"Not a bit of it!" says she, springing away from him to the other side of the screen. "And you, Randal, you are not hunting. Where's Colonel Neilson? Where's Margaret?"
"They changed," says Mr. Gower mendaciously. "Miss Hescott and I are upon the track; we are the bloodhounds—we," making another grab at her soft gown, "have got you!"
"No, you haven't," says Tita, whereupon there ensues a very animated chase round and round the screen, Tita at last finding shelter—of all places—behind her husband—behind Maurice, whose face it is quite as well she cannot see.
He makes a movement as if to go, but she catches him, and unless he were to use violence he could hardly get away.
"There now!" says she, addressing Rylton indignantly. "See how you've given us away. You've told him where we were. Don't stir. You mustn't. If you do he'll catch me."
She laughs defiantly at Gower as she says this. Gower could have laughed too. There could, indeed, be hardly anything stranger than the scene as it stands—comedy and tragedy combined. The husband cold, impassive, stern, and over his shoulder the charming face of his little wife peeping—all mirth and fun and gaiety.
"You must stay," says she, giving Sir Maurice a little shake. "Why, you've betrayed our hiding-place. You've shown him where we were. It isn't fair, Randal—it isn't indeed——"
"You are caught, any way," says Gower, who would willingly bring the scene to a close.
He can see Maurice's face, she cannot. As for Tom Hescott, his sister has chased him out of the gallery long before this, with a promptitude that does her credit.
"Caught! Not I," says Tita. "Caught, indeed!"