The little clergyman turned almost black in the face.

“Biggle!” he exclaimed, in a voice of thunder.  “Biggle!  Biggle!”

And, without further parley, he rushed to the cloak-room, seized someone else’s hat and coat, and fared forth into the night.  Lady Enid, who had meant to coach Mrs. Bridgeman very carefully for the meeting with Sir Tiglath, but whose plans were completely upset by the astronomer’s premature advent, now endeavoured to interpose.

“By the way,” she said, in a very calm voice, “where is dear Mr. Sagittarius?  I haven’t seen him yet.”

“I’m afraid he’s angry with me,” said Mrs. Bridgeman, alluding to the little clergyman.  “I really can’t think why.”

“Sir Tiglath,” said Lady Enid, boldly taking the astronomer’s arm.  “Come with me.  I want you to find Mr. Sagittarius for me.  Yes, they do make rather a noise!”

This was in allusion to the guitars, for the astronomer had now placed both hands over his ears in the vain endeavour to exclude “The Gipsies.”  Deafness, perhaps, rendered him yielding.  In any case, he permitted Lady Enid to detach him from Mrs. Bridgeman and to lead him through the rooms in search of Mr. Sagittarius.

“Perhaps he’s here,” said Lady Enid, entering a darkened chamber.  “Oh, no!”

And she hastily moved away, perceiving a large number of devoted adherents of table-tapping busily engaged, with outspread fingers and solemn faces, at their intellectual pursuit.  Avoiding the archdeacon, who was now having his nose read by the professor, she conducted the astronomer, rendered strangely meek by the guitars, into a drawing-room near the hall, in which only four people remained—­Verano and Mrs. Eliza Doubleway, who were conferring in one corner, and Mr. and Madame Sagittarius, who were apparently having rather more than a few words together in another.

“Ah! there’s Mr. Sagittarius!” said Lady Enid.

“Minnie!” cried Mrs. Eliza, beckoning to Lady Enid.  “Minnie, ducky!”

Lady Enid pretended not to hear and tried to hasten with the astronomer towards the Sagittariuses.  But Mrs. Eliza was not to be put off.

“Minnie, my pet!” she piped.  “Come here, Minnie!”

Lady Enid was obliged to pause.

“What is it, dear Eliza?” she asked, at the same time making a face at the soothsayer to indicate caution.

Mrs. Eliza and Verano rose and approached Lady Enid and the astronomer.

“I was laying the cards last night at Jane Seaman’s—­you know, dear, the Angel Gabriel who lives on the Hackney Downs—­and whatever do you think?  The hace of spades came up three times in conjugation with the Knave of ’earts!”

“Terrific!  Very great!” buzzed Verano, with a strong South American Irish brogue—­a real broth of a brogue.

“Wonderful!” said Lady Enid, hastily, endeavouring to pass on.

“Wait a minute, darling.  Well, I says to Jane—­I was laying the cards for her ’usband, dear—­I says to Jane, I says, without doubt Hisaac is about to pass over, I says, seeing the red boy’s come up in conjugation with the hace.  ‘Lord!  Mrs. Eliza!  Lay them out again,’ she says, ‘for,’ she says, ‘if Hike is going to pass over,’ she says—­”