you, Deacon.
BRODIE. I see. Everything ready?
SMITH. All a-growing and a-blowing.
BRODIE. Give me the light. (_Briefly examines tools and door with
bull's-eye._) You, George, stand by, and hand up the pieces. Ainslie,
take the glim. Moore, out and watch.
MOORE. I didn't come here to do sentry-go, I didn't.
BRODIE. You came here to do as I tell you. (_MOORE goes up slowly._)
Second bunch, George. I know the lock. Steady with the glim. (_At
work._) No good. Give me the centre-bit.
SMITH. Right. (_Work continues. AINSLIE drops lantern._)
BRODIE. Curse you! (_Throttling and kicking him._) You shake, and you
shake, and you can't even hold a light for your betters. Hey?
AINSLIE. Eh, Deacon, Deacon....
SMITH. Now, Ghost! (_With lantern._)
BRODIE. 'St, Moore!
MOORE. Wot's the row?
BRODIE. Take you the light.
MOORE (_to AINSLIE_). Wo' j' yer shakin' at? (_Kicks him._)
BRODIE (_to AINSLIE_). Go you, and see if you're good at keeping watch.
Inside the arch. And if you let a footfall past, I'll break your back.
(_AINSLIE retires._) Steady with the light. (_At work with centre-bit._)
Hand up number four, George. (_At work with picklock._) That has it.
SMITH. Well done, our side.
BRODIE. Now the crowbar! (_At work._) That's it. Put down the glim,
Badger, and help at the wrench. Your whole weight, men! Put your backs
to it! (_While they work at the bar, BRODIE stands by, dusting his hands
with a pocket-handkerchief. As the door opens._) _Voila!_ In with you.
MOORE (_entering with light_). Mucking fine work too, Deacon!
BRODIE. Take up the irons, George.
SMITH. How about the P(h)antom?
BRODIE. Leave him to me. I'll give him a look. (_Enters office._)
SMITH (_following_). Houp-la!
SCENE III
_AINSLIE; afterwards BRODIE; afterwards HUNT and OFFICERS_
AINSLIE. Ca' ye that mainners? Ye're grand gentry by your way o't! Eh
sirs, my hench! Ay, that was the Badger. Man, but ye'll look bonnie
hangin'! (_A faint whistle._) Lord's sake, what's thon? Ay, it'll be
Hunt an' his lads. (_Whistle repeated._) Losh me, what gars him whustle,
whustle? Does he think me deaf? (_Goes up. BRODIE enters from office,
stands an instant, and sees him making a signal through the arch._)
BRODIE. Rats! Rats! (_Hides L. among lumber. Enter noiselessly through
arch HUNT and OFFICERS._)
HUNT. Birds caught?
AINSLIE. They're a' ben the house, mister.
HUNT. All three?
AINSLIE. The haill set, mister.
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