A Fluttered Dovecote Part 13

Then my heart leaped just after the fas.h.i.+on 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed--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 pa.s.sage 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 perf.e.c.kly 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 pa.s.sage, 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 gla.s.s, water, bits of putty, wood, and a ma.s.s 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 s.h.i.+rt 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 princ.i.p.al 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 e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "_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_!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed 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 pa.s.sage 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 gla.s.s. 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 splas.h.i.+ng 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.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

MEMORY THE THIRTEENTH--SO VERY WICKED.

It was such a relief to know that the Signor was gone, and that, too, without betraying any one. I could see, too, that Achille revived, now that he felt that he was safe for the present, and redoubled his attentions to Mrs Blunt. I declare I believe he would have stood there holding her for an hour, and she letting him, if Miss Furness had not very officiously lent her aid as well; when the lady princ.i.p.al grew better at once, and allowed herself to be a.s.sisted into the breakfast-room, where, after much pressing, she consented to partake of a gla.s.s of sherry.

"Oh, Monsieur Achille," she gasped, "such a serious matter--reputation of my establishment! You will be silent? Oh, dear me, what a dreadful upset."

"Silent? Ma foi, oui, Madame Bloont. I will be close as box," and he gave his shoulders a shrug, put his fingers to his lips, half-shut his eyes, and nodded his head a great many times over.

"I knew you would," murmured Mrs Blunt; "and as to my lady a.s.sistants, I feel a.s.sured that I can depend upon them."

"Oh, yes," cried all these, in chorus.

"And you had better now return to the cla.s.sroom, Miss Bozerne," said Miss Furness, who had seemed in a fidget ever since I had followed them into the place.

"Ah, yes--please leave us now, Miss Bozerne," said Mrs Blunt. "Of course we can depend upon you, my child?"

I promised all they wished, and was going across the hall, when I met James, with a piece of paper in his hand.

"Please, miss, where's Monser Tirrel?--a boy just brought this for him."

"I'll take it in to him," I said, with the blood seeming to run in a torrent to my heart; and there I stood, with the piece of a leaf of a pocket-book in my hand. It was not doubled up, and as I glanced down upon it I could see that it was scribbled over, evidently hastily, in pencil. I was about to carry it into the breakfast-room, when a word caught my eye; and telling myself it was not dishonourable, and that I had some right to know the secrets of Achille, I felt that I must read it through.

"He says that I am his own, so that I have a right to see his correspondence," I said to myself, trying to find an excuse for the deceitful act; and then trembling all over, I read, hastily scrawled--