LUCY BELLE (after a moment of hesitancy)
Dey’re in yere. Got ter git ’em ready. (Moves swiftly toward the door, Left. Jeff takes a step or two, as though he were going to follow her. She pauses as she places a hand on the door knob.) Only take a minute.
(She opens the door quickly, slides out and closes it. Something about her manner and the quickness with which she closes the door rouse Jeff’s suspicions. He stands—body tense—glaring after her. Absolute silence ensues. The lock in the door clicks. With a cry of rage Jeff leaps forward and tries to force the door open.)
JEFF (ferociously)
Open de do’! Open it—or I’ll knock yo’ haid off! Open it! (Muttering and cursing to himself he puts his shoulder against it and presses hard, but it fails to yield.) Open up! Open up!
(Baffled, at length he turns away, springs to Left Center, and grabs up a chair. Realizing, however, that it is perhaps not quite heavy enough for his purpose, he slowly sets it down, stands with his hands resting on its back, and looks about in search of a more formidable weapon. Suddenly shouts, the footsteps of people running, and the noises of panicky commotion issue from the alley, immediately off stage, Back. It proceeds down the alley, Left, and the noise rapidly lessens in volume, and distinctness. All at once the door, Back, bursts open and Slim dashes in. He bangs the door shut after him, and stands wild-eyed and breathing heavily.)
JEFF
W’at’s de mattah—?
SLIM (with a gulp—as he recognizes Jeff)