Dorothy. I heard the poor girl weeping down-stairs, and when I went to the dumb-waiter to ask her what was the matter, I heard—I heard a man's voice.
Yardsley. Man's voice?
Barlow. Man's voice is what Miss Andrews said.
Dorothy. Yes; it was Hicks, our coachman, and he was dreadfully angry about something.
Yardsley (sinking into chair). Good Lord! Hicks! Angry! At—something!
Dorothy. He was threatening to kill somebody.
Yardsley. This grows worse and worse! Threatening to kill somebody! D-did-did you o-over-overhear huh-huh-whom he was going to kuk-kill?
Barlow. What's the matter with you, Yardsley? Are you going to die of fright, or have you suddenly caught a chill?
Dorothy. Oh, I hope not! Don't die here, anyhow, Mr. Yardsley. If you must die, please go home and die. I couldn't stand another shock to-day. Why, really, I was nearly frightened to death. I don't know now but what I ought to send for the police, Hicks was so violent.
Barlow. Perhaps she and Hicks have had a lovers' quarrel.