“Not upon the envelope, sir, not upon the envelope.”

“I see.”

“Hitherto, true to myself, true to the principles of Malkiel the First, and to the instincts of Madame, I have declined her personal acquaintance.  But there is no reason why you should not introduce me to the house as Mr. Sagittarius, no reason at all.”

The Prophet knew only too well that there was not, but before he had time to go on trying to wriggle out of the complication, Madame struck in.

“Miss Minerva is to be present at this reception, I believe,” she said sharply.

“Yes, she is,” answered the Prophet, illumined by a ray of hope.

“Jupiter,” said Madame, “I will accompany you and Mr. Vivian to the Zoological Gardens to-night.  It is my sacred duty.”

The Prophet groaned.

“But, my darling—­”

“The reception over, I will assist you and Mr. Vivian at the telescope in the Berkeley Square.  In your presence I can do so without departing from my principles, salvo pudoribus.  Do not interrupt me, Jupiter, if you please.  I have thought the matter out.  The crisis in our fate is at hand.  Upon the events of the next three nights depends our future.  These mysterious messages of which Mr. Vivian speaks must be examined into by us upon the spot.  This mystery of the dressed Crab must be made clear.  A woman’s intellect is needed.  A woman’s intellect shall not be wanting.  Ill as I am, worn down by the occurrences of yesterday and by this gentleman’s incessant telegrams, I will leave my books”—­here she waved one hand towards the dwarf bookcase—­“I will assume an appropriate neglige and my outdoor boots, a fichu and bonnet, and will accompany you at once to the Berkeley Square, there to confer and arrange the programme of the evening.  Mrs. Bridgeman would fall down before us in worship could she know who we really are.  As it is, Mr. Vivian will introduce us modestly as two old and valued friends.  The time may be at hand when we need no longer hide ourselves beneath an alibi.  Till then we must possess ourselves, and Mr. Vivian must possess us, in patience.  Ill as I am, I will accompany you.  To-night shall see me in the Zoological Gardens at my husband’s side.”

Before the prospect of this sublime self-sacrifice both Mr. Sagittarius and the Prophet were as men dumb.  They said not a word.  They only gazed—­with a sort of strange idiotcy—­at Madame as she rose, with an elaborate and studied feebleness, from the maroon couch and prepared to go upstairs to assume the appropriate neglige.  Only when she was at her full height did the Prophet, rendered desperate by the terrible results of his own ingenuity, nerve himself to utter one last protest.

“I really do not think it would be quite according to the rules of etiquette which prevail in the central districts,” he cried, “for a lady to spend the night in the butler’s pantry of a comparative stranger, even when accompanied by her husband.  It might give rise to talk in the square, and—­”