“Really, Eliza, you are the most priceless creature! I don't wonder Joe was taken with you! Hush! There's the front-door bell; what do you suppose that is?”
They both listened, Kathleen at the dumb-waiter shaft and Eliza at the kitchen door. Eliza started to say something, but Kathleen waved her to be quiet. A heavy step sounded on the stair, and the agitated Mary appeared, followed by a huge policeman. Eliza, of course, recognized the Iron Duke, but the gas-light and the disguise prevented the latter from knowing his fellow venturer.
“What on earth is the matter?” said Kathleen.
“Please, Miss,” said the blue-coat, “your mother said there's a gas-man down here and I've been sent by headquarters to take him in charge. I think he's a sneak thief.”
“There's no such person here, officer,” said Kathleen.
Eliza still kept her sovereign wits about her. She advanced to the policeman, and whispering mysteriously “He's in here,” took his sleeve and led him to the cellar door.
“He's down there,” she repeated; “put the cuffs on him, quick!” She opened the door, and the doubtful policeman, hypnotized by her decision, stepped on to the cellar stairs. The door closed behind him, and again Eliza turned the key.
“What does all this mean?” demanded Kathleen, angrily. “Has everybody gone daft? Eliza, ever since you came into the house, there has been nothing but turmoil. I wish you would explain. Why have you sent the policeman into the cellar?”
“There's three dangerous counterfeiters down there, Miss,” said Eliza. “I want to tell you the truth about this, Miss Kathleen, before that American gets down here—he's bound to be here soon. He's the worst of the lot.”
“Open that door at once!” said Kathleen, stamping her foot. “I don't know what on earth you mean by counterfeiters, but if there are any down there, let's have them up, and see what they have to say.”