Chapter 47

_To these, BRODIE_

MOORE. Waiting for you, Deacon.

BRODIE. I see. Everything ready?

SMITH. All a-growing and a-blowing.

BRODIE. Give me the light. (_Briefly examines tools and door with bull's-eye._) You, George, stand by, and hand up the pieces. Ainslie, take the glim. Moore, out and watch.

MOORE. I didn't come here to do sentry-go, I didn't.

BRODIE. You came here to do as I tell you. (_MOORE goes up slowly._) Second bunch, George. I know the lock. Steady with the glim. (_At work._) No good. Give me the centre-bit.

SMITH. Right. (_Work continues. AINSLIE drops lantern._)

BRODIE. Curse you! (_Throttling and kicking him._) You shake, and you shake, and you can't even hold a light for your betters. Hey?

AINSLIE. Eh, Deacon, Deacon....

SMITH. Now, Ghost! (_With lantern._)

BRODIE. 'St, Moore!

MOORE. Wot's the row?

BRODIE. Take you the light.

MOORE (_to AINSLIE_). Wo' j' yer shakin' at? (_Kicks him._)

BRODIE (_to AINSLIE_). Go you, and see if you're good at keeping watch. Inside the arch. And if you let a footfall past, I'll break your back. (_AINSLIE retires._) Steady with the light. (_At work with centre-bit._) Hand up number four, George. (_At work with picklock._) That has it.

SMITH. Well done, our side.

BRODIE. Now the crowbar! (_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!