“And would you believe it, my love?” continued the schoolmistress; “the inspector tells me I have no means of getting quit of the wretches but by an action of ejectment, and that will take a year at least; so, do you know, he advises me”—and here the lady looked towards the door, to satisfy herself that no one was within hearing—“do you know, my dear, he advises me, I say”—but, to satisfy herself that the communication she was about to make could not be overheard, the lady rose from her seat, and opened the music-room door to see whether any one were in the passage listening—“he advises, I repeat, if I find I cannot get them out of the house by any other means, to offer them, first, ten pounds to go, and even to go as high as fifty, rather than allow them to continue under the roof; though of course, my love, for obvious reasons, I don’t want this to be known to a soul beside ourselves, for, if it should get to the ears of any of the gang, why of course they wouldn’t stir a foot until I had given them the whole fifty. And you’d hardly credit it, my dear, but the inspector—he really is a very nice, agreeable man, and the poor fellow lost his wife last Easter holidays—he tells me that the wretches of Frenchmen might, if they chose, open a show in my best bed-room. Oh! my dear child, think of that! So pray, for gracious sake! do be cautious not to let a word of this escape your lips; for, should they but come to hear, by any accident, what lengths the law will allow them to go to, they would never leave the place until they had succeeded in draining me of my last penny.”
Here again the cover of the celestial globe was seen to shake its side violently, as if internally convulsed with laughter—when Miss Wewitz, observing the glances of her pupil to be turned in that direction, suddenly perceived that the globe still remained uncovered.
“My dear Miss Chutney!” she exclaimed, “how forgetful you are—do you see that you have left the case off the globe; and are you aware that those things cost a great deal of money.”
“Oh, if you please, ma’am,” stammered the East Indian, “a—a—I was—em—a—waiting for you just to show to me which was the dragon that is so near the bear, if you please, ma’am.”
“That will do another time, Miss Chutney,” answered the schoolmistress, pettishly; “for really I have something else to think of just now—so pray put the cover on—there’s a good child.”
“But I shall only want to be taking it off again directly, if you please; for as to-night promises to be very fine, I’m going to see if I can learn the stars by the aid of this globe,” exclaimed Miss Chutney, starting from her seat, so as to be ready to prevent Miss Wewitz going towards the cover.
“Very well, my dear girl, just as you like,” added the schoolmistress; “but as it wants some hours yet till night, it will surely be as well to cover it up. Are you aware that those globes cost me £15 at Miss Peabody’s sale, just after her bankruptcy; and that if by accident they got scratched, they would not be worth one penny. Now pray don’t let me have to speak again, but do put on the case immediately.”
“Yes, ma’am; but really it is so heavy, that I shall only be obliged to come and trouble you to take it off for me again in an hour or two; and you needn’t be alarmed, I will see that no harm comes to the celestial globe;” and then, perceiving Miss Wewitz about to get up from her chair, Miss Chutney hurried towards her, and leaned over, with pretended regard for her, but really and truly to keep her close fixed to her seat.
Miss Wewitz was too shrewd a woman not to perceive, by her pupil’s manner, that she had some secret motive for wishing the globe to remain uncovered; so, laying her work down, she said, in her most dignified manner, “If Miss Chutney has not strength enough to put the case on the globe, after having had quite strength enough to take it off, why Miss Wewitz must do it for her, I suppose;” so saying, the lady made an effort to rise; whereupon Miss Chutney clung round her neck more tightly than ever, and the tighter she clung, the harder Miss Wewitz struggled to get from her. At length, however, she succeeded in freeing herself from her embraces, when the terrified girl gave a loud shriek, and immediately, to Miss Wewitz’s inexplicable horror, she beheld the dome-like cover of the globe heave and heave, and finally rise up and rush out of the room, with a pair of black pantaloons dangling beneath it.
It was now Miss Wewitz’s turn to scream, which she did louder and sharper than Miss Chutney had screamed before her—crying frantically, “There’s a man in the house!—there’s a man!—there’s a man!—there’s a man!” and then, determined to solve the mystery, she set off after the two-legged cover of the globe as fast as her own legs would carry her. The first object of M. le Comte de Sanschemise was to make for the stairs that led to his bed-room; but with the huge leathern cover of the globe over his head, and reaching nearly to his knees, it was impossible for him to tell the direction in which he was going. In his eagerness to escape detection, he ran towards the top of the kitchen stairs, instead of the bottom of those that led to the upper part of the house; and Miss Wewitz had just reached the music-room door when she saw him precipitated headlong down the flight; and heard him afterwards, as he got near to the bottom, go bump, bump—rolling heavily from stair to stair, almost like the globe whose place he had taken.