Bishop. One must do a great deal for the devil, in order to do a little for God.
Convict (angrily) I don't want any damned religion I tell you.
Bishop. Won't you lie down now, it is late.
Convict (grumbling) Well all right, but I won't be preached at, I—I (on couch) You're sure no one will come?
Bishop. I don't think they will, but if they do—you yourself have locked the door.
Convict. Humph! I wonder if it's safe, (he goes to the door and tries it, then turns and sees the Bishop holding the covering, annoyed) Here! you go to bed. I'll cover myself (the Bishop hesitates) Go on, I tell you.
Bishop. Good night, my son. (Exit l.)
(Convict waits till he is off then tries the Bishop's door).
Convict. No lock of course. Curse it. (looks round and sees the candlesticks again) Humph! I'll have another look at them (he takes them up and toys with them) Worth hundreds I'll warrant. If I had these turned into money they'd start me fair. Humph! The old boy's fond of them too, said his mother gave him them. His mother, yes. They didn't think of my mother when they sent me to Hell. He was kind to me too—but what's a Bishop for except to be kind to you. Here, cheer up, my hearty, you're getting soft. God! wouldn't my chain mates laugh to see 15729 hesitating about collaring the plunder because he felt good. Good! Ha! ha! Oh my God! Good! Ha! ha! 15729 getting soft. That's a good one. Ha! ha! No, I'll take his candlesticks and go, if I stay here he'll preach at me in the morning and I'll get soft. Damn him and his preaching too. Here goes! (he takes the candlesticks, stows them in his coat and cautiously Exits l. c. as he does so the door slams).
Persome (without) Who's there? Who's there I
