BRODIE. Now for one of the Deacon’s headaches! Rogues all, rogues all! (_Goes to clothes-press_, _and proceeds to change his coat_.) On with the new coat and into the new life! Down with the Deacon and up with the robber! (_Changing neck-band and ruffles_.) Eh God! how still the house is! There’s something in hypocrisy after all. If we were as good as we seem, what would the world be? [The city has its vizard on, and we—at night we are our naked selves. Trysts are keeping, bottles cracking, knives are stripping; and here is Deacon Brodie flaming forth the man of men he is!]—How still it is! . . . My father and Mary—Well! the day for them, the night for me; the grimy cynical night that makes all cats grey, and all honesties of one complexion. Shall a man not have _half_ a life of his own?—not eight hours out of twenty-four? [Eight shall he have should he dare the pit of Tophet.] (_Takes out money_.) Where’s the blunt? I must be cool to-night, or . . . steady, Deacon, you must win; damn you, you must! You must win back the dowry that you’ve stolen, and marry your sister, and pay your debts, and gull the world a little longer! (_As he blows out the lights_.) The Deacon’s going to bed—the poor sick Deacon! _Allons_! (_Throws up the window_, _and looks out_.) Only the stars to see me! (_Addressing the bed_.) Lie there, Deacon! sleep and be well to-morrow. As for me, I’m a man once more till morning. (_Gets out of the window_.) TABLEAU II. HUNT THE RUNNER _The Scene represents the Procurator’s Office_. SCENE I LAWSON, HUNT [LAWSON (_entering_). Step your ways in, Officer. (_At wing_.) Mr. Carfrae, give a chair to yon decent wife that cam’ in wi’ me. Nae news? A VOICE WITHOUT. Naething, sir. LAWSON (_sitting_). Weel, Officer, and what can I do for you?] HUNT. Well, sir, as I was saying, I’ve an English warrant for the apprehension of one Jemmy Rivers, _alias_ Captain Starlight, now at large within your jurisdiction. LAWSON. That’ll be the highwayman? HUNT. That same, Mr. Procurator-Fiscal. The Captain’s given me a hard hunt of it this time. I dropped on his marks first at Huntingdon, but he was away North, and I had to up and after him. I heard of him all along the York road, for he’s a light hand on the pad, has Jemmy, and leaves his mark. [I missed him at York by four-and-twenty hours, and lost him for as much more. Then I picked him up again at Carlisle, and we made a race of it for the Border; but he’d a better nag, and was best up in the road; so I had to wait till I ran him to earth in Edinburgh here and could get a new warrant.] So here I am, sir. They told me you were an active sort of gentleman, and I’m an active man myself. And Sir John Fielding, Mr. Procurator-Fiscal, he’s an active gentleman, likewise, though he’s blind as a himage, and he desired his compliments to you, [sir, and said that between us he thought we’d do the trick].