Lawson. Whaur the deevil did ye hear that?
Brodie. Rogues all! Rogues all, Procurator!
Lawson. Ay, ay. Lord save us! Guidsake, to think o’ that noo!... Can ye give me some o’ that Cognac? I’m ... I’m sort o’ shaken, William, I’m sort o’ shaken. Thank you, William! (Looking piteously at glass.) Nunc est bibendum. (Drinks.) Troth, I’m set ajee a bit. Wha the deevil tauld ye?
Brodie. Ask no questions, brother. We are a pair.
Lawson. Pair, indeed! Pair, William Brodie! Upon my saul, sir, ye’re a brazen-faced man that durst say it to my face! Tak’ you care, my bonnie young man, that your craig doesna feel the wecht o’ your hurdies. Keep the plainstanes side o’ the gallows. Via trita, via tuta, William Brodie!
Brodie. And the brandy, Procurator? and the brandy?
Lawson. Ay ... weel ... be’t sae! Let the brandy bide, man, let the brandy bide! But for you and the trust-money ... damned! It’s felony. Tutor in rem suam, ye ken, tutor in rem suam. But O man, Deacon, whaur is the siller?
Brodie. It’s gone—O how the devil should I know? But it’ll never come back.
Lawson. Dear, dear! A’ gone to the winds o’ heaven! Sae ye’re an extravagant dog, too. Prodigus et furiosus! And that puir lass—eh, Deacon, man, that puir lass! I mind her such a bonnie bairn.