“Get off those precious tools, young man!” roared the astronomer furiously.  “Would you impose your vile body upon the henchmen of the stars?”

The Prophet got up again and leaned against the wall.

“I feel unwell,” he said in a low voice.  “Exceedingly unwell.  I regret that I must really be going.”

Lady Enid did not seem to regret this abrupt indisposition.  Perhaps she thought that she had already accomplished her purpose.  At any rate she got up too, and prepared to take leave.  The astronomer was still in great excitement.

“Who is this Mr. Sagittarius?” he bellowed.

“A man of science.  Isn’t he, Mr. Vivian?”

“Yes.”

“An astronomer of remarkable attainments, Mr. Vivian?”

“Yes.”

“One knows not his abnormal name,” cried the astronomer.

“He is very modest, very retiring.  Mrs. Bridgeman’s is really the only house in London at which you can meet him.  Isn’t that so, Mr. Vivian?”

“Yes.”

“You say he has made investigation into the possibility of there being oxygen in many of the holy stars?”

“Mr. Vivian!”

“Yes.”

“The old astronomer must encounter him!” exclaimed Sir Tiglath, puffing furiously as he rolled about the room.

“Mr. Vivian will arrange it,” Lady Enid said, with sparkling eyes, “at Mrs. Bridgeman’s.  That’s a bargain.  Come, Mr. Vivian!”

And almost before the Prophet knew what she was doing, she had maneuvered him out into Kensington Square, and was pioneering him swiftly towards the High street.

“We’ll take a hansom home,” she said gaily, “and the man can drive as fast as ever he likes.”

In half a minute the Prophet found himself in a hansom, bowling along towards Mayfair.  The first words he said, when he was able to speak, were,—­

“Why—­Mr. Sagittarius—­oh, why?”

Lady Enid smiled happily.

“It just struck me while I was talking to Sir Tiglath that I would introduce Mr. Sagittarius into the affair.”

“Oh, why?”

“Why—­because it seemed such an utterly silly thing to do,” she answered.  “Didn’t it?”

The Prophet was silent.

“Didn’t it?” she repeated.  “A thing worthy of Miss Minerva.”

It seemed to the Prophet just then as if Miss Minerva were going to wreck his life and prepare him accurately for a future in Bedlam.

“And besides you wouldn’t tell me who Mr. Sagittarius was,” she added.

The Prophet began to realise that it is very dangerous indeed to deny the curiosity of a woman.

“What a mercy it is,” Lady Enid continued lightly, “that Malkiel is a syndicate, instead of a man.  If he wasn’t, and Sir Tiglath ever got to know him, he would try to murder him, and how foolish that would be!  It would be rather amusing, though, to see Sir Tiglath do a thoroughly foolish thing, wouldn’t it!”