She was using exactly the tone one might employ to coax a kitten out from hiding. This did not seem to mollify Ruthven in the slightest. “Greta,” he said, “what the hell is going on? If you’re going to wake me up at half past two with bloodcurdling shrieks when I’m already worried about you, at least have the decency to explain yourself. I gather that you are not in fact being murdered, but what are you doing?”
