“So you say, sir.  Our business is to find out whether, living in the Berkeley Square as you do, you can bring off a prophecy of any importance or not.  The future of myself, Madame and family depends upon the results of the experiments which we shall make upon you during the next few days.”

The Prophet began to feel as if he were shut up alone with a couple of determined practitioners of vivisection.

“Let’s see, my dear,” continued Mr. Sagittarius, addressing his wife, “what was it to be?”

“The honored grandmother one,” replied the lady, tersely.

The Prophet started.

“I cannot possibly consent—­” he began.

“Pray, Mr. Vivian, listen to me,” interposed Madame Sagittarius.

“Pray, sir, attend to Madame!” said Mr. Sagittarius, sternly.

“But I must really—­”

“January,” said Madame, “is a month of grave importance to grandmothers this year, is it not, Jupiter?”

“Yes, my dear.  In consequence of Scorpio being in the sign of Sagittarius.  The crab will be very busy up till the third of February.”

“Just so.”

“At which date the little dog, my love, assumes the roll of maleficence towards the aged.”

“I know. Cane cavem.  When was the old lady born, Mr. Vivian, if you please?”

“What old lady?” stammered the Prophet, beginning to perspire.

“The old lady who’s got ankles, your honoured grandmother?”

“On the twentieth of this month.  But—­”

“At what time?”

“Six in the morning.  But—­”

“Under what star?”

“Saturn.  But—­”

“That’s lucky, isn’t it, Jupiter?” said Madame, in an increasingly business-like manner.  “That brings her into touch with the Camelopard—­doesn’t it?”

“Into very close touch indeed, my dear, and also with the bull.  He goes right to her, as you may say.”

“I cannot conceivably permit—­” began the Prophet in much agitation.

But Madame, without taking the smallest notice of him, proceeded.

“Will the scorpion be round her on her birthday?”

“Close round her, my love—­with the serpent.  They work together.”

“Together, do they?  You know what effect they’ll have on her, don’t you, Jupiter?”

“I should rather think so, my darling,” replied Mr. Sagittarius, with an air of profound and sinister information.

The Prophet’s blood ran cold in his veins.  Yet he felt for the moment unable to utter a syllable, or even to make a gesture of protest.  So entirely detached from him did the worthy couple appear to be, so completely wrapped up in their own evidently well-considered and carefully-laid plans, that he had a sense of being in another sphere, not theirs, of hearing their remarks from some distance off.  Madame Sagittarius now turned towards him in a formal manner, and continued.

“And now, Mr. Vivian, I shall have to lay down the procedure that you will follow.  Have you a good memory—­no, a pencil and notebook will be best. Litterae scriptus manetur, as we all know full well.  Have you a pencil and—?”