Next morning down comes the bailiff's head man in his light cart, and a
note is delivered to Vizard at the breakfast table. He reads it to
himself, then proclaims silence, and reads it aloud:
"DEAR SIR--As we crossed your hall to luncheon, there was the door of a
small room half open, and I saw a large mahogany case standing on a
marble table with one leg, but three claws gilt. I saw 'Micro' printed on
the case. So I hope it is a microscope, and a fine one. To enable you to
find it, if you don't know, the room had crimson curtains, and is papered
in green flock. That is the worst of all the poisonous papers, because
the texture is loose, and the poisonous stuff easily detached, and always
flying about the room. I hope you do not sit in it, nor Miss Vizard,
because sitting in that room is courting death. Please lend me the
microscope, if it is one, and I'll soon show you why the boys are putty
faced. I have inspected them, and find Miss Dover's epithet more exact
than Miss Vizard's, which is singular. I will take great care of it.
Yours respectfully,
"RHODA GALE."
Vizard ordered a servant to deliver the microscope to Miss Gale's
messenger with his compliments.
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