Her bells pealed. Mrs. Fancy began to sob.
“Me to leave the house!” she wailed. “Me to go to prison!”
“Bear up, Mrs. Fancy, she doesn’t know who it is!” said Gustavus. “Ma’am! Ma’am! Missis! Missis!”
“I am ringing,” said Mrs. Merillia, in a muffled manner through the door. “I am summoning assistance! You will be captured if you don’t go away.”
And again she pealed her bells. This time, as she did so, the tingling of a third bell became audible in the silent house.
“Lord!” cried Gustavus, “if there isn’t the hall door. It must be master. He left his key to-night. Here’s a nice go!”
The three bells raised their piercing chorus. Mrs. Fancy sobbed, and Gustavus, after a terrible moment of hesitation, bounded down the hall. His instinct had not played him false. The person who had rung the bell was indeed the Prophet, who had basely slunk away from Zoological House, leaving Madame surrounded by her new and adoring friends.
“Thank you, Gustavus,” he said, entering. “Take my coat, please. What’s that?”
For Mrs. Merillia’s bells struck shrilly upon his astonished ears.
“I think it’s Mrs. Merillia, sir. She keeps on ringing.”