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

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 Court: “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, crowbars, 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 centre-bit.

Smith. That’s all you know. Here she is, bless her! Portrait of George as a gay hironmonger.

Moore. O, rot! Hand it over, and keep yourself out of that there thundering moonlight.

Smith (lighting lantern). All right, old mumble-peg. Don’t you get carried away by the fire of old Rome. That’s your motto. Here are the tools, a perfect picter of the sublime and beautiful; and all I hope is that our friend and pitcher, the Deakin, will make a better job of it than he did last night. If he don’t, I shall retire from the business – that’s all; and it’ll be George and his little wife and a black footman till death do us part.

Moore. O, muck! You’re all jaw like a sheep’s jimmy. That’s my opinion of you. When did you see him last?

Smith. This morning; and he looked as if he was rehearsing for his own epitaph. I never see such a change in a man. I gave him the office for to-night; and was he grateful? Did he weep upon my faithful bosom? No; he smiled upon me like a portrait of the dear departed. I see his ’art was far away; and it broke my own to look at him.

Moore. Muck! Wot I ses is, if a cove’s got that much of the nob about him, wot’s the good of his working single-handed? That’s wot’s the matter with him.

Smith. Well, old Father Christmas, he ain’t single-handed to-night, is he?

Moore. No, he ain’t; he’s got a man with him to-night.

Smith. Pardon me, Romeo: two men, I think?

Moore. A man wot means business. If I’d ’a’ bin with him last night, it ain’t psalm-singin’ would have got us off. Psalm-singin’? Muck! Let ’em try it on with me.

Ainslie. Losh me, I heard a noise. (Alarm; they crouch into the shadow and listen.)

Smith. All serene. (To Ainslie.) Am I to cut that liver out of you? Now, am I? (A whistle.) ’St! here we are. (Whistles a modulation, which is answered.)

SCENE II

To these, Brodie

Moore. Waiting for you, Deacon.

Brodie. I see. Everything ready?

Smith. All a-growing and a-blowing.

Brodie. Give me the light. (Briefly examines tools and door with bull’s-eye.) You, George, stand by, and hand up the pieces. Ainslie, take the glim. Moore, out and watch.

Moore. I didn’t come here to do sentry-go, I didn’t.

Brodie. You came here to do as I tell you. (Moore goes up slowly.) Second bunch, George. I know the lock. Steady with the glim. (At work.) No good. Give me the centre-bit.

Smith. Right. (Work continues. Ainslie drops lantern.)

Brodie. Curse you! (Throttling and kicking him.) You shake, and you shake, and you can’t even hold a light for your betters. Hey?

Ainslie. Eh, Deacon, Deacon…

Smith. Now, Ghost! (With lantern.)

Brodie. ’St, Moore!

Moore. Wot’s the row?

Brodie. Take you the light.

Moore (to Ainslie). Wo’ j’ yer shakin’ at? (Kicks him.)

Brodie (to Ainslie). Go you, and see if you’re good at keeping watch. Inside the arch. And if you let a footfall past, I’ll break your back. (Ainslie retires.) Steady with the light. (At work with centre-bit.) Hand up number four, George. (At work with picklock.) That has it.

Smith. Well done, our side.

Brodie. Now the crowbar! (At work.) That’s it. Put down the glim, Badger, and help at the wrench. Your whole weight, men! Put your backs to it! (While they work at the bar, Brodie stands by, dusting his hands with a pocket-handkerchief. As the door opens.) Voilà ! In with you.

Moore (entering with light). Mucking fine work too, Deacon!

Brodie. Take up the irons, George.

Smith. How about the P(h)antom?

Brodie. Leave him to me. I’ll give him a look. (Enters office.)

Smith (following). Houp-là !

SCENE III

Ainslie; afterwards Brodie; afterwards Hunt and Officers