Louis. Send out a street-crier for an accomplished forger? My poor Anne! We can only hope that the lieutenant on the quay may be drunk when he examines my dreadful "permit." Pray a great thirst upon him, my sister! [He looks at a watch which he draws from beneath his frock.] Four o'clock. At five the tide in the river is poised at its highest; then it must run out, and the Jeune Pierrette with it. We have an hour. I return to my crime. [He takes a fresh sheet of paper and begins to write.]
Anne [urgently]. Hurry, Louis!
Louis. Watch for Master Spy.
Anne. I cannot see him. [There is silence for a time, broken only by the nervous scratching of Louis's pen.]
Louis [at work]. Still you don't see him?
Anne. No. The people are dispersing. They seem in a good humor.
Louis. Ah, if they knew—[He breaks off, examines his latest effort attentively, and finds it unsatisfactory, as is evinced by the noiseless whistle of disgust to which his lips form themselves. He discards the sheet and begins another, speaking rather absently as he does so.] I suppose I have the distinction to be one of the most hated men in our country, now that all the decent people have left it—so many by a road something of the shortest! Yes, these merry gentlemen below there would be still merrier if they knew they had within their reach a forfeited "Emigrant." I wonder how long it would take them to climb the breakneck flights to our door. Lord, there'd be a race for it! Prize-money, too, I fancy, for the first with his bludgeon.
Anne [lamentably]. Louis, Louis! Why didn't you lie safe in England?
Louis [smiling]. Anne, Anne! I had to come back for a good sister of mine.
Anne. But I could have escaped alone.