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[_To GEORGIANA._] How dare you confront me without even the semblance of a blush--you who have enabled my innocent babies, for the first time in their lives, to discharge one of their own accounts.
GEORGIANA.
There isn't a blush in our family--if there were, you'd want it.
[_SHEBA and SALOME appear outside the window, looking in._
SIR TRISTRAM.
Jedd, you were once my friend, and you are to be my relative.
THE DEAN.
[_Looking at GEORGIANA._] My sister! [_To SIR TRISTRAM._] I offer no opposition.
SIR TRISTRAM.
But not even our approaching family tie prevents my designating you as one of the most atrocious conspirators known in the history of the Turf.
THE DEAN.
Conspirator!
SIR TRISTRAM.
As the owner of one-half of Dandy d.i.c.k, I denounce you!
GEORGIANA.
As the owner of the other half, _I_ denounce you!
THE DEAN.
You!
_SHEBA and SALOME enter, and remain standing in the recess, listening._
SIR TRISTRAM.
The chief ingredient of your infernal preparation is known.
THE DEAN.
It contains nothing that I would not cheerfully administer to my own children.
GEORGIANA.
[_In horror._] Oh!
SIR TRISTRAM.
I believe you. [_Pointing to the paper._] Strychnine! Sixteen grains!
SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
[_Clinging to each other terrified._] Oh!
THE DEAN.
Strychnine! Summon my devoted servant Blore, in whose presence the innocuous mixture was compounded. [_GEORGIANA rings the bell. The girls hide behind the window curtains._] This a.n.a.lysis is simply the pardonable result of over-enthusiasm on the part of our local chemist.
GEORGIANA.
You're a disgrace to the pretty little police station where you slept last night!
[_BLORE enters and stands unnoticed._
THE DEAN.
I will prove that in the Deanery Stables the common laws of hospitality have never been transgressed. Give me the bowl!
[_GEORGIANA hands THE DEAN the basin from the table._] A simple remedy for a chill.
GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.
Strychnine--sixteen grains!
THE DEAN.
I, myself, am suffering from the exposure of last night. [_Taking the remaining bolus and opening his mouth._] Observe me!
BLORE.
[_Rus.h.i.+ng forward, s.n.a.t.c.hing the basin from THE DEAN and sinking on to his knees._] No, no! Don't, don't! You wouldn't 'ang the holdest servant in the Deanery.
THE DEAN.
Blore!
BLORE.
I did it! I 'ad a honest fancy for Bonny Betsy, and I wanted this gentleman's 'orse out of the way. And while you was mixing the dose with the best ecclesiastical intentions, I hintroduced a foreign element.
THE DEAN.
[_Pulling BLORE up by his coat collar._] Viper!
BLORE.
