Hunt. Servant, Mr. Deacon. (Smith and Moore, without waiting to be answered, open and enter, C. They are well into the room before they observe Hunt.) (Talk of the devil, sir!)
Brodie. What brings you here? (Smith and Moore, confounded by the officer’s presence, slouch together to right of door. Hunt, stopping as he goes out, contemplates the pair, sarcastically. This is supported by Moore with sullen bravado; by Smith with cringing airiness.)
Hunt (digging Smith in the ribs). Why, you are the very parties I was looking for! (He goes out, C.)
SCENE VIII
Brodie, Moore, Smith
Moore. Wot was that cove here about?
Brodie (with folded arms, half-sitting on bench). He was here about you.
Smith (still quite discountenanced). About us? Scissors! And what did you tell him?
Brodie (same attitude). I spoke of you as I have found you. (I told him you were a disreputable hound, and that Moore had crossed a fight.) I told him you were a drunken ass, and Moore an incompetent and dishonest boxer.