“The telescope!” cried the Prophet.  “What for?”

“Lawks!” cried Madame, with pronounced temper.  “Did we not journey from the Mouse a-purpose to go practically into the mystery of the dressed Crab?”

“I really—­I really cannot consent without a chaperon,” began the Prophet.

“The wife of Malkiel the Second needs no chaperone,” retorted Madame.  “This night has altered my condition—­I stand from henceforth far beyond the reach of etiquette.  The world knows me now and will not dare to carp. Carpe dies.”

During the foregoing colloquy her voice had become louder and louder, and the Prophet, dreading unspeakably lest his grandmother should be disturbed and affrighted once more, gave up the struggle, and, without more ado, conducted Madame into the butler’s pantry in which the telescope still remained.

Meanwhile what had become of Malkiel the Second?

When Mrs. Merillia suddenly appeared before him in her night-bonnet and accused him of being a ratcatcher he had very naturally fled, his first impulse being to leave the house at once and continue his journey to the docks.  But even a prophet is but mortal.  Malkiel had passed through an eventful day followed by a still more eventful evening.  His mind was completely exhausted.  Even so, however, he might have continued upon his journey towards Java had not his legs prosaically shown signs of giving way under him just as he once more gained the hall.  This decided him.  He must have some short repose at whatever cost.  He therefore pushed feebly at the nearest door, and found himself promptly in the apartment of the upper servants.  Staggering to the what-not of Gustavus, he sank down upon it and fell into a melancholy reverie, from which he was roused by the constant tingling cry of Mrs. Merillia’s second bell, which rang close to where he was reposing.  He tried to start up, but failed, and it was only when the hall door bell, attacked by the Prophet, added its voice to its companion’s that his terror lent him sufficient strength to flee very slowly into the inner fastnesses of this unknown region.  There was a light in the servant’s hall, but darkness lay beyond and Malkiel knew not whither he was penetrating.  He barked his shins, but could not tell against what hard substance.  He bruised his elbow, but could not know what piece of furniture had assailed it.  On coming in contact with a dresser he saw a few sparks, but they speedily died out, and he was obliged to feel his way onward, till presently he came across a large leather chair in which Mrs. Merillia’s cook was wont to sit while directing her subordinates at the basting machine.  Into this he sank palpitating, and for a moment remained undisturbed.  Then, to his horror, he heard in the adjoining room the strident voice of his loved and honoured wife apparently carrying on a decidedly vivacious argument with some person unknown.  He bounded up.  Possibly she was accompanied by Sir Tiglath, who must now be aware