_Reba_

I'll make you see me!

(_Runs to table, leaps upon it and begins a dance among the wires and bottles. He is stunned for a moment, then rushes to her, seizes her waist with both hands, lifts her up, and flings her to a chair._)

_Philo_

Sit there, you dragon-fly! Or I'll crush you! (_Goes to window, as if for breath and air. Recovers poise._) Let them think me mad. Up here I shall work it out. And I shall not be alone. Earth will not hear me, but the heavens will listen. (_Holds his hands toward the stars._) My only friends!

_Reba_

Crush me! (_She steals up to the table, seizes a large book, and brings it down with utter destruction upon his machine._ PHILO _turns and sees.

They face each other. She shrinks, terrified._) Don't, Philo! (_Kneels, throwing back her head, showing the long line of her throat._) Forgive me! It was driving you mad! I wanted to save you! Don't look like that!

Forgive me, Philo!

_Philo_

Your throat--is--so white!

(_Seizes and chokes her. As he seizes her she gives a cry of terror._ WARNER, MRS. W., SEYMOUR, _and_ BELLOWS _rush up the stairs and enter._ PHILO _takes his hands from the girl's throat and stands apart. She lies motionless._)

_Warner_ (_roaring_)

You've managed, Mary Ann!

_Bellows_ (_excitedly_)

Who's right, now, Seymour?

(SEYMOUR _bends over_ REBA, _listening for her heart-beat._)

_Warner_ (_choking_)

A hanging in the family!

_Mrs. W._

Is she--dead?

_Seymour_

No. It is chiefly fear. (_Works over her body._)

_Philo_ (_to himself_)

Poor little bird! Poor little bird!

_Bellows_ (_taking a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and offering them to_ WARNER)

Better clap these on him. We're none of us safe.

_Philo_

Handcuffs, doctor? I'll make no trouble.

(_Holds out his hands and_ BELLOWS _fastens handcuffs._)

_Bellows_

It's for your own good, Philo.

_Seymour_

Our mistake--our mistake! Poor boy!

_Bellows_

Poor _girl_, I should say!

_Seymour_ (_lifting_ REBA)

I'll take her down-stairs. (_Carries her to door._) I shall need you, Mrs. Warner.

(MRS. W. _follows, weeping and looking back at_ PHILO.)

_Philo_

I'm all right, mother.

_Mrs. W._

_All right._ Oh, G.o.d help him! (_Exit._)

_Bellows_

Clean mad!

_Philo_ (_crosses, and looks down on the wreck of his machine_)

Silent ... but I have heard! The divine whisper has reached me!

_Bellows_

That's still on his mind, you see. Better leave him up here till morning. Seymour and I will fix up the papers and take him off to-morrow. I'm sorry, Philo, but you know it's for the best.

_Philo_

I'll make no trouble. Don't worry, doctor.