[He blows out the candles, and darts into the dressing-room as Tredwell enters.
Tred. The boy's right. He is in here; them candles is smouldering still. (He relights one, and looks under the bed.) You'd better come out o' that, Undershell, and give an account of yourself—do you 'ear me?... He ain't under there! (He tries the dressing-room door; Undershell holds his breath, and clings desperately to the handle.) Very well, Sir, I know you're there, and I've no time to trouble with you at present, so you may as well stay where you are till you're wanted. I've 'eard o' your goings-on from Mr. Adams, and I shall 'ave to fetch Sir Rupert up to 'ave a talk with you by-and-by.
[He turns the key upon him, and goes.
Und. (to himself, overwhelmed, as the Butler's step is heard retreating). And I came down here to assert the dignity of Literature!
"He suddenly comes face to face with his own reflection."
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
Accompanying Trilby.