possessed by Mrs. Merillia; tall silver candelabra, standard lamps of polished bronze, richly-chased cups, gigantic vases for containing flowers, oriental incense holders upon stands of ebony, Spanish charcoal dishes of burnished brass, and other treasures far too numerous to mention. This cupboard was always carefully locked at night, but on this occasion Mr. Ferdinand, totally disorganised by the frightful scenes which had taken place at his dinner table during the evening, had retired to bed in a condition of collapse, leaving it open. Malkiel the Second, feeling frantically about in the dark, came upon the door of this cupboard, pulled it, found that it yielded to his hand, and, hearing the rapidly approaching voices of Madame and the Prophet, stumbled into the cupboard and sank down on a large gold loving-cup, with one foot in a silver soup tureen, and the other in a priceless sugar basin, just as the light of the candle borne by the Prophet glimmered in the darkness of the adjacent corridor. “This way, Madame,” said the Prophet. “But I really think such a proceeding is calculated to cause a grave scandal in the square.” Malkiel the Second drew the cupboard door to, and grasped a silver candelabrum in each hand to sustain himself upon the rather sharp rim of the loving-cup. “What is the square to me or I to the square?” returned Madame with ungrammatical majesty. “Madame Malkiel is not governed by any ordinary laws. _Lexes non scripta_ is her motto. To these alone she clings.” Her husband clung to the candelabra and burst into a violent perspiration. Through the keyhole of the cupboard a ray of light now shone, and he heard the frou-frou of his partner’s skirt, the flump of the rabbit-skins as she cast them from her ample shoulders upon the floor. The Prophet’s voice became audible again. “What do you wish me to do?” he said, with a sort of embittered courtesy. “Throw open the window, place yourself before the telescope, and proceed at once to your investigations,” replied the lady. “I am not in a condition to investigate,” said the Prophet. “I am not indeed. If you will only let me get you a cab, to-morrow night--” “It is useless to talk, Mr. Vivian,” said Madame, very sharply. “The cab has not yet been made that will convey me to the Mouse to-night.” “But your husband--” “My husband is a coward, unworthy of such a wife as he possesses. At the crisis of our fortunes--What’s that?” At this painful moment Malkiel the Second was so overcome by emotion, that he trembled, and allowed his left foot to rattle slightly on the sugar basin. “What was it?” repeated Madame. “Rats, I have no doubt,” answered the Prophet, who had heard nothing. “I believe that the basements of these old houses are simply--well--simply permeated with rats.”