Macaire. I am an honest man: I stand upon my rights: search me; or search this person, of whom I know too little. (Smiting his brow.) By heaven, I see it all! This morning—(To Bertrand.) How, sir, did you dare to flaunt your booty in my very face? (To Brigadier.) He showed me notes; he was up ere day; search him, and you’ll find. There stands the murderer.
Bertrand. O, Macaire! (He is seized and searched and the notes are found.)
Brigadier. There is blood upon the notes. Handcuffs. (Macaire edging towards the door.)
Bertrand. Macaire, you may as well take the bundle. (Macaire is stopped by sentry, and comes front, R.)
Charles (re-appearing). Stop, I know the truth. (He comes down.) Brigadier, my father is not dead. He is not even dangerously hurt. He has spoken. There is the would-be assassin.
Macaire. Hell! (He darts across to the staircase, and turns on the second step, flashing out the knife.) Back, hounds! (He springs up the stair, and confronts them from the top.) Fools, I am Robert Macaire! (As Macaire turns to flee, he is met by the gendarme coming out of Number Thirteen; he stands an instant checked, is shot from the stage, and falls headlong backward down the stair. Bertrand, with a cry, breaks from the gendarmes, kneels at his side, and raises his head.)
Bertrand. Macaire, Macaire, forgive me. I didn’t blab; you know I didn’t blab.
Macaire. Sold again, old boy. Sold for the last time; at least, the last time this side death. Death—what is death? (He dies.)
CURTAIN
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at the Edinburgh University Press