“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. “Oh, Mr. Gustavus!” said Mrs. Fancy. “Is it the robbers again? Is it murder, Mr. Gustavus? Is it fire?” “I don’t know, Mrs. Fancy, I’ll ask the mistress.” He tapped upon the door. “You can’t come in!” cried poor Mrs. Merillia, who was losing her head perhaps for the first time in her life. “You can’t come in, and if you do I shall give you in charge to the police.” And she rang both her bells again. “Ma’am!” said Gustavus, knocking once more. “Ma’am!” “It’s no use your knocking,” returned Mrs. Merillia. “The door is bolted. Go away, go away!” And again she rang her two bells. “Madam!” piped Mrs. Fancy. “Madam! It’s me!” “I know,” said Mrs. Merillia. “I know it’s you! I saw you! Leave the house unless you wish to be at once put in prison.” 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.