BROWN. (_advancing to the front and showing his clothes wet through_) Soaked again!
BROWN. I’ve got ’em; they cost me a pound of cigars, but that’s not worth thinking about. (_showing a packet of cigars_)
O’WALKER. Certainly not. (_taking cigars_) Don’t think of ’em again.
BROWN. I look upon that as money well laid out.
O’WALKER. Decidedly well laid out! (_putting the cigars into his blue bag_) Now for the letters.
BROWN. (_producing letters tied up_) Here they are. To my surprise she gave them up without the slightest hesitation, and said she was very much obliged to me for taking the rubbish away.
O’WALKER. Rubbish! Ha, ha! (_forcing a laugh_)
BROWN. Yes; it seems she has been for some time past pestered with letters from a contemptible fellow with the vulgar name of O’Walker.
O’WALKER. Ha, ha, ha! (_aside_) This is pleasant!
BROWN. Yes; he signs himself “John Horatio O’Walker,” and she requested me as a particular favour to find Walker out at once, and give Walker a horsewhipping on her account as well as my own.
O’WALKER. Ah, ah, ah! (_aside_) This is remarkably agreeable.
BROWN. I said I would, and so I will. Take me to him. I’m sorry for your friend’s intimate friend’s friend, but I’ve a duty to perform; and that duty, as I said before, is instantly to sweep O’Walker off the surface of the earth! So come along.
_Enter MRS. JELLICOE, L., with BEADLE following_.
MRS. J. (_as she enters_) I’m sure I must have dropped it here. It’s a green reticule, with sixteen shillings and fourpence halfpenny in it, besides a pair of spectacles, two bunches of keys, a packet of envelopes, two buns, a silver thimble, six Queen’s heads, a bill of the play, and half a pint of nuts.
BEADLE. All right, ma’am—I gave it to that gentleman. (_points to O’WALKER_)
O’WALKER. (_very quickly and interrupting her_) Yes—yes. (_aside to her_) Don’t mention my name—you see that portly individual there— (_pointing to BROWN, who is standing with his back towards them_) Insane! sad case!—in early life fell in love with the Baron’s fair daughter, you’ve heard of her—she deceived him and married Walker, the twopenny postman, you’ve heard of him—it turned his brain—quiet as a lamb till he hears “Walker”—then raving mad in a moment!—the chances are, he’d murder me on the spot, and you too—I don’t know why he should, but he would!