Hunt. Half a tick, Badger. You’re a man of parts, you are; you’re solid, you’re a true-born Englishman; you ain’t a Jerry-go-Nimble like him. Do you know what your pal the Deacon’s worth to you? Fifty golden Georges and a free pardon. No questions asked, and no receipts demanded. What do you say? Is it a deal?
Moore (as to himself). Muck. (He goes out, R.)
SCENE IV
Hunt, to whom Ainslie
Hunt (looking after them ruefully). And these were the very parties I was looking for! [Ah, Jerry, Jerry, if they knew this at the office!] Well, the market price of that ’ere two hundred is a trifle on the decline and fall. (Looking L.) Hullo! (Slapping his thigh). Send me victorious! It’s king’s evidence on two legs. (Advancing with great cordiality to meet Ainslie, who enters L.) And so your name’s Andrew Ainslie, is it? As I was saying, you’re the very party I was looking for. Ain’t it strange, now, that I should have dropped across you comfortable and promiscuous like this?
Ainslie. I dinna ken wha ye are, an’ I’m ill for my bed.
Hunt. Let your bed wait, Andrew. I want a little chat with you; just a quiet little sociable wheeze. Just about our friends, you know. About Badger Moore, and George the Dook, and Jemmy Rivers, and Deacon Brodie, Andrew. Particularly Deacon Brodie.
Ainslie. They’re nae friens o’ mine’s, mister. I ken naething an’ naebody. An’ noo I’ll get to my bed, wulln’t I?
Hunt. We’re going to have our little talk out first. After that perhaps I’ll let you go, and perhaps I won’t. It all depends on how we get along together. Now, in a general way, Andrew, and speaking of a man as you find him, I’m all for peace and quietness myself. That’s my usual game, Andrew, but when I do make a dust I’m considered by my friends to be rather a good hand at it. So don’t you tread upon the worm.
Ainslie. But I’m sayin’—