“Hennessey! Hennessey!”
Gustavus and Malkiel stopped dead, as if they had both been shot. They now perceived that the door was partially open, and that a faint light shone within the room.
“Hennessey!” cried the voice of Mrs. Merillia again. “Come in here. I must speak to you.”
Gustavus darted on into the darkness of the Prophet’s room, but Malkiel the Second was so alarmed that he stayed where he was, finding himself totally incapable of movement.
“Hennessey!” repeated the voice.
Then there was a faint rustling, the door was opened more widely, and Mrs. Merillia appeared in the aperture, clad in a most charming night bonnet, and robed in a dressing-gown of white watered silk.
“The ratcatcher!” she cried. “The ratcatcher!”
Malkiel turned and darted down the stairs, while Mrs. Merillia, in the extreme of terror, shut her door, locked it as many times as she could, and then hastened trembling to the bell which communicated with the faithful Mrs. Fancy, rang it, and dropped half fainting into a chair. Mrs. Fancy woke from her second dream just as Malkiel, closely followed by the now shattered Gustavus, reached the hall.
“Hide me! Hide me!” whispered Malkiel. “In here!”
And he darted into the servants’ quarters, leaving Gustavus on the mat. Mrs. Merillia’s other bell now pealed shrilly downstairs. Gustavus paused and pulled himself together. He was by nature a fairly intrepid youth, and moreover, he had recently made a close study of Carlyle’s Heroes and Hero-worship, which greatly impressed him. He therefore resolved in this moment of peril to acquit himself in similar circumstances, and he remounted the stairs and reached Mrs. Merillia’s door just as Mrs. Fancy, wrapped in a woollen shawl and wearing a pair of knitted night-socks, descended to the landing, candle in hand.