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 way 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 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 _h_image, and he desired his compliments to you (sir, and said that between us he thought we'd do the trick).