Brodie. I am not consulting you, Mr. Hunt; ’tis you who are consulting me. And if there is nothing else (rising) in which I can pretend to serve you . . . ?
Hunt (rising). That’s about all, sir, unless you can put me on to anything good in the way of heckle and spur? I’d try to look in.
Brodie. O, come, Mr. Hunt, if you have nothing to do, frankly and flatly I have. This is not the day for such a conversation; and so good-bye to you. (A knocking, C.)
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.