_O’Fi._ Don’t interrupt an honest burst of feelin’ in an old military officer. For months I’ve looked forward like a simple ould soldier to meetin’ those bills, and now I’ve destroyed them, and deproived meself of a pleasure which might have lasted me the next twenty years! But I’ll expose him. It’s a croime of some sort, pretendin’ to be dead when ye’re not. It’s obtainin burial under false pretences, if it’s nothing else! What’s that? _Mat._ (_with paper in her hand_). It’s his will! (_Laughing._) _O’Fi._ (_indignantly_). His will! _Mat._ Yes; would ye have a gintleman doi without a will? _O’Fi._ A gintleman! A beggarly scoundrel! (_Opens it._) Ha, ha! He leaves ye everything, Matilda! It’s duly signed and witnessed, all quite in form! By my soul, I congratulate ye on yer accession to fortune and prosperity! _Mat._ It’s just done to give colour to his death. Don’t be hasty, dear. It’s the first time I’ve been mentioned in a will, and maybe it’ll be the last. (_Laughing._) _O’Fi._ (_furious_). Mentioned in a will! It’s an outrage--a sacrilege, I tell ye--an insult to a simple ould officer and his deluded gyurl, to mention them in a swindlin’ document that’s not worth the ink it’s written with! This is how I treat it, Matilda. (_Crumpling it up._) This is how I treat it (_throws it in the fire_); and if that thief, Tom Cobb, was here, I’d crumple him too and send him after it! _Enter WHIPPLE, breathless and much excited._ _Whi._ Oh, Colonel! _O’Fi._ Well, sorr? _Whi._ Here’s news! My old man, the ugly old man who always went by the name of Tom Cobb---- _O’Fi._ Well, sorr? _Whi._ He died last night! Poor ugly old Tom Cobb died last night. _Mat._ We know all about it; we knew it half an hour ago. _Whi._ Yes, Matilda, but you don’t know this: I went to his cottage this morning, and on the bed I found a hasty scrawled note written by the old man just before he died. (_COLONEL becomes interested._) It contained these words, “Look under the fireplace.” I got a crowbar, raised the hearth, and under it I found gold--gold,--silver and bank-notes in profusion! No end of gold--you could roll in it, you could roll in it! And he hasn’t a friend or relation in the world! [_COLONEL O’FIPP, during the last few lines, has hurriedly snatched the will out of the fire, and smoothed it out, unobserved. He produces it with a dignified air._ _Whi._ What’s that? _O’Fi._ This, sorr, is the poor old gintleman’s will, in which he leaves everything to my beloved daughter. _Whi._ But that’s not _old_ Tom Cobb’s will! That’s the will young Tom Cobb made in fun just now! _O’Fi._ Sorr, old Tom Cobb’s dead, and here’s a will signed “Tom Cobb.” Put that and that together, and what d’ye make of it? [_WHIPPLE falls into a chair amazed._ ACT II. SCENE.--_The same room in COLONEL O’FIPP’S house, but very handsomely furnished. Pictures, busts, etc. Writing materials on one table; sherry and glasses on another._