Ainslie. Just to make him rob the Excise, mister. They’re wicked, wicked men.
Hunt. And is he right for it?
Ainslie. Ay is he.
Hunt. By Jingo! When’s it for?
Ainslie. Dear, kind gentleman, I dinna rightly ken: the Deacon’s that sair angered wi’ me. I’m to get my orders frae Geordie the nicht.
Hunt. O, you’re to get your orders from Geordie, are you? Now look here, Ainslie. You know me. I’m Hunt the Runner: I put Jemmy Rivers in the jug this morning; I’ve got you this evening. I mean to wind up with the Deacon. You understand? All right. Then just you listen. I’m going to take these here bracelets off, and send you home to that celebrated bed of yours. Only, as soon as you’ve seen the Dook you come straight round to me at Mr. Procurator-Fiscal’s, and let me know the Dook’s views. One word, mind, and ... cl’k! It’s a bargain?
Ainslie.. Never you fear that. I’ll tak’ my bannet an’ come straucht to ye. Eh God, I’m glad it’s nae mair nor that to start wi’. An’ may the Lord bless ye, dear, kind gentleman, for your kindness! May the Lord bless ye!
Hunt. You pad the hoof.
Ainslie (going out). An’ so I wull, wulln’t I not? An’ bless, bless ye while there’s breath in my body, wulln’t I not?
Hunt (solus). You’re a nice young man, Andrew Ainslie. Jemmy Rivers and the Deacon in two days! By Jingo! (He dances an instant gravely, whistling to himself.) Jerry, that ’ere little two hundred of ours is as safe as the bank.