35
PAWNBROKER Unhand me. The crest alone Belies you, Friend. Westphalen? You? I doubt it. Jew. MARX But these … PAWNBROKER (interrupting) Oh, please! Let’s not pretend. (suddenly slamming the case shut and calling to the back of the shop) My boys! Summon the police! MARX Police? Will horrors Never cease? (MARX grabs the suitcase and flees, as we once again see the SPY typing.) SPY Fourteenth August, Eighteen Seventy-one. The doer Undone. In debt and on the Run. (Attention off him and back to the house.)