MACAIRE. If you will have it, I put it back in that old ass's pocket.
BERTRAND. Bitten, I think. (MACAIRE _dancing mad_.)
SCENE II
_To these_, DUMONT
DUMONT. Ah, friends, up so early? Catching the worm, catching the worm?
(Sitting on the table dissembling box and dissembling box . . .
MACAIRE. Good-morning, good-morning!
BERTRAND. Early birds, early birds.
DUMONT. By the way, very remarkable thing: I found the key.
MACAIRE. No!
BERTRAND. O!
DUMONT. Perhaps a still more remarkable thing: it was my key that had the twisted handle.
MACAIRE. I told you so.
DUMONT. Now, what we have to do is to get the cash-box. Hallo! what's that your sitting on?
BERTRAND. Nothing.
MACAIRE. The table! I beg your pardon.
DUMONT. Why, it's my cash-box!
MACAIRE. Why, so it is!
DUMONT. It's very singular.
MACAIRE. Diabolishly singular.
BERTRAND. Early worms, early worms!
DUMONT (_blowing in key_). Well, I suppose you are still willing to begone?
MACAIRE. More than willing, my dear soul: pressed, I may say, for time; for though it had quite escaped my memory, I have an appointment in Turin with a lady of title.
DUMONT (_at box_). It's very odd. (_Blows its key_.) It's a singular thing (_blowing_), key won't turn. It's a patent. Some one must have tampered with the lock (_blowing_). It's strangely singular, it's singularly singular! I've shown this key to commercial gentlemen all the way from Paris: they never saw a better key! (_more business_). Well (_giving it up and looking reproachfully on key_), that's pretty singular.
MACAIRE. Let me try. (_He tries_, _and flings down the key with a curse_.) Bitten.
BERTRAND. Sold again.
DUMONT (_picking up key_). It's a patent key.
MACAIRE (_to_ BERTRAND). The game's up: we must save the swag. (_To_ DUMONT.) Sir, since your key, on which I invoke the blight of Egypt, has once more defaulted, my feelings are unequal to a repetition of yesterday's distress, and I shall simply pad the hoof. From Turin you shall receive the address of my banker, and may prosperity attend your ventures. (_To_ BERTRAND.) Now, boy! (_To_ DUMONT.) Embrace my fatherless child! farewell! (MACAIRE _and_ BERTRAND _turn to go off and are met in the door by the_ GENDARMES.)
SCENE III
_To these_, _the_ BRIGADIER _and_ GENDARMES
BRIGADIER. Let no man leave the house.
MACAIRE (_aside_). Bitten.
BERTRAND (_aside_). Sold again.
DUMONT. Welcome, old friend!
BRIGADIER. It is not the friend that comes; it is the Brigadier. Summon your guests: I must investigate their passports. I am in pursuit of a notorious malefactor, Robert Macaire.
DUMONT. But I was led to believe that both Macaire and his accomplice had been arrested and condemned.
BRIGADIER. They were, but they have once more escaped for the moment, and justice is indefatigable. (_He sits at table R._) Dumont, a bottle of white wine.
MACAIRE (_to_ DUMONT). My excellent friend, I will discharge your commission, and return with all speed. (_Going_.)
BRIGADIER. Halt!
MACAIRE (_returning: as if he saw_ BRIGADIER _for the first time_). Ha?
a member of the force? Charmed, I'm sure. But you misconceive me: I return at once, and my friend remains behind to answer for me.
BRIGADIER. Justice is insensible to friendship. I shall deal with you in due time. Dumont, that bottle.
MACAIRE. Sir, my friend and I, who are students of character, would grasp the opportunity to share and-may one add?-to pay the bottle.
Dumont, three!
BERTRAND. For God's sake! (_Enter_ ALINE _and_ MAIDS.)
MACAIRE. My friend is an author: so, in a humbler way, am I. Your knowledge of the criminal classes naturally tempts one to pursue so interesting an acquaintance.
BRIGADIER. Justice is impartial. Gentlemen, your health.
MACAIRE. Will not these brave fellows join us?