No—we—ah—shall not be disturbed. [To himself.] Good heavens, suppose I never see him alive again!
Agatha Posket.
[Sighing wearily.] Ah!
Lukyn.
I’m afraid you’ve come to tell me Posket is ill.
Agatha Posket.
I—no—my husband is at home.
[A sharp gust of wind is heard with the rain.
Lukyn.
Lord forgive me! I’ve killed him.