MRS. G. You vas go to betray me; _mais_ you perceive dis little machine? (_produces a pistol from her pocket_) GREEN. Oh, oh!--distinctly, Countess. MRS. G. Madame Grinfeench! GREEN. I beg pardon, Madame Grinfeench. Pray oblige me by pointing the other end of that article this way. I've an uncommonly weak head, and couldn't stand anything from that quarter. MRS. G. _Prenez garde_, then how you betray de _confiance_ I have put into you? GREEN. What confidence? I haven't the most distant idea of the object for which I have been brought here. MRS. G. Den I sall vispare at your ear dat you are flying from justice with a denounced leader of a secret club. GREEN. Me!--a Greenfinch flying from justice!--good gracious! what do you mean? MRS. G. _Ecoutez donc!_ de police break in on our meeting--de officier seize me to take me to quod. GREEN. And what did you do? MRS. G. Bang! shoot him through the nob--den one, two, tree jump out of de vindère. GREEN. Shot a police officer! (_aside_) I'm paralysed! MRS. G. Dey have offer large reward for my take; but if I voyager as your _femme_, I may _echappér_--bolt avay! But if ve are catch, ve vill die nobly--_oui_, mon Grinfeench, on de same scaffold--togedder ve vill hop de twig! (_clasps him in her arms_) GREEN. Her English is not very elegant, but it's very expressive. (_faintly_) I feel the guillotine hanging over me; I shall be sent back to Peckham Rye a head shorter than I left it. MRS. G. _Entendez bien_ that your safety as well as mine depends on your _taisez vous_. Remember dat from my chamber dere I can watch, and _ecoutez_ all dat sall pass here--den, if you go to spleet, I sall sew you up--bang! _Comprenez vous?_ (_shewing pistol, and exit, R._) GREEN. Yes, I _comprenez vous_--my safety depends on my _taisez vous_. What a dreadful situation is mine! If this is having an aristocratic flirtation, I don't care how soon I get democratic in my _penchants_ again. This terrible Countess is a perfect masked battery; I shouldn't wonder if she had a Colt's revolver inside her parasol, and that a cartouche box did duty for a certain popular appendix to the female figure. I declare I feel quite nervous and agitated--I'll go and smoke a cigar in the garden. (_takes a cigar from his case_) Hah! I wish they may ever catch me running away with a Countess again. _Exit through window at back, to garden, and disappears._ _BETSY looks from room R., and then enters, carrying a small brown trunk with an address card on the top._ BETSY. (_speaking to MRS. G. inside_) All's clear, mum! _Enter MRS. G. from room R._ He's smoking his cigar in the garden. Now here I lays the trap that's to catch him--your trunk, with your address upon it. (_puts trunk in centre of room_) MRS. G. So that when he sees it, he may be aware that I am here in my proper person.