“Mary,” she whispered to the maid, who had just come down from upstairs, “run tell the Mistress the gas-man is here again. I'll send him down the cellar.” And while Kathleen was still in the pantry and before the pseudo gas-man could demur, Eliza seized him by the coat and hurried him across the kitchen to the cellar door. She opened this and pointed downstairs. The bewildered gas-man disappeared down the steps and Eliza closed the door and turned the key. “Now, Miss,” said Eliza. “I have something very serious to say to you--” Just at that moment she saw the clerical black of the Reverend Mr. Carter coming down the kitchen stairs. “--and that is, we'd best get this fruit up without delay,” and seizing a large bowl of apples, oranges, and bananas, she passed it to Kathleen and backed her into the pantry again. Kathleen unsuspectingly pushed the fruit up the dumb waiter and meanwhile it took no more than an instant for Eliza to take the curate by the arm, motion him to silence, and push him toward the cellar door. “He's down there,” she whispered, and Carter innocently followed his fellow Scorpion. Again Eliza closed the door and turned the key. “Well, Eliza,” said Kathleen, “I don't think you're much of a cook, but you're a willing worker.” “Miss Kathleen,” said the cook, who was now more anxious than ever to cleanse her bosom of much perilous stuff, “are you very down on practical jokes?” “Practical jokes? Why, yes, Eliza. I think they are the lowest form of humour. Good gracious! I do believe we've forgotten the coffee! Have you got it ready?” “Yes, Miss; yes, Miss; right here,” said Eliza, bustling to the stove. “But don't you think, miss, that a frank confession atones for a great deal?” “Really, Eliza, you are the most priceless creature! I don't wonder Joe was taken with you! Hush! There's the front-door bell; what do you suppose that is?” They both listened, Kathleen at the dumb-waiter shaft and Eliza at the kitchen door. Eliza started to say something, but Kathleen waved her to be quiet. A heavy step sounded on the stair, and the agitated Mary appeared, followed by a huge policeman. Eliza, of course, recognized the Iron Duke, but the gas-light and the disguise prevented the latter from knowing his fellow venturer. “What on earth is the matter?” said Kathleen. “Please, Miss,” said the blue-coat, “your mother said there's a gas-man down here and I've been sent by headquarters to take him in charge. I think he's a sneak thief.” “There's no such person here, officer,” said Kathleen. Eliza still kept her sovereign wits about her. She advanced to the policeman, and whispering mysteriously “He's in here,” took his sleeve and led him to the cellar door. “He's down there,” she repeated; “put the cuffs on him, quick!” She opened the door, and the doubtful policeman, hypnotized by her decision, stepped on to the cellar stairs. The door closed behind him, and again Eliza turned the key.