Harris.
Yes, sir.
Messiter.
Go! [Harris stands still, tightly compressing his lips; Messiter quickly examines his face by the light of the lantern, then walks round the room, listening, and nodding his head with satisfaction as he passes the various hiding-places. Harris writhes in agony; in the end he gives it up and breathes heavily.] Harris!
Harris.
[Exhausted.] Yes, sir!
Messiter.
You’re breathing.
Harris.
Oh lor’, yes, sir!