now," said Lucilla strongly, though her voice trembled, "and you can explain sitting down."
"Yes, let's." Jane welcomed the suggestion, for the arm she held was actually trembling and her own heart was still beating wildly. "I'm sure we all need something to revive us after the shock of being screamed at by each other."
"I didn't scream," Lucilla reminded her.
"No," said Jane, "but you said, 'Ye-ye-ye-yes-s,' and nearly gave the show away. Besides, you'd nothing to scream about. We had. There must be thousands of tea-shops about here. You will come and have tea with us and let us explain?" she urged her captive, who murmured, "If you'll let me. You're too good. I don't want to be a nuisance . . ." and yielded.
"And of course," said Jane, ending her explanation with her elbows on the marble-topped table among the tea-cups, "if we hadn't been frightening ourselves with murderers, and Marat in his bath, and guillotined heads, and muddling ourselves with whether things were wax or weren't, I shouldn't have grabbed you like that and you wouldn't have yelled and then I shouldn't have yelled either. And anyhow, I can't think how I could have been so silly."
"If you come to that, what makes people so silly as to go to waxworks when they know they're going to be frightened?" Lucilla asked.
"I went because my landlady gave me a ticket," said their new friend, "and it seemed a good place to rest in. I didn't mean to be frightened."
"We went because we drew it out of a hat," said Lucilla; "and we didn't exactly mean to be frightened either—we came out expressly on a pleasure hunt."
"I've been hunting too—but mine's for work," said the young man; "and I was so unsuccessful and so weary that I felt I must sit down or die. And as I had the ticket I postponed my decease. And then sleep came over me," he went on absently, "and I dreamed I was in prison again—and
