacs, sitting back of counter, Edwin stands in doorway as scenes are shfted. Edwin — Ablthis is the place, as I tbought. Helio, Mr. Isaac Isaacs. This is the last place ia the ^'^ orld I should expect to find you. Isaac — Eh? you vassurprised ter vind dtroldt vanderihg Jew way out niit der West, hey? Veil, pizntss got so slow in de city, und I vas so ferry poor, dot I vas forced to pull out. Who vash you, onnyhow? Ish you Dan Jones? Edwin — Oh, no. Isaac— Philip Scheider, den? Edwin— Nor Phil(). Isaac — Isb dot so? Den you must be dot t'itf Jake Wchwoitz, vot saddle away mit a tray of my gold bunding gase vatches Aha you vas Jake. Edwin— IV ixy, old man. You don't know nie I guess. Isaac— Oh, don't fool mit yerselt. Isaac vas no such a large fool as you snbbose, I twig you as^ii de poys used der say. You ish Hynian Schmidt, der brick bocket, vot left sum sdoien silvervare mit my pawnshop, for vieh I got six veeks id Sing Sing brison. Yaw dat ish shoust who y< u be. Edwin— Ha, ha, old man, you're wTong again, I don't tl ink you know n>e, at all; never knew you, at least, intimately. My name is Edwin James, the millionaire. I succeeded to old Ralph Long's estate. Isaac — Ish dot so ? You succeeded in ptating ould Ralph Long, eh? Veil dot vas pad. Ralph couldn't have held a goot hand, den. You had de most glubs an' drumps, no doubt. Unit you name was Jones? Yaw I remember. Edwin— But old man, I have a little business ^ith you, which we can just as well transact now, 35. as any other time. What do you know coucern- iug the will of the late Ralpli Long deceased ? Isaac— Hey? how vas dot? Edwin — What do you know about the will of the laje Raioh Long deceased? Isaac— Ish dot so? Ralph vas ceased drink- ing, den? Veil dot ish goot. We ustd to vas elejiandt friend.'', ant took our lemonade straight. But sumdimes Ralph he would get • o full as a ped-pug, unt I hoti to carry him home in my arms. Yaw, Ralph he was halt a vill of his own, unt he could tigliC like sum dwo or tray sitting — Pulls. I dell's you. Edwin— 6b, nonsense; you don't und rstand, at all. Isaac— Yaw, I understand ferry goot, my foundation vas ferry large lor a sniciil man iike me. 1 wear s^ixteens, large. Edwin— Hother^itiou! I'm not alluding to your l)ar iter. Jsa c picks it up with a smile and reaches under the counter and brings out two glasses and a boiileand Jill up g 'asses, arid the?!, thejj both put glass to lips and drink.) Edwin — Why this is no lemonade; it's the best article of brandy. Isaac— Ish dot so? Dot ish de kind ol a jewsharp I am. Edwin— Now, how much do you know about the will of Ralph Long. Isaac — Nodink? Mister Edwin James — nodink I assure you {inching teeth with a large bowie-knife) you comes her an' t'ink you bulldoze sumtings out off dish jew pawn-broker, but you vas ferry mooch niisdaken. Isaac vas so mooch smarter as you t'ink he wasn't unt ven you find out augh'ink apoud vot you don't know from dis jewsharp, you had petter py sume more lemon«de at fife tollars a schmell. yaw, yaw, yaw. [Rob enters as Snow in a darky costume, with a banjo from U. E.) Hello ! ish dot you. Mister Snow. [cooning from behind counter and placing chair in C of stage). Take a chair unt give us some music. I ish a loafer of goot music, aut you haven't bin aroundt since wvek pefore next. Mister Bnow, dis ish Mister Edwin Junes, tV- m New York. {Bob bows to Edwin and then Bob takes a seat and tunes up banjo, then plays one piece a)ter which he plays a jig and Inaac yteps out and dances and keeps Hup until scenes ore shipped, scene three — do ed in by scene f our. ^ Scene 4 — Front Bush in IG, Oudlip euters 37. ^r 0711 Hi E., crosses stage and t?ien returns t* C. of ttage. GuDLTP— The coast is cipar now for w< rk. enters Boh Long as Snow from R\E Oudllp meaks up knftckn him down pichs hnn up ind takes him off tfte ntaije — hUiwia enters R\ ■.. crosses stage sfv> raf titnts udlip enters R\ E] Edwin -What made you s » lait-? GUDLIP— Oh, I took luatters easy, aud made jure of my uanie. Edwin— You didn't capture him ? GuDiJP— Yes I did — knocked him down, t)ouiid hin'j and carr ed him out of town, four or Ave mtleM from Newere. Edwin— Ddn't kill him? (iuDLip — Not much, I left you lo do the butcheiintr part. Rhcou I've salted away about enough humans to ensure me a safe passage to the devils regions. Edwin— All right. I'll finis^h the job. Wait here tiH 1 iroa d gel my medicine. Gudlip— Are you going to use the same stuff you fixed out old L«»ng witn? Edwin— Yes— the enhalation liquid you gave me. Gudlip Better stick him with a knife along with it to niHke sure. Edwin— Ugh ! no! I dete«^t bloodshed, where I have to do it personally. The liquid ought to do the work Gudlip — It will I'll guarantee. {Edwin exits ^1/?) He has gone for the druiis and while I am wailing I will amuse you all with a song.(//*w«ic he sings after which tMwin enter R\E.) Jdwin— Now lor the spot, itad on, {both txit L]E end oj scene 4.) SCFNE 5 ji grove 3 G sad music Boh lying in C of stage * ound li-'mi and foot. Enters Owitip and Edwin, R3 ii. Stage dark. 38. Edwin — Ha, ha, Bob Loner; a&raln we have you. {kweliuf/ beside Bob). Gnce before you es- caped death, but you shall not dow. Bob— You cannot kill me. You murdered Bob Long in a most horrible manner, but his spirit, clothed in the flesh of the Phcsnix arose to haunt you. The PhcBnix is imperishable. Eewin — Aha! we will ^ee about that. I have poison for you to inhale, which will fix you I guess, Gudlip lie this cloth over his face, (puts cloth over Bob^sfacf nnd Edwin pours water on the clofh and both rise to their feet.) We shall have to dig out of here on tomorrow's stag*^ before the body is discovered, or that accursed oid Jew may accuse us of the crime. I guess the devil is done away with sure, this time. Gudlip— Undoubtedly! Did you make any- thing out of the Jt-w? Edwin— Nothing. He's game to the back bone. Let us get out of here liveIy.(6o^A ex>t BSE Sad music — Bob groans— Buth enters LIE. arid stumbles over Bob ] Ruth— How dark it is, what have I stumbled over, {feels Bob as still'] As I live its a man or boy. {lighted stage], The manner is daring, but what can have happened him, there is a cloth on his face, I smell cologne [kneeling down and putting her ear to his chesty He lives but who can it be? I will soon find out. {pull off cloth] jumps and stag- gers.) What — as «iui e a« there is a God above us it is Bob a loved and cherished friend. But he is gagged and bound* {cuts the strings and removes ffaff'l Bob— Where am I ? Ruth— With the attic angle. Bob— Where have they gone? Ruth- Who ? Bob— Edwin and Gudlip. Ruth— I do not know. Bob— That is all right. Help me to rise Ruth, [Buthhelps to raise Bob.] 39. Bob— Ha, ha! Edwin jTmes, I said you could not kill me and I told you the truth. Bob Long the Boy Phoenix is still alive and more daring than ever before to haunt you down. Ruth — Are you all risht now. Hob? Bob— Oh yes. Edwin James' I said you could not kill »ne and the Phoenix is still «live and is ye' reHdy to continue the battle, {looking towards L. U. E. wHh Hhdde.d eyes\ By heavens do my eye dec^^ive m» !— no, no th»\y Long! Bob— Pistol Pete Jr., at your service. Florence— (Zeor/?7?5r aqainst m,antle)0\\^ it cannot be Do yon think you can deceive me? Bob— P stof Pete Jr., the road apent, and Phoenix which r<icream&) Oh, do not deceive me. tell me th** truth and free my mind from this hor- rorins purprise. Bob — Was I not killed in the explosion on the Krtst River? E don t -lee how I can be alive and be Bob Long, after being securely hound and left a pri^oner in the engine-room of the yacht. No, I am Pistol Pete Jr , the road agent, [caide] or Bob Long, the Boy Phoeoix. Florenc —I d'» not understand, you say you were lef( a p isoner on the yacht. Bob— And toM the truth. The excursion was planned by you t^eloved husband and his Itailion butcher, Gudlip,|especially for mydistrue- tion, though I knew it not until afterward I was engagtd as entrineer, but kuf'w not who were to be my pas!aineer«i. Aft'T westru'*k the bay I was made a prisoner b^ Gudlip, and he filed thie yacht. 41. Florencw— And—and - Bob I was first burned into a crisp, and my ashes tossed skyward i*y the explosion. Later I canrie to life as tlie Boy Phoenix. Fj^orencr — Oh B b, how can you tell such a terrible falshoo^i? You can deceive nie no longer. {walking over to Bob, he shrinks away from her.) Boh— VV bat do you wanl? Florexcic — I want you to take me away from Edwin James— protect me from his brutality, take me and tly to another part of t icearlh, where I can live solely in your love. Bob— Then you love me, yet? Florence -Love you! Dear Bob, I have never ceased to love you. I loved you when I made the one terrii»'^ tnislakeol my life, in marry- ing Edwin Jame?*; I love you still, only with a passion ten-fold hW^u^^v. [throws arms around his neck, he throws thern ' ^] Bob— Don't, remtmuer that you can be noth- ing to me, while you are his wife. Florence— But, he is wild, reckless and dissi pated, and if bv some courted act of ruffianism he ^ould die. what then? Bob— Don't give me conundrums to answer. My»name is Pistol Pete .Jr., and I am not now a marrying man. You cho^e a vili.iin in my place, three years ago. and will have to abide with your lot. You w^ili confer a favor by not mentioning me to your amiable bu band, as he might kill me again, which would put me to the trouble of once more rising from my ashes. I bid you a pleasant good-evening, Mrs. James. {6oi6'-, and exts UJS. J^lore7iee exits R2E Edwin enters TJE., 8''t8 dotvn and commences sraokiing. iSam ente 8 from JJE., walk6 over and taps Edwin on the shoulder,) vSam — You have lost some of your lormer prac- tice, I guess, old fellow. The time was, three years ago, when you were the terror of all the faro and keno games in New Y^ork. (;ooA;m.(jr around) Edwin — Who are you? I don't know you. 42. Sam — Guess not. Three years covers old tracks of gfuilt, 'and pats Dew faces on old acquaia- tance. My name is Will Raymond, detective. Edwin — And a consort of Bob Long, also. Ha, ha! but T guess I du remember you. Y(^u were Demon Dice, ou the Missippii? Sam— Probably. We detectives have to get ourselves disguises sometimes, and associae with the worst of villains, such as you and that Italian dog of vours. Edwakd — Look out, sir, or you will repent your woad.-! I will tolerate none of your insolence. Sam —Ob! you won't eh? Well miybe in preference, you'd rather tolerate a pair of brace lets {displays.' handcuffs.) Reitjembei, that you fire warned in Nt^w Y<e without enemies. {Oadlip exitH UE., Edwin picks up book and com' mences reading Bob enters from U E, stands aftw minutes and then laughs. Edwin turns round and exclaims:)You\ my God, what mockery is ail thi^? {Bob 'with a wave of his ha- d)Whsit do you want? Why do you come here? 43. Bob — To pass a few n.oments of time, while the sht riff aud his men are s?earchin«^ for me in tiie crowd, yonder. I spied you up here, oanie up audi eked the door behind nie, atid here we ae un- less you ai tempt to call ^oras^l^tau e, wheu I sliall iieoes«arily i»ave t<^ bullet doze you in the latest Carolinastyle. Besides I have a lilt lo business to transact with you— wish to relieve your mind, fe*it yoti sul)ject irie to be a f^upernatural. Send me a lucifer, please. {Kdwin luindn Bob his rmnich case Boh takes several and lights cigar afUr which returns c<(se to Edwm.) Was up to call upon Mrs. J., several h(»urs «go, but we didn't a)>pear to be very happy. Living with a natural born human wolf, is not what it is cracked up to be. I warned her, however, before she married you. Edwin— Si'ie isjets treated well enough constd- erin^ that she i^ onlv my unsuspecting sla^se. The girl was never legally made my wife. Bob — I think you are mistaken, I know it was part of your plot \\ ith Hardy Kindt to have a mock maiiiHge performed, but it so happened that L'lnofi the deceas-ed Boebmiau, had more powei ov« t the student than ids cousin, yourself, and as a natural result, he. Kit dt, was induced to send a real miniMter of the j^o^^ptl in his place and so Edwin— You \\q\ {springs to his feet) You Bob— 8h![c?ra?^irj^ dagger.^^^i>\\Ge^o{ raising your voice quite so loud; remember that the Sheriff" is below, and wants a fellow something after my style and disposition. It's the truth- nothing but the truth, that you are legally bound to her who was Fl )rence Thornley, and I happen lo possess duplicate papers, to show for it. So this little information will furnish you lood for^ future meditation. Perhaps you would like to know how I eacaped the two traps you so generous ly laid for me? Edwin— M'^re than all else. It would enable me to obtain a clearer apprehension of the case. Bob — Very well. There being no more stage* 44. to stop to night and having a little extra time I don't mind telling you. In the sterm of life which we live, we never kVow when we are to be strick- en. I was of course i< nf> rant of peril— ignorant of the helish trap you liad laid for me, until Gudlip caught me at a disadvantage, and made ine power- less. Then, When I s iw him set Hre to the yacht, the wiiole truth flashed across mp brain, and I knew to whom 1 owed this threatened death. In vain I str-mrgled ta free myself. Not because I was afraid tft'dip, did I struggle. I only yearned to get free fft^the sake of revenge. And 1 was distained tj*-iiave my wishes ^rantitied. Sudden- ly a fii?ur6l^^ped from the burning hold, when the flames were rsgiog madly and my bonds wnie cut and, I Mas pitched head-foremost into the bay thrO*«^b the port hole where I had been sitting at t^ time of my capture, [looking out the door.] The pext minute my old 'hum and Bohemian par#, Sam Reel, cacie after me and I knew to wh^ih I owed ray life. He knew Gudlip to be a ras^£ll, and scenUnj; crime he concealed himseif abdkfd— quite luckily for my welfare. We swam outinto the bay, at k safe distance, and floating upcwD our backs', allowing the tide to wash us ashore. The next dry I arrived in town, and had the pleasure of reading my own obituary. That affair on the Mis'^ippii was clever enouerh, but I did not give you a chance to nab n-e, as you would have lilied, no doubt. But at Dead City, you again got the best of rue. Your villainous Italian again laid me out when I was^not expecting him, anc^ then you came to finish the job. That was intended for a poisonous inhalation, that you put upon the cloth and spread over my face, eh? Edwin— Yes. Bob— Well, it was the most grateful poison I ever inhaled. By m stake you had brought along yotir perfumery bottle in the place of your poison, and saturated the rag liberally with Prt^uch cologne. I take the present opportunity to thank 45. you, for in those daya I was not able to purchase an article so pleasant to the smell. Edwin— You have been cursed fortunate, 'but you cannot always resist death, whether you call yourself Devil, Piioenix, or wliat. Bob— T do not iuteud to give you another dig at me. I shall keep watch or you. When I feel in a proper disposition, I shall arrest you and take you back to New York, and swing you off a scaf- fold within Sing Slug walls for double murder. Ah! Edwin James, you have fewer secrets from the Phoeni x(/oo/cm(/ around) than from the old B<.b Long. I saw you l.-ike the life of our un(,-le; I was llie dar e»y who so b'tlitie' you 1 was ilie sham M. Sardon, wboni v ou so kindiy chucked down in tbe sewer. But for Ibe ein|)'i- n'^ss of tne subierrane :i^ passage, I prob^by shou'd never have estapel. Edwin— You have been every thing but the devil, and a part ol him. (t( iiiy? Bob— Yes I eloved < ousin, iliouirh I assure you itcauses, nie much soirow lo part from so angle a being. We shall meet again, 1 trust. So don't crowd on your neighbors I advise you, With the thought that you'll triumph again, For 3'our enemies ' all will critcise you, When 1 flap up the truniph card and win. {ExitSf {enters Isaac Isaacs from UE E'hvard rises, picAs up cane and walks over towards Isaac ) JSAAC — Ooot morning, Mr. Edwin J m(S, {Holds Iiaiid Old.) How you vas? ( hoke.) J DWIN — Riglit well, bow are you? Isaac — Oil. I>a;ic vas alw tys der same; poor and bealtby. I'll dake lenn uade, if \o\\ sy s<». Edwin— Not on my expei se, you wool I know you of old— a regular old skiutlint, you are, witli more money tban l)rains. Isaac— Vas? You t'ink old I aacs vas not some jioot deal ptains, eh? Oho! mine Iiiend you vas so niucbu misda'^en as nefer vas. Ycu find dot Isaac pe a SKi\w^ sure enough, put he vas 46. no vone's shockasp, you pet te sourkriut on r?ot." I make you von leedle combliment, Edwin James, ven I tole you dot you pe a fool. Edwin— What, you call me a fool? You old blunderbuss, take that, [strjkps at him wUh cane, hut Is'tacJumjDS aside^ leVsgo hufist, and kn aha Edwin down.) ISA.AC— Yaw, I took dot, unt I o^iff him pack again, you pet. ( With a laugh ) Ven you vaut some more ofFder same kind, Mr. Edwiu James, shust come around unt see me; you see my sign mitdot building, ofer yonder— unt a Jewsharp am I. {Extts UE., enters Florence L'^E. Edivin rises, ivalks over to Florence and speaks in a hoarse voice.) Edwin— See here, you hussy, do you know what £ have just found oui? Fi.oRENCE— How should I? Edwin— How should you, indeed? ' Why I have found out that you are legally and lawfully my wife. Florence— Why— did you ever think me not your wife? Edwin — Yes — of course. 1 supposed (hat the preacher who married us was a sham, but Bob Long's accursed interference made a balk, and a true minister was sent — so you are legally bound to me, when I had supposed you to be only my tool and victim. FJiOBENCE— Then God praise Bob Long. Edwin— Eh, you triumph? Oh no; you die, curse you — you die, and by my hands, and may my everlasting curse follow you to the place you will go to. {springs, throws hand over her moidh a short struggle then strangles her and then she falls to the stage. Edwin staggers back.) This makes three murders — two more, and I am free as I was e're I begun this criminal life— ah! how long ago it seems, it is better I should be rid of her. I now have her property, as I can easily forge her signature. {Enters Qudiipfrom UE of F. 47. GuDLiP— We must fly flp. It is our only hope. Sam Rtel, the younjj: detective is now iu lb s very building, ready to arrest us, when we come down stairs. He bas fifty re^ula'or guHrds, with him and we cannot ibink of flgbting. Wbat ails her? Edwin— D^ ad. GUDL.1P— Great Heavens ! did you murder her too? Edwin— Yep— ju?t to krep my hand in. But come; there is not a moment to he lo^t. GuDLiP— No, not a monient is lo be lo.«t. Fdvvin — Cnme, let's quite and lock up this room, and go up into the attic. PerbMps we may find a trypout utonthe loof, by wbi< h we can evade the the detectives vigilance, wben'you must churttr a conveyance to tmrry u«« to the n^^arest railroad station'. {Boff' exit R2E Bob Lohq find Scnn r\eel ertterf <>m t A of F. B b walks over to Florence and kneels down beside her. Bob— 8he bas lieen d'Oked to death, {drj/ing tears) Poor girl. Had she but cbo<>en me iM&tt-ad of him. But we must not tarry here Sara. The domons have escaped by son e unknown avenue ^nd may even now be fleeing from town. I will go in pursuit; you remain here and see that p >or Florence bas a respectable l»urial. Ifys though praying Tableau, droop curtain, raising curtain. 48. -A-OTXr BcEHJBl—A streetinlO.j Edwin and Gudlip enter from RIE. Edwin— Free, we have escaped tbem at last! But I would feel more contented if we were ia New York, as there we could have a better show to conceal ourselves. GuDLip— Y- night yet. Bob — {from outside) I oall her my v^et, and you con bet {enters from UU of F.) Hellow! h^ s your dear, dear father changed his mind \e ? {enters Mr. Melvin and Sam, Reed from BSE,) Mr. M -Yes, her dear papa has cnanged his mind and give his daughter to you. Bob— Yon do ? Mr. M— Yes T do and I ask you to f'>rgi\'e jx e for the hasty words of a few hours ago Bob — I frogive you freely, {Bob and Ridk ('. of stage.) There is but one thing I would iike t know, and that is where is my friend Isaac Isaacs {Enters Isaac Isaacs from. UE of F.) Isaac— He vas here. Bob — Now as you are oere perhaps you will tell me why you have always gave me m( d ?3 whenever I needed it. Isaac— Yah Bob, my poy, vile I vas spoken roit you, I dells you sumt'ngs vat you don't know. Your uncle Ral[ h Long made too wills — one in de forenoon off der 15th of May, unt one in der after- noon off der same day. Ter first one left aid der broberty mit Edwin Shames, an vas locked up mit der safe; der hat one left in all mit you, so helb me gracious. Dis last vill der old man, who vas a vriend mit me he blaced in my care, along mit me dirty tousands dollars in cash vich I vas to keep mit you got old twenty-one years. Yo see ash how Ralph Long vasn't afraid der trust der old Jewsharp, because ash vot he knew Isaac vas an honest man. Veil he vanted Edwin Shames ter have der broberty ondil you vas twenty-onet den if Edwin Shames, proved ter be a square sor, 53. off a veller, I vash ter giff*you der dirty t'ousands dollars in cash; unt distroy der vill I held, vich sdill left all der broberty ter Edwin Shames, but if der Edwin Shames, turned out ter pe a pad case off lemberger cheese, I vas ter broduce der vill, unt der vitnesses, unt put you in Edwin Snames, place. Dis I should hafFdone; put now der veller vas dead, unt der vos no use ter keep der secret any longer. Bob.— And a right good friend you have been to me, in my checkesed experience, Lsaac {shaking hands) and I shall not soon forget your kindness. My career for three years back has been rather a questionable one, and Jew though you are, you have indeed proven you i self an honest man and none of my friends can 1 respect greater than you — ycu shall not go unrewarded. Isaac— Eh? was you say? Reward me? Oh ! not mooch, poy! If you shust vant to insult Isaac, visper sometiugs apoud reward again, aut see in vat beautiful style dis jewsharp vill club you! Oh! shimming gracious, I put a balcony offer mit your eye, like a grossage I vant no re- ward you pet your sauer-krout on dose. I unt Ralph Long vas vriends, unt dot vas enough! Bob — Well, all right, we won't quarrel over it. I gue.^s you ah haAe heard his story and I hope it will not be long before Bob Long the Boy Phoenix, will be forgiven in the past. And you now see standing by my right side my right bower Isaaclsaacs, the German Jew. Sam Reel. Isaac Isaacs. Mr. Mel vine. Bob Long & Ruth Melvin. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 016 102 436 3