“It’s not true, sir,” cried Mr. Sagittarius, pale with terror.  “It is not true.  I deny it.  I am an Ameri—­I mean I am not the American syndicate—­you are in error, in absolute error.  I swear it.  I take the heavens to witness.”

At this remarkable and comprehensive statement Mrs. Merillia and Lady Julia looked at each other in elegant amazement.

“What do you mean, sir?” exclaimed Sir Tiglath.  “And why do you insult the sacred heavens, you an astronomer!”

“I am not an astronomer,” cried Mr. Sagittarius, cringing in the voluminous waistcoat of Mr. Ferdinand.  “I am an outside broker.  I swear it.  My dress, my manner proclaim the fact.  Sophronia, tell the gentleman that I am an outside broker and that all Margate has recognised me as such.”

“My husband states the fact,” said Madame, in response to this impassioned appeal.  “My husband brokes outside, and has done for the last twenty years.  Collect yourself, Jupiter.  Pray do not doff your toga virilibus in the presence of ladies!”

The terror of Mr. Sagittarius was such, however, that it is very doubtful whether he would not have proceeded thus to disrobe had not the Prophet, rendered desperate by the turn of events, abruptly leaped between Sir Tiglath and his old and valued friend and, gathering the outraged Lady Julia under his arm, exclaimed,—­

“Pray, pray—­we can discuss this matter more comfortably at dinner.  Permit me, Lady Julia.  Sir Tiglath, if you will kindly give your arm to Madame Sagittarius.  Mr. Sagittarius, my grandmother.”

So saying, he made a sort of flank movement, so adroitly conceived and carried out that, in the twinkling of an eye, he had driven Sir Tiglath to the side of Madame and hustled Mr. Sagittarius into the immediate neighbourhood of Mrs. Merillia.  Nor had more than two minutes elapsed before the whole party found themselves—­they scarce knew how—­arranged around the dining table and being served with clear soup by Mr. Ferdinand and the astounded Gustavus, whose naturally round eyes began to take an almost oblong form as he attended to the wants of Mrs. Merillia’s very unfamiliar guests, whose outlying demeanour and architectural manners evidently filled him with the most poignant dismay.

As to Mrs. Merillia and Lady Julia, the foregoing scene had so reduced them that they were almost betrayed into some hysterical departure from the rules of exquisite good breeding which they had unconsciously observed from the cradle.  Indeed, the latter, strong in the belief that the terms outside broker and raving maniac were interchangeable, twice dropped her spoon into her soup-plate before she could succeed in lifting it to her mouth, and was unable to prevent herself from whispering to the Prophet,—­

“Pray, Mr. Vivian, tell me the worst—­is he absolutely dangerous?”

“No, no,” whispered back the Prophet, reassuringly.  “It’s all his play.”