The cabman and his companion were roused from their mirth by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. In their fear of discovery, it was the work of a moment for the driver to pull his wash-leather from his pocket, and endeavour, by rubbing at Miss Chutney’s face, to remove the black marks from it. This, however, had the effect of distributing the charcoal evenly over the whole of the young lady’s countenance, so that the operation served merely to transform her into a negress. But there was no time for the men to resort to more effectual means of cleaning the face of the model, so, letting fall the black crape, they began to prepare for the removal of the “figure” down stairs; and then Miss Chutney, to her indescribable horror, heard the men propose that one should take the “old gal” by the head, and the other by the feet. A dispute, however, arose as to the practicability of that measure, owing to the peculiar construction of the staircase, whereupon it was suggested by the driver, that the best way perhaps, after all, would be to have up the rope from the foot of the cab, and lower the thing down out of the window; and no sooner was this course agreed upon, than the men retired together for the cord with which to put it into execution. Immediately the driver and his companion had quitted the apartment, the terrified Chutney lifted up the long black robe of the Sister of Charity, and scampered off as fast as her legs, under the circumstances, could carry her. She had just reached the door, when the Count, who was hurrying back to her with all possible speed, ran bump against her, and, seizing her by the arm, exclaimed in as good English as he was master of— “_Mon petit chou!_ vot go you to do? _Reste tranquille_, je t’en prie! In von minoot you sall be mine for nevare!” “Oh, if I could tell you all!” she cried, falling into his arms; “take me away!” she whispered—“take me away! if you would not have me die!” “Silence! silence, mon ange! von leetel minoot more, and you sall be mine for nevare!” he said in her ear, as he lifted her in his arms, and proceeded to carry her down the stairs. In the passage, to the great discomfort of himself and the alarm of the girl, stood Miss Wewitz beside the door, determined to see the Frenchmen safe off the premises. Placing the girl carefully in the corner of the hall, with her face turned towards the wall, he whispered in her ear, “_Courage! courage! ma souris_;” and then requested to speak a word with the schoolmistress in the music-room, so that he might there occupy her with some little matter, while he returned and placed the trembling girl in the cab. The men no sooner perceived that the figure was in the passage, than they began arranging which was the best place to stow it in the cab; whereupon the half-dead Chutney was doomed once more to hear the driver and his companion discuss the most effectual plan of removing her from the premises.