"And don't apply to me for a character, whatever you do;" whilst, very
red-eyed and weeping, out came Sarah Ann, the housemaid.
"Once more," said Mrs Blunt, "do you mean to tell me who it was that I
distinctly saw, with my very own eyes, standing upon the leads talking
to you?"
But Ann only gave a sob and a gulp, and I knew then that they did not
know who had come to see her; whilst I felt perfectly certain that it
was _the_ policeman, and, besides, the Signor and Achille must have seen
what he was.
I was standing close to Miss Furness, who, as soon as she saw Ann, began
to bridle up with virtuous indignation; and then set to and hunted the
girls into the breakfast-room.
"Is Ann going away?" said Patty Smith, in her dawdly, sleepy way. "I
like Ann. What's she going away for, Miss Furness, please?"
"Hush!" exclaimed Miss Furness, in a horrified way. "Don't ask such
questions. She is a very wicked and hardened girl, and Mrs Fortesquieu
de Blount has dismissed her, lest she should contaminate either of the
other servants."
"I'll tell you all about it, presently," whispered Celia Blang; but not
in such a low voice but that the indignant Miss Furness overheard her.
"You will do nothing of the kind," said the cross old maid, "and I
desire that you instantly go back to your seat. If you know anything,
you will be silent--silence is golden. Such things are not to be talked
about, Miss Blang."
Celia made a grimace behind her back, although she was said to be Miss
Furness's spy, and supposed to tell her everything; so Patty's curiosity
remained unsatisfied, while of course I pretended to know nothing at all
about what had been going on.
Directly after breakfast, though, Patty had it all by heart, and came
red-hot to tell me how that Clara had been caught trying to elope out of
the conservatory, whilst Ann was talking from the tall staircase window,
when Miss Sloman happened to hear a whispering--for she was lying awake
with a bad fit of the toothache. So she went and alarmed the lady
principal; and then, with Miss Furness and the Fraulein, they had all
watched, and they found it out. Some one, too, had been in the tank,
and the conservatory windows were broken, and that was all, except that
Mrs Blunt had been writing to Lady Fitzacre--Clara's mamma--and the
poor girl was to be expelled; while for the present she was to be kept
in her room till her mamma came, unless she would say who was the
gentleman she was about to elope with--such stuff!--and then, if she
would confess, she was to sit with Mrs Blunt, under surveillance, as
they called it. When, leaving alone betraying the poor Signor, of
course Clara preferred staying in her own room.
Such a miserable wet morning, and though I wanted to, very badly indeed,
I could not get into the conservatory to set my poor mind at rest by
poking down into the cistern with a blind lath; for if I had gone it
might have raised suspicions.
Could he still be in the tank, and were my dreams in slumber right?
"Oh, how horrible!" I thought; "why, I should feel always like his
murderer."
But, there, I could not help it--it was fate, my fate, and his fate--my
fate to be his murderess, his to be drowned; and I would have given
worlds, if I had had them, to be able to faint, when about eleven
o'clock the cook came to the door, and asked Mrs Blunt, in a strange,
mysterious way, to please come into the conservatory. For the man
servant had not come back from the station, and taking Ann's boxes.
"Oh, he's there, he's there!" I muttered, as I wrung my hands beneath
the table, and closed my eyes, thinking of the inquest and the other
horrors to come; and seeing in imagination his wet body laid upon the
white stones in the conservatory.
Oh, how I wanted to faint--how I tried to faint, and go off in a deep
swoon, that should rest me for a while from the racking thoughts that
troubled me. But I could not manage it anyhow; for of course nothing
but the real thing would do at such a time as this.
Out went Mrs Blunt, to return in five minutes with what I thought to be
a terribly pale face, as she beckoned out the three teachers who were
most in her confidence, Miss Murray being considered too young and
imprudent.
There! I never felt anything so agonising in my life--never; and I
could not have borne it any longer anyhow. I'm sure, in another moment
I must have been horribly hysterical and down upon the floor, tapping
the boards with my heels, as I once saw mamma--and of course such things
are hereditary--only I was saved by hearing a step upon the gravel.
Then my heart leaped just after the fashion of that gentleman's who
wanted Maud to come into the garden so very badly. For there I could
see the real eyes coming along the shrubbery, peeping over the fur
collar of a long cloak, which hung down to the heels. And I felt so
relieved, that a great heavy sob, that had been sticking in my throat
all the morning, leaped out suddenly, and made Patty Smith look up and
stare.
Then came tramping in Mrs Blunt and the three teachers, and as they
whispered together, I was quite startled, for they talked about
something being dragged out of the cistern with the tongs. And now I
knew it could not be Achille, but made sure it was the poor Signor; when
I felt nearly as bad as before, though I kept telling myself that it was
quite impossible for them to have lifted the poor, dear, drowned dead
man out with a pair of tongs--even if he was not so very stout. But
there, my misery was again put an end to by the Fraulein, who said, out
loud,--
"Oh, yes, it was. I see de mark--C. Fitzacre."
And then I knew that it must have been one of Clara's handkerchiefs that
had been fished out, and "blessed my stars that my stars blessed me" by
not letting it be my handkerchief that they had discovered.
There was a step in the hall, and how my heart fluttered!
"Monsieur Achille de Tiraille for the French lesson," squeaked Miss
Furness.
And soon after we were busy at work, going over the irregular verbs, and
I could see Achille's eyes wandering from face to face, as if to see
whether there were any suspicion attaching to him. Then followed the
reading and exercise correcting, while I could see plainly enough that
he was terribly agitated--so much so, that he made at lest four mistakes
himself, and passed over several in the pupils. And when he found that
I did not give him a note with my exercise--one that should explain, I
suppose, all that had since passed--when I had not had the eighth part
of a chance to write one, he turned quite cross and pettish, and snapped
one, and snubbed another. As for poor me, I could have cried, I could,
only that all the teachers and Mrs Blunt were there, and Miss Furness
looking triumphant. As a rule, all the teachers did not stay in the
room while the French lessons were progressing, and this all tended
towards making poor Achille fidgety and cross; but he need not have
behaved quite so unkindly to me, for I'm sure I had been suffering quite
enough upon his account, and so I should have liked to have told him if
I had had the opportunity; while now that all this upset had come, I
felt quite sorry for the disloyal thought that I had had, and should
have been ready to do anything for his sake.
The lessons were nearly over, when all at once the door opened suddenly,
and I saw poor Achille jump so that the pen with which he was correcting
Patty Smith's exercise made a long scrawling tail to one of the letters;
but he recovered himself directly.
Well, the door opened suddenly, and the cook stood there, wiping her
floury hands, for it was pasty-waster day, and she exclaimed loudly,--
"O'm! please'm! the little passage is all in a swim."
"C-o-o-o-k!" exclaimed Mrs Blunt, in a dreadful voice, as if she meant
to slay her upon the spot.
"O'm! please'm!" cried the cook again.
"Why, where is James, cook?" said Mrs Blunt, sternly.
"Cleaning hisself, mum," said cook; "and as Hann's gone, mum, I was
obliged to come--not as I wanted to, I'm sure," and cook looked very
much ill-used.
Mrs Blunt jumped up, as much to get rid of the horrible apparition as
anything; while cook continued,--
"There, do come, mum; it's perfeckly dreadful!" and they went off
together; when such a burst of exclamations followed that the three lady
teachers rose and left the room, and I took the opportunity of Miss
Murray's back being turned to exchange glances with poor Achille, who
had, at the least, been wet; while I longed, for poor Clara's sake, to
ask him about the Signor. But to speak was impossible, and there were
too many eyes about for the glance to be long. So I let mine drop to my
exercise, and then sat, with a strange, nervous sensation that I could
not explain creeping over me, and it seemed like the forerunner of
something about to happen.
Just then Miss Furness hurried in and out again, leaving the door ajar,
so that from where I sat I could command a view of the little passage,
and saw Mrs Blunt walk up, jingling her keys, and stepping upon the
points of her toes over a little stream of water that was slowly flowing
along. Then going up to the store-room door, I heard the key thrust in,
as impelled by I know not what, I left my seat, and formed one of the
group which stood looking upon the little stream that I could now see
came from beneath the store-room door.
"The skylight must have been left open," exclaimed Mrs Blunt, flinging
open the door, and at the same moment the recollection of the crash
flashed across my mind; for, as she flung open the door, in her pompous,
bouncing way, and was about to step in, oh!--horror of horrors! how can
I describe it all? There was the floor of the little room covered with
broken glass, water, bits of putty, wood, and a mass of broken jam pots;
and the little table, that had evidently stood beneath the skylight, had
two of its legs broken off, and had slid its saccharine burden (that is
better than saying load of jam) upon the floor in hideous ruin. Some
pots were broken to pieces, some in half; while others had rolled to the
other end of the room, and were staining their paper covers, or dyeing
the water with their rich, cloying contents. But worse, far worse than
all, with his face cut, scratched, and covered with dry blood, his shirt
front and waistcoat all jam, crouching back in the farthest corner, was
the poor Signor--regularly trapped when he had fallen through the
skylight; for it was impossible for any one to have climbed up to the
opening, through which the rain came like a shower bath, and there was
no other way of exit.
The lady principal shrieked, the lady teachers performed a trio of
witch-screams--the most discordant ever uttered--and my Lady Blunt would
have plashed down into the puddle, only, seeing how wet it was, she only
reeled and clung to me, who felt ready to drop myself, as I leaned
against the wall half swooning.
Alarmed by the shrieks, Achille came running out, looking, as I thought,
very pale.
"Ladies, ladies!" he ejaculated, "_ma foi, qu'est ce que c'est_?"
"Help, help! Monsieur Achille," gasped Mrs Blunt.
He hurried forward, and relieved me of my load.
"Fetch the police," cried Miss Furness.
"_Nein, nein_--it is a mistake," whispered the Fraulein, who had a
penchant, I think, for the poor Signor.
"Signor Pazzoletto, it is thou!" exclaimed Achille, with an aspect of
the most profound amazement as he caught sight of his unfortunate
friend--an aspect which was, indeed, truthful.
For, as he afterwards told me, he had been so drenched in the cistern,
and taken up with making his own escape, that he had thought no more of
the poor Signor; while, being a wet morning, he had not sought his
lodging--which was some distance from the town--before coming, though he
was somewhat anxious to consult him upon the previous night's alarm, and
hardly dared to show himself. So--
"Signor Pazzoletto, it is thou!" he exclaimed, regularly taken aback, as
the sailors say.
"_Altro! altro_!" ejaculated the poor man, who sadly wanted to make his
escape, but could see no better chance now than there had been all the
night.
For the passage was blocked, while in the hall were collected together
all the pupils and the servants--that gawky James coming back and
towering above all, like a horrible lamp-post in a crowd.
"My vinaigrette," murmured Madame Blunt.
When if that dreadful Achille did not place another arm around her; and
that nasty old thing liked it, I could see, far more than Miss Furness
did, and hung upon him horribly, pretending to faint; when I could have
given anything to have snatched her away.
"_Pauvre chere dame_" murmured Achille, giving me at the same moment a
comical look out of the corner of his eye.
"Oh! Monsieur Achille," said Mrs Blunt, feebly, "oh, help! Send away
that wretch. _Otez moi cet homme la_."
"_Aha! yais! mais oui_!" exclaimed Achille--the base deceiver, to play
such a part!--"Sare, you are not business here. Madame dismiss. Take
away yourself off. Cut yourself! Go!"
I give this just as Achille spoke it; for I cannot but feel angry at the
deceitful part he had played.
The Signor looked at Achille, and gave him a diabolical grin--just as if
he would have liked to stiletto him upon the spot, with one of the
pieces of broken glass. Then he looked at me, bestowing upon me a
meaning glance, as he made a rush past us all, and escaped by the front
door; but not without splashing right through the puddle, and sending
the water all over the Fraulein, so that she exclaimed most indignantly,
until the front door closed with a heavy bang.