In the drawing-room the Prophet stood, with clenched hands, gazing through the telescope at Mercury and Uranus, Jupiter, Saturn and Venus, while, on the second floor, Mrs. Fancy Quinglet, Mrs. Merillia’s devoted, but occasionally disconcerting, maid, swathed her mistress’s ankle in bandages previously steeped in cold water and in vinegar. CHAPTER II MALKIEL THE SECOND IS BETRAYED BY THE YOUNG LIBRARIAN Mrs. Merillia’s accident made a very deep impression upon the Prophet’s mind. He thought it over carefully, and desired to discuss it in all its bearings with Mrs. Fancy Quinglet, who had been his confidante for full thirty years. Mrs. Fancy--who had not been married--was no longer a pretty girl. Indeed it was possible that she had never, even in her heyday, been otherwise than moderately plain. Now, at the age of fifty-one and a half, she was a faithful creature with a thin, pendulous nose, a pale, hysteric eye, a tendency to cold in the head and chilblains in the autumn of the year, and a somewhat incoherent and occasionally frenzied turn of mind. Argument could never at any time have had much effect upon her nature, and as she grew towards maturity its power over her most markedly decreased. This fact was recognised by everybody, last of all by Mrs. Merillia, who was at length fully convinced of the existence of certain depths in her maid’s peculiar character by the following circumstance. Mrs. Merillia had a bandy-legged dachshund called Beau, whose name was for many years often affectionately, and quite correctly, pronounced by Fancy Quinglet. One day, however, she chanced to see it written upon paper--B.E.A.U. “Whatever does that mean, ma’am?” she asked of Mrs. Merillia. “Why, Beau, of course, Beau--the dog. What should it mean?” “Bow?” cried Fancy. “Is he writ so?” “Of course, silly girl. It is written Beau, and you can pronounce it as you would pronounce a bow of ribbon.” Fancy said no more, though it was easy to see that she was much shaken by this circumstance. But she could never afterwards be induced to utter her favourite’s name. She was physically unable to speak the word so strangely, so almost impiously, spelt. This she declared with tears. Persuasion and argument were unavailing. Henceforth Beau was always called by her “the dog,” and it was obvious that, had she been led out to the stake, she must have burned rather than save herself by a pronouncing of the combination of letters by which she had been so long deceived. Such an inflexible mind had Mrs. Fancy, to whom the Prophet now applied himself with gestures almost Sinaic. She was dressed in mouse-coloured grenadine, and was seated in a small chamber opening out of Mrs. Merillia’s bedroom, engaged in what she called “plain tatting.” “Fancy,” said the Prophet, entering and closing the door carefully, “you know me well.” “From the bottle, sir,” she answered, darting the bone implements in and out. “Have you ever thought--has it ever occurred to you--”