BRODIE. It is my purpose; the day after to-morrow. It cannot be before. Then I will fly; and O, as God sees me, I will strive to make a new and a better life, and to be worthy of your friendship, and of your tears . . . your tears. And to be worthy of you too, Jean; for I see now that the bandage has fallen from my eyes; I see myself, O how unworthy even of you. LESLIE. Why not to-night? BRODIE. It cannot be before. There are many considerations. I must find money. JEAN. Leave me, and the wean. Dinna fash yoursel’ for us. LESLIE (_opening the strong-box_, _and pouring gold upon the table_). Take this and go at once. BRODIE. Not that . . . not the money that I came to steal! LAWSON. Tak’ it, William; I’ll pay him. BRODIE. It is in vain. I cannot leave till I have said. There is a man; I must obey him. If I slip my chain till he has done with me, the hue and cry will blaze about the country; every outport will be shut; I shall return to the gallows. He is a man that will stick at nothing. SCENE VII _To these_, MOORE MOORE. Are you coming? BRODIE. I am coming. MOORE (_appearing in the door_). Do you want us all to get thundering well scragged? BRODIE (_going_). There is my master. * * * * * ACT-DROP ACT IV. TABLEAU VII. THE ROBBERY _The Stage represents the outside of the Excise Office in Chessel’s Court_. _At the back_, _L.C._, _an archway opening on the High Street_. _The door of the Excise in wing_, _R._; _the opposite side of the stage is lumbered with barrels_, _packing-cases_, _etc._ _Moonlight_; _the Excise Office casts a shadow over half the stage_. _A clock strikes the hour_. _A round of the City Guard_, _with halberts_, _lanterns_, _etc._, _enters and goes out again by the arch_, _after having examined the fastenings of the great door and the lumber on the left_. _Cry without in the High Street_: ‘_Ten by the bell_, _and a fine clear night_.’ _Then enter cautiously by the arch_, SMITH _and_ MOORE, _with_ AINSLIE _loaded with tools_. SCENE I SMITH, MOORE, AINSLIE SMITH (_entering first_). Come on. Coast clear. MOORE (_after they have come to the front_.) Ain’t he turned up yet? SMITH (_to_ AINSLIE). Now Maggot! The fishing’s a going to begin. AINSLIE. Dinna cangle, Geordie. My back’s fair broke. MOORE. O muck! Hand out them pieces. SMITH. All right, Humptious! (_To_ AINSLIE.) You’re a nice old sort for a rag-and-bone man: can’t hold a bag open! (_Taking out tools_.) Here they was. Here are the bunchums, one _and_ two; and jolly old keys was they. Here’s the picklocks, crow-bars, and here’s Lord George’s pet bull’s eye, his old and valued friend, the Cracksman’s treasure! MOORE. Just like you. Forgot the rotten centrebit. SMITH. That’s all you know. Here she is, bless her! Portrait of George as a gay hironmonger.