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.) Voilà! In with you.
Moore (entering with light). Mucking fine work too, Deacon!
Brodie. Take up the irons, George.