Moore. Waiting for 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.)