Act 4 — SCENE IV

Hunt and Officers; with Smith and Moore handcuffed. Signs of a severe struggle

Hunt (entering). Bring ’em along, lads! (Looking at prisoners with lantern.) Pleased to see you again, Badger. And you too, George. But I’d rather have seen your principal. Where’s he got to?

Moore. To hell, I hope.

Hunt. Always the same pretty flow of language, I see, Hump. (Looking at burglary with lantern.) A very tidy piece of work, Dook; very tidy! Much too good for you. Smacks of a fine tradesman. It was the Deacon, I suppose?

Smith. You ought to know G. S. better by this time, Jerry.

Hunt. All right, your Grace: we’ll talk it over with the Deacon himself. Where’s the jackal? Here, you, Ainslie! Where are you? By jingo, I thought as much. Stabbed to the heart and dead as a herring!

Smith. Bravo!

Hunt. More of the Deacon’s work, I guess? Does him credit too, don’t it, Badger?

Moore. Muck. Was that the thundering cove that peached?

Hunt. That was the thundering cove.

Moore. And is he corpsed?

Hunt. I should just about reckon he was.

Moore. Then, damme, I don’t mind swinging!

Hunt. We’ll talk about that presently. M’Intyre and Stewart, you get a stretcher, and take that rubbish to the office. Pick it up; it’s only a dead informer. Hand these two gentlemen over to Mr. Procurator-Fiscal, with Mr. Jerry Hunt’s compliments. Johnstone and Syme, you come along with me. I’ll bring the Deacon round myself.

Act-Drop