The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson – Swanston Edition. Volume 15

Hunt. We’re going to have our little talk out first. After that perhaps I’ll let you go, and perhaps I won’t. It all depends on how we get along together. Now, in a general way, Andrew, and speaking of a man as you find him, I’m all for peace and quietness myself. That’s my usual game, Andrew, but when I do make a dust I’m considered by my friends to be rather a good hand at it. So don’t you tread upon the worm.

Ainslie. But I’m sayin’ —

Hunt. You leave that to me, Andrew. You shall do your pitch presently. I’m first on the ground, and I lead off. With a question, Andrew. Did you ever hear in your life of such a natural curiosity as a Bow Street Runner?

Ainslie. Aiblins ay an’ aiblins no.

Hunt. “Aiblins ay an’ aiblins no.” Very good indeed, Andrew. Now, I’ll ask you another: Did you ever see a Bow Street Runner, Andrew? With the naked eye, so to speak?

Ainslie. What’s your wull?

Hunt. Artful bird! Now since we’re getting on so cosy and so free, I’ll ask you another, Andrew: Should you like to see a Bow Street Runner? (Producing staff.) ’Cos, if so, you’ve only got to cast your eyes on me. Do you queer the red weskit, Andrew? Pretty colour, ain’t it? So nice and warm for the winter too. (Ainslie dives, Hunt collars him.) No, you don’t. Not this time. Run away like that before we’ve finished our little conversation? You’re a nice young man, you are. Suppose we introduce our wrists into these here darbies? Now we shall get along cosier and freer than ever. Want to lie down, do you? All right! anything to oblige.

Ainslie (grovelling). It wasna me, it wasna me. It’s bad companions; I’ve been lost wi’ bad companions an’ the drink. An’ O mister, ye’ll be a kind gentleman to a puir lad, and me sae weak, and fair rotten wi’ the drink an’ that. Ye’ve a bonnie kind heart, my dear, dear gentleman; ye wadna hang sitchan a thing as me. I’m no’ fit to hang. They ca’ me the Cannleworm! An’ I’ll dae somethin’ for ye, wulln’t I? An’ ye’ll can hang the ithers?

Hunt. I thought I hadn’t mistook my man. Now you look here, Andrew Ainslie, you’re a bad lot. I’ve evidence to hang you fifty times over. But the Deacon is my mark. Will you peach, or won’t you? You blow the gaff, and I’ll pull you through. You don’t, and I’ll scrag you as sure as my name’s Jerry Hunt.

Ainslie. I’ll dae onything. It’s the hanging fleys me. I’ll dae onything, onything no’ to hang.

Hunt. Don’t lie crawling there, but get up and answer me like a man. Ain’t this Deacon Brodie the fine workman that’s been doing all these tip-topping burglaries?

Ainslie. It’s him, mister; it’s him. That’s the man. Ye’re in the very bit. Deacon Brodie. I’ll can tak’ ye to his very door.

Hunt. How do you know?

Ainslie. I gi’ed him a han’ wi’ them a’. It was him an’ Badger Moore and Geordie Smith; an’ they gart me gang wi’ them whether or no: I’m that weak, and whiles I’m donner’d wi’ the drink. But I ken a’ an’ I’ll tell a’. And O kind gentleman, you’ll speak to their lordships for me, and I’ll no be hangit … I’ll no be hangit, wull I?

Hunt. But you shared, didn’t you? I wonder what share they thought you worth. How much did you get for last night’s performance down at Mother Clarke’s?

Ainslie. Just five pund, mister. Five pund. As sure’s deith it wadna be a penny mair. No’ but I askit mair: I did that; I’ll no’ deny it, mister. But Badger kickit me, an’ Geordie, he said a bad sweir, an’ made he’d cut the liver out o’ me, an’ catch fish wi’t. It’s been that way frae the first: an aith an’ a bawbee was aye guid eneuch for puir Andra.

Hunt. Well, and why did they do it? I saw Jemmy dance a hornpipe on the table, and booze the company all round, when the Deacon was gone. What made you cross the fight, and play booty with your own man?

Ainslie. Just to make him rob the Excise, mister. They’re wicked, wicked men.

Hunt. And is he right for it?

Ainslie. Ay is he.

Hunt. By Jingo! When’s it for?

Ainslie. Dear, kind gentleman, I dinna rightly ken: the Deacon’s that sair angered wi’ me. I’m to get my orders frae Geordie the nicht.

Hunt. O, you’re to get your orders from Geordie, are you? Now look here, Ainslie. You know me. I’m Hunt the Runner: I put Jemmy Rivers in the jug this morning; I’ve got you this evening. I mean to wind up with the Deacon. You understand? All right. Then just you listen. I’m going to take these here bracelets off, and send you home to that celebrated bed of yours. Only, as soon as you’ve seen the Dook you come straight round to me at Mr. Procurator-Fiscal’s, and let me know the Dook’s views. One word, mind, and … cl’k! It’s a bargain?

Ainslie.. Never you fear that. I’ll tak’ my bannet an’ come straucht to ye. Eh God, I’m glad it’s nae mair nor that to start wi’. An’ may the Lord bless ye, dear, kind gentleman, for your kindness! May the Lord bless ye!

Hunt. You pad the hoof.

Ainslie (going out). An’ so I wull, wulln’t I not? An’ bless, bless ye while there’s breath in my body, wulln’t I not?

Hunt (solus). You’re a nice young man, Andrew Ainslie. Jemmy Rivers and the Deacon in two days! By Jingo! (He dances an instant gravely, whistling to himself.) Jerry, that ’ere little two hundred of ours is as safe as the bank.

TABLEAU VI

Unmasked

The Stage represents a room in Leslie’s house. A practicable window, C., through which a band of strong moonlight falls into the room. Near the window a strong-box. A practicable door in wing, L. Candlelight

SCENE I

Leslie, Lawson, Mary, seated. Brodie at back, walking between the windows and the strong-box

Lawson. Weel, weel, weel, weel, nae doubt.

Leslie. Mr. Lawson, I am perfectly satisfied with Brodie’s word; I will wait gladly.

Lawson. I have nothing to say against that.

Brodie (behind Lawson). Nor for it.

Lawson. For it? for it, William? Ye’re perfectly richt there. (To Leslie.) Just you do what William tells you; ye canna do better than that.

Mary. Dear uncle, I see you are vexed; but Will and I are perfectly agreed on the best course. Walter and I are young. O, we can wait; we can trust each other.

Brodie (from behind). Leslie, do you think it safe to keep this strong-box in your room?

Leslie. It does not trouble me.

Brodie. I would not. ’Tis close to the window.

Leslie. It’s on the right side of it.

Brodie. I give you my advice: I would not.

Lawson. He may be right there too, Mr. Leslie.

Brodie. I give him fair warning: it’s not safe.

Leslie. I have a different treasure to concern myself about; if all goes right with that I shall be well contented.

Mary. Walter!

Lawson. Ay, bairns, ye speak for your age.

Leslie. Surely, sir, for every age: the ties of blood, of love, of friendship, these are life’s essence.

Mary. And for no one is it truer than my uncle. If he live to be a thousand, he will still be young in heart, full of love, full of trust.