“No, the truth. So make up your mind quickly—your lover is false to you—which shall it be—life or death?”
“If life means life with you—then death a hundred times.”
Fieldfare: “Well, die, then—die!” And with a coward’s blow he pushed her over the river-bank.
Prompter: “Splash! Two handfuls of rice, and that’s your cue light, Mr. Cartwright.”
For a moment it seemed that the panic had deserted Aloysius, for he clattered up the steps three at a time, crying:
“Doris! Doris! Where are you? Doris, I say!”
Fieldfare: “H’st! Quickly away!” And he and his companion flitted into the shadows as Cartwright, like a human whirlwind, dashed on to the lock bridge.
Like a man distraught, he gripped the bridge rail and cried:
“Where are you, my love? Where are you?”
From the water below came a faint cry of: