MIZ. Why, Charley, what the deuce are you doing now?
BOLT. Disguising myself as a thief.
MIZ. I have not the slightest doubt of your being able to support the character. But why?
BOLT. To walk in after that respectable gentleman.
MIZ. I shall not follow—better be sent home than shot.
BOLT. There will be two of us.
MIZ. Yes, and he has two pistols—can blow out our brains in succession!—Highly advantageous.
BOLT. (Feeling pockets.) There are no weapons in these pockets. You had better follow.
NEW. (Within.) Where the devil are you?
MIZ. No I sha’n’t.