So saying, and with an air of one retiring from business upon a well-earned competence, Madame Sagittarius lay back in her chair, settled her bonnet-strings, flicked a crumb from the football of violets that decorated her left side, and, extending her kid boots towards the cheerful blaze that came from the fire, fell with a sigh into a comfortable meditation.  Mr. Sagittarius, on the other hand, assumed a look of rather hectoring authority, and was about to utter what the Prophet had very little doubt was a command when there came a gentle tap to the door.

“Come in,” said the Prophet.

He thought he had spoken in his ordinary voice.  In reality he had merely uttered a very small whisper.  The tap was repeated.

“Louder, sir, louder!” said Mr. Sagittarius, encouragingly.

“Come in!” shrieked the Prophet.

Mr. Ferdinand appeared, looking more like the elderly spinster lady when confronted with the corporal in the Life Guards than ever.

“If you please, sir, I was to tell you that Lady Enid Thistle is with Mrs. Merillia taking tea.  Mrs. Merillia thought you would wish to know.”

Madame Sagittarius took the kid boots from the blaze on hearing this aristocratic name.  Mr. Sagittarius assumed a look of reverence, and the Prophet realised, more acutely than ever, that even well-born young women can be inquisitive.

“Very well,” he said.  “Say I’ll—­I’ll”—­he succeeded in making his voice sound absolutely firm—­“I’ll come in a moment.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Ferdinand cast a glance of respectful, but unlimited, horror upon the Prophet’s guests and retired, while the Prophet, calling upon all his manhood, turned to Mr. Sagittarius.

“I regret more than I can say that I shall be obliged now to obey my grandmother’s summons,” he said courteously.  “Suppose we defer this—­this pleasant little discussion to some future oc—­”

“Impossible, sir!” cried Mr. Sagittarius.  “Quite impossible.  You must get to work to-night, and how can you do it without your directions?”

“Oh, I can manage all right,” said the Prophet, desperately.  “I can give a guess as to—­”

“Non sunt ad astrae mollibus a terrus viae!” cried Madame.  “The road from Berkeley square to the stars is not so easy, is it, Jupiter?”

“No indeed, my love.  Why—­”

“Then,” exclaimed the Prophet, much agitated, and feeling it incumbent upon him to get rid of Mr. Sagittarius at once lest the curiosity of Lady Enid should increase beyond all measure, and lead to an encounter between the two clients of Jellybrand’s, “then kindly give me my directions as briefly as possible, and—­”

There was another tap upon the door.

“What is it?” cried the Prophet, distractedly, “Come in!”

Mr. Ferdinand re-entered very delicately.

“Her ladyship can only stay a minute, sir.  Mrs. Merillia hopes you can leave your business—­I said as you was very busy, sir—­and come up to the drawing-room.”