Brodie. Now the crow bar! (At work.) That’s it. Put down the glim, Badger, and help at the wrench. Your whole weight, men! Put your backs to it! (While they work at the bar, Brodie stands by, dusting his hands with a pocket-handkerchief. As the door opens.) Voilà! In with you.
Moore (entering with light). Mucking fine work too, Deacon!
Brodie. Take up the irons, George!
Smith. How about the P(h)antom?
Brodie. Leave him to me. I’ll give him a look. (Enters office.)
Smith (following). Houp-là!
SCENE III
Ainslie; afterwards Brodie; afterwards Hunt and Officers
Ainslie. Ca’ ye that mainners? Ye’re grand gentry by your way o’t! Eh sirs, my hench! Ay, that was the Badger. Man, but ye’ll look bonnie hangin’! (A faint whistle.) Lord’s sake, what’s thon? Ay, it’ll be Hunt an’ his lads. (Whistle repeated.) Losh me, what gars him whustle, whustle? Does he think me deaf? (Goes up. Brodie enters from office, stands an instant, and sees him making a signal through the arch.)
Brodie. Rats! Rats! (Hides L. among lumber. Enter noiselessly through arch Hunt and Officers.)