Jelnik, with feeling. And then:
"Sophy!" cried a frightened and hysterical voice. "Oh, is that you,
at last, Sophy?" And turning a corner of the gray cottage, Alicia,
Doctor Geddes, and The Author confronted us. They were still in
costume, and the Mephistophelian effect of The Author was such as
would turn any actor green with envy. Ensued a pregnant pause. It
was a lovely situation! It reduced me, for one, to idiocy.
"Sophy! Jelnik!" exploded Doctor Geddes, with a gesture of rage and
astonishment.
"Yes. It is I. What is the matter? Why aren't you home and in bed?
What are you doing here, at this hour?" I asked, stupidly.
Here The Author, all in red tights, cape, and doublet, snatched his
red cap with the cock's feather in it off his head, and bowed
diabolically:
"Let us ask you that same question: Why aren't _you_ home and in
bed? What are _you_ doing here at this hour?"
"After everybody had gone home, I ran up to your room,
Sophy--and--and you were gone. You weren't in the house. I looked
everywhere; and you'd disappeared, as if the earth had opened and
swallowed you." Alicia's voice was trembling.
"Oh, Sophy, I was so frightened, so horribly frightened! I kept
thinking every minute you must come.
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