bed, Hawthorne? I don't want to be caught in this
figure."

"Why, I don't know that you will be safe there, in the present state of
the dean's suspicions. No; tuck up those confounded petticoats, clap on
your pea-jacket, twist those love-locks up under your cap, light this
cigar, and sit in your easy-chair. The dean must be 'cuter than usual if
he finds you out as the lady he is in search of."

Leicester had hardly time to take this advice--the best I could hit upon
at the moment--when the dean knocked at the door.

"Who are you? Come in," said we both in a breath.

"I beg your pardon, Mr Leicester," said the dean in his most official
tone; "nothing but actually imperative duty occasions my intrusion at
this unseasonable hour, but a most extraordinary circumstance must be my
excuse. I saw, gentlemen--I saw with my own eyes," he continued, looking
blacker as he caught sight of me, and remembering, no doubt, the little
episode of the stays--"I saw a female figure move in this direction but
a few minutes ago. No such person has passed the gate, for I have made
inquiry; certainly I have no reason to suppose any such person is
concealed here; but I am bound to ask you, sir, on your honour as a
gentleman--for I have no wish to make a search--is there any such person
concealed in your apartments?"

"On my honour, sir, no one is or has been lately here, but myself and Mr
Hawthorne."

Here Dyson came into the room, looking considerably mystified.

"What's the matter, Mr Dean?" said he, nodding good-humouredly to us.

"A most unpleasant occurrence, my dear sir; I have seen a woman in this
direction not five minutes back. Unfortunately, I cannot be mistaken.
She either passed into the porter's lodge or into this staircase."

"She is not in my rooms, I assure you," said he, laughing; "I should
think you made a mistake: it must have been some man in a white
mackintosh."

I smiled, and Leicester laughed outright.

"I am not mistaken, sir," said the dean warmly. "I shall take your word,
Mr Leicester; but allow me to tell you, that your conduct in lolling in
that chair, as if in perfect contempt, and neither rising, nor removing
your cap, when Mr Dyson and myself are in your rooms, is consistent
neither with the respect due from an undergraduate, nor the behaviour I
should expect from a gentleman."

Poor Leicester coloured, and unwittingly removed his cap. The chestnut
curls, some natural and some artificial, which had b