SCENE IV.—Another Room in the Blake’s Head.

Enter Gilbert, with lamp. R.

Gil. Well, I’ve looked all through the house, fastened the doors, hung up the keys, and now have nothing to do but to go and sleep until called up by the cock. Well I never saw love make so much alteration in any poor mortal as in master Grayling—he used to be a quiet, plain spoken civil fellow—but now he comes into a house like a hurricane. I wonder what that letter was about, it bothers me strangely—well, no matter—I’ll now go to bed—I’ll go across the stable yard to my loft, and sleep so fast that I’ll get ten hours into six.

[Exit L.

Enter Collins from C.D. in flat.

Col. A plague take that doctor, he has bound my arm up rarely—scarcely had I got into bed, than the bandage falling off, the blood gushed freshly from the wound; if I can reach Gilbert, he will assist me to stop it—or stay, had I not better return to master Gwinett, who as yet knows nothing of the matter? no, I’ll even make my way to Gilbert, and then to bed again.

[Exit L.

Enter Gwinett, from door in flat.

Gwin. I have armed myself—and am determined to meet the appointment; if there be any foul play intended, they will find me prepared, if not, the precaution is still a reasonable one—the latch is broken, said the landlord, the knife however will stead me.

[Exit R.

[Collins cries without, “Murder! murder! within—Lucy! Gilbert! murder! murder!”—Lucy screams without, and rushes through door in flat, then runs on exclaiming

Lucy. Oh, heaven! my uncle’s murdered!

Servants and others run on. R.

Omnes. What say you, murdered! where?—how?—

Lucy. I know not—hearing his cries, I rushed into his room—he was not there, but his bed was steeped in blood.

Enter Grayling and Gilbert. L.

Gray. What cries are these? master Collins murdered! where is Gwinett?

Lucy. Alas! oh, heaven—he is—

Gray. Ah! let search be made.

Enter Gwinett. R.

Gray. He is the assassin.

Gwin. Villain! (rushes at Grayling—they struggle; Grayling wrenches a knife from Gwinett’s grasp; his coat files open, and the handkerchief stained with blood, falls out.)

Gray. Ah! this knife—

Lucy. It is my uncle’s—

Gray. Your uncle’s—behold the murderer!

[Gwinett stands petrified with horror, Lucy shrieks and turns away from him; Gilbert picks up the handkerchief stained with blood, and holds it at one side of Gwinett, whilst Grayling on the other, points to the knife with looks of mingled detestation and revenge.—Characters form themselves at back, &c.—End of Act I.