“Yes, ma’am.”

“It is two o’clock now, Hennessey.  The Charing Cross office is open till midnight, I believe, so at the present rate you should only have about ninety more telegrams to-day.  But if you have reason to expect—­”

Mr. Ferdinand re-entered.

“Mrs. Hendrick Marshall has called, ma’am.  She desired me to say she was passing the door and was much horrified to find that you are so near the point, ma’am.”

“What point, Mr. Ferdinand?”

“Of death, ma’am.  She had no idea at all, ma’am.”

“Oh, thank Mrs. Hendrick Marshall, Mr. Ferdinand, and say we shall try to keep from the point for the present.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“—­That the numbers will go up as the afternoon draws on, Hennessey—­”

“Grannie, haven’t I sworn, and have you ever known me to tell you a—­”

Suddenly the Prophet stopped short, thinking how that very night he would be forced by his oath to “Madame and self” to break his promise to his grandmother, how already it would have been broken had not Mr. Ferdinand on the previous night been in possession of the telescope.

“The Chancellor of the Exchequer, ma’am, desires his compliments, and he begs you to last out, if possible, till he has fetched Sir William Broadbent to see you.  He is going there on his bike, ma’am, and had no conception you was dying till he knew it this moment, ma’am.”

“Thank the Chancellor, Mr. Ferdinand, and say that though we must all go out some day I have no desire for a dissolution at present, and shall do my best to prove myself worthy of my constitution.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mr. Ferdinand retired, brushing away a tear.

“It would not be feasible, I suppose, Hennessey, to station Gustavus permanently at the telegraph office with a small hamper, so that he might collect the wires in it as they arrive and convey them here, once an hour or so, entering by the area door.  I thought perhaps that might obviate—­”

Mr. Ferdinand once more appeared, looking very puffy about the eyes.

“If you please, ma’am, La—­ady Julia Pos—­ostlethwaite is below, and asks whe—­ether you are truly going ma’am?”

“Going?  Where to, Mr. Ferdinand?”

“The other pla—­ace, ma’am.  Her ladyship is crying something terrible, ma’am, and says, till she no—­no—­noticed the fact she had no—­no—­notion you was leaving us so soon, ma’am.”

Here Mr. Ferdinand uttered a very strange and heartrending sound that was rather like the bark of a dog with a bad cold in its head.

“It is really very odd so many people finding out so soon!” said Mrs. Merillia in some surprise.  “Tell her ladyship, Mr. Ferdinand, that—­”

But at this moment there was the sound of feet on the stairs, and Lady Enid Thistle hurried into the room, closely followed by Mr. Robert Green.  Lady Enid went up at once to Mrs. Merillia.

“I am so shocked and distressed to see your news, dear Mrs. Merillia,” she cried affectionately.  “But,” she added, with much inquisitiveness, “is it really true that if anyone tapped on the door you would certainly die?  How can you be so sure of yourself.”