Ainslie. The haill set, mister.
Brodie. Liar!
Hunt. Mum, lads, and follow me. (Exit, with his men, into office. Brodie seen with dagger.)
Hunt (within). In the King’s name!
Moore (within). Muck!
Smith (within). Go it, Badger.
Hunt (within). Take ’em alive, boys!
Ainslie. Eh, but that’s awfu’. (The Deacon leaps out, and stabs him. He falls without a cry.)
Brodie. Saved! (He goes out by the arch.)