"It is now or never!"
"Dudley," Charles said, in his most authoritative voice, "stop here
till we tell you you may leave the room. Amelia and Dolly, don't let
that man stir from where he's standing. If he does, restrain him.
Seymour and Dr. Beddersley, come down with me to the servants' hall.
I suppose that's where I shall find this person, Dudley?"
"N--no, sir," Dudley stammered out, half beside himself with fright.
"He's in the housekeeper's room, sir!"
We went down to the lower regions in a solid phalanx of three. On
the way we met Simpson, Sir Charles's valet, and also the butler,
whom we pressed into the service. At the door of the housekeeper's
room we paused, strategically. Voices came to us from within; one
was Cesarine's, the other had a ring that reminded me at once of
Medhurst and the Seer, of Elihu Quackenboss and Algernon Coleyard.
They were talking together in French; and now and then we caught
the sound of stifled laughter.
We opened the door. "Est-il drole, donc, ce vieux?" the man's
voice was saying.
"C'est a mourir de rire," Cesarine's voice responded.
We burst in upon them, red-handed.
Cesarine's young man rose, with his hat in his hand, in a respectful
attitude. It reminded me at once of Medhurst, as he stood talking
his first day at Marvillier's to Charles; and also of the little
curate, in his humblest moments as the disinterested pastor.
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