Julia.
Well, perhaps you could adjust the shutters at the large door so that
we'd get more fresh air in here.
Pierre.
Even that would be dangerous. If some one happened to be looking this
way and saw the movement----
Julia (_going to the door_).
One has to do it slowly, ve-ry slow-ly-- (_She starts, uttering a low
cry of fear, and retreats to the foreground, her arms outstretched as
if she were warding off a ghost._)
Pierre.
What's the matter?
Julia.
Sh! Sh! (_Approaches him cautiously, then softly._) There's a man--out
there.
Pierre.
Where?
Julia.
Hush! Come here you can see it against the light. (_They cautiously
change places_. Pierre _utters a low shriek, then_ Julia, _softly,
despairingly_) Pierre!
Pierre.
It must be the gardener.
Julia.
It's not--the--gardener.
Pierre.
Who is it then?
Julia.
Creep around--and lock--the glass door.
Pierre (_weak from fright_).