“The old astronomer must know her before the evening is one hour more advanced. He must question her regarding the holy stars. He must examine her and this Sagittarius, who claims to be an outside broker and yet to have discovered oxygen in the fixed inhabitants of the sacred heavens. My cloak!” The last words were bellowed at Gustavus, who rushed forward with Sir Tiglath’s Inverness. The Prophet lowed his head, and metaphorically, threw up the sponge. “Lady Julia,” said Mrs. Merillia, in a soft voice that slightly trembled, “let us go upstairs.” The two old ladies bowed with tearful dignity, and retired with a sort of gentle majesty that cut the Prophet to the heart. “One moment, if you please!” he said to his guests. And he darted out of the room and leaped up the stairs. He found Mrs. Merillia and Lady Julia just about to dispose themselves side by side upon a sofa near the fire. They turned and looked at him with reproachful doves’ eyes. “Grannie--Lady Julia!” he exclaimed, “I implore your forgiveness. Pardon me! Appearances are against me, I know. But some day you may understand how I am placed. My position is--my--my situation--I--you--do not wholly condemn me! Wait--wait a few days, I implore you!” He rushed out of the room. The two old ladies seated themselves upon the sofa, and tremblingly spread abroad their damask skirts. They looked at each other in silence, shaking their elegant heads. Then Mrs. Merillia said, in a fluttering voice,-- “Oh, Julia, you were a lady in waiting to Her Majesty, you were kissed by the great Duke--tell me--tell me what it all means!” “Victoria,” replied Lady Julia, “it means that your grandson has fallen into the clutches of a dangerous and determined ratcatcher.” And then the two old ladies mingled their damask skirts and their lace caps and wept. CHAPTER XVIII THE SILLY LIFE “Call a cab for Sir Tiglath, Mr. Ferdinand,” whispered the Prophet--“a four-wheeler with a lame horse. I’ll take both Mr. and Madame Sagittarius in the brougham.” “Must the horse be lame, sir?” “Yes. I absolutely decline to encourage the practice of using good horses in four-wheeled cabs. It’s a disgrace to the poor animals. It must be a very lame horse.” “Yes, sir.” And Mr. Ferdinand, standing upon the doorstep, whistled to the night. Strange to say, in about two minutes there appeared round the corner the very same cabman who had conveyed the Prophet and Lady Enid to the astronomer’s on the previous day, driving the very same horse. “This horse will do admirably,” said the Prophet to Mr. Ferdinand. “He isn’t lame, sir.” “P’r’aps not; but he knows how to tumble down. Sir Tiglath, here is a cab for you. We shall go in the brougham. Zoological House, Regent’s Park, is the direction. Let me help you in, Madame.” As the Prophet got in to sit bodkin between his old and valued friends, he whispered to the footman,-- “Tell Simkins to drive as fast as possible. We are very late.”