“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.

“I think it’s Mrs. Merillia, sir.  She keeps on ringing.”

“Mrs. Merillia.  At this hour!  Heavens!  Is she ill?”

“I don’t know, sir.  She keeps ringing; but when I answer it she says, ‘Go away!’ she says.  ‘Go—­’ she says, sir.”

“How very strange!”

And the Prophet bounded upstairs and arrived at his grandmother’s door just in time to hear her cry out, in reply to poor Mrs. Fancy’s distracted knocking,—­

“If you try to break in you will be put in prison at once.  I hear assistance coming.  I hear the police.  Go away, you wicked, wicked man!”

“Grannie!” cried the Prophet through the keyhole.  “Grannie, let me in!  Grannie!  Grannie!  Don’t ring!  Grannie!  Grannie!”

But Mrs. Merillia was now completely out of herself, and her only response to her grandson’s appeal was to place her trembling fingers upon the two bells, and to reply, through their uproar,—­

“It is useless for you to say that.  I know who you are.  I saw you.  I shall go on ringing as long as I can stand.  I shall die ringing, but I shall never let you in.  Go away!  Go away!”

“What does she mean?” cried the Prophet, turning to Gustavus.

“I don’t know indeed, sir,” replied the footman, thinking of Mr. Carter’s library.  “I couldn’t say indeed, sir.”

“Oh, my poor missis!” wailed Mrs. Fancy, trembling in her night-socks.  “Oh, my poor dear missis!  I can’t speak different nor mean other.  Oh, missis, missis!”

“Hush, Fancy!” said the Prophet, in the greatest distraction.  “Grannie!  Grannie!”

And seizing the handle of the door he shook it violently.  Mrs. Merillia was now very naturally under the impression that the ratcatcher was determined to break in and murder her without more ado.  Extreme danger often seems to exercise a strangely calming influence upon the human soul.  So it was now.  Upon hearing her bedroom door quivering under the assault of the Prophet, Mrs. Merillia was abruptly invaded by a sort of desperate courage.  She left the bells, tottered to the grate in which a good fire was blazing, seized the poker and thrust it between the bars and into the heart of the flames, at the same time crying out in a quavering but determined voice,—­

“I am heating the poker!  If you come in you will repent it.  I am heating the poker!”