“On that occasion you may remember,” Lady Enid went on with increasing vivacity and assurance, “you declined to speak.  This naturally damped Mr. Vivian—­who is very sensitive, though you might not think it”—­here she cast a glance at the instruments on which the Prophet sat—­“and his friend.  So much so, in fact, that unless I had undertaken to act for them I daresay they would have let the matter drop.  Wouldn’t you, Mr. Vivian?” she added swiftly to the Prophet.

“Certainly,” he answered, like a creature in a dream.  “Certainly.”

“More especially as the friend, Mrs. Vane Bridgeman”—­the Prophet at this point made an inarticulate, but very audible, noise that might have meant anything, and that did in fact mean “Merciful Heavens! what will become of me?”—­“Mrs. Vane Bridgeman is also of a very retiring disposition and would hate to put such a man as you are to the slightest inconvenience.”

Sir Tiglath took another bite at the muffin, which seemed to be getting the worst of the tete-a-tete, rummaged among the mess of things that loaded his table till he found a gigantic book, opened it, and began to compare some measurements in it with those he had made on the foolscap paper.  His brick-red face glistened in the light of the lamp that stood beside him.  His moist red lips shone, and he seemed totally unaware that there was anyone in the chamber endeavouring to gain his attention.

“In these circumstances, Sir Tiglath,” Lady Enid went on, with pleasant ease, and a sort of homespun self-possession that trumpeted, like a military band, her sensibleness, “Mr. Vivian consulted me as to what to do; whether to give the whole thing up, or to make an appeal to you at the risk of disturbing you and taking up a little of your precious time.  When he had explained the affair to me, however, I at once felt certain that you would wish to know of it.  Didn’t I, Mr. Vivian?  Didn’t I say, only this afternoon, that we must at once take a four-wheeler to Sir Tiglath’s?”

“Yes, you did,” said the Prophet, in a muffled voice.

“For I knew that no investigation, no serious, reverent investigation into heavenly, that is starry, conditions could be indifferent to you, Sir Tiglath.”

The astronomer, who had been in the act of lifting the last morsel of the muffin to his mouth, put it down again, and Lady Enid, thus vehemently encouraged, went on more rapidly.

“You know of Mr. Vivian’s interest, almost more than interest, in the planets.  This interest is shared, was indeed prompted by Mrs. Bridgeman, a woman of serious attainments and a cultivated mind.  Isn’t she, Mr. Vivian?”

The Prophet heard a voice reply, “Oh, yes, she is.”  He often wondered afterwards whether it was his own.

“It seems that she, during certain researches, hit upon an idea with regard to—­well, shall I say with regard to certain stars?—­which she communicated to Mr. Vivian in the hope that he would carry it further, and in fact clear it up.  Didn’t she, Mr. Vivian?”