PEW (_sotto voce_). All snug. (_Coming down_.) So that was you, my young friend Christopher, as shot by me on the road; and so you was hot foot after old Pew? Christopher, my young friend, I reckon I’ll have the bowels out of that chest, and I reckon you’ll be lagged and scragged for it. (_At these words_ ARETHUSA _locks the door_, _and takes the key_.) What’s that? All still. There’s something wrong about this room. Pew, my ’art of oak, you’re queer to-night; brace up, and carry off. Where’s the tool? (_Producing knife_.) Ah, here she is; and now for the chest; and the gold; and rum—rum—rum. What! Open? . . . old clothes, by God! . . . He’s done me; he’s been before me; he’s bolted with the swag; that’s why he ran: Lord wither and waste him forty year for it! O Christopher, if I had my fingers on your throat! Why didn’t I strangle the soul out of him? I heard the breath squeak in his weasand; and Jack Gaunt pulled me off. Ah, Jack, that’s another I owe you. My pious friend, if I was God Almighty for five minutes! (GAUNT _rises and begins to pace the stage like a quarterdeck_, _L._) What’s that? A man’s walk. He don’t see me, thank the blessed dark! But it’s time to slip, my bo. (_He gropes his way stealthily till he comes to Gaunt’s table_, _where he burns his hand in the candle_.) A candle—lighted—then it’s bright as day! Lord God, doesn’t he see me? It’s the horrors come alive. (GAUNT _draws near and turns away_.) I’ll go mad, mad! (_He gropes to the door_, _stopping and starting_.) Door. (_His voice rising for the first time_, _sharp with terror_.) Locked? Key gone? Trapped! Keep off—keep off of me—keep away! (_Sotto voce again_.) Keep your head, Lord have mercy, keep your head. I’m wet with sweat. What devil’s den is this? I must out—out! (_He shakes the door vehemently_.) No? Knife it is then—knife—knife—knife! (_He moves with the knife raised towards_ GAUNT, _intently listening_, _and changing his direction as_ GAUNT _changes his position on the stage_.) ARETHUSA (_rushing to intercept him_). Father, father, wake! GAUNT. Hester, Hester! (_He turns_, _in time to see_ ARETHUSA _grapple_ PEW _in the centre of the Stage_, _and_ PEW _force her down_.) ARETHUSA. Kit! Kit! PEW (_with the knife raised_). Pew’s way! SCENE IV _To these_, KIT (_He leaps through window_, _R._, _and cuts_ PEW _down_. _At the same moment_, GAUNT, _who has been staring helplessly at his daughter’s peril_, _fully awakes_.) GAUNT. Death and blood! (KIT, _helping_ ARETHUSA, _has let fall the cutlass_. GAUNT_ picks it up and runs on_ PEW.) Damned mutineer, I’ll have your heart out! (_He stops_, _stands staring_, _drops cutlass_, _falls upon his knees_.) God forgive me! Ah, foul sins, would you blaze forth again? Lord, close your ears! Hester, Hester, hear me not! Shall all these years and tears be unavailing? ARETHUSA. Father, I am not hurt.