“Ah! a nip is hardly on all fours with a bradawl, Gustavus.”

“P’r’aps not, Mr. Ferdinand, but it’s the nearest ever I got to it.”

Mr. Ferdinand said no more, but when he retired to rest that night he double-locked his door, and dreamt of bradawls till he woke, unrefreshed, the next morning to find the area full of telegrams.

Meanwhile the Prophet was conscientiously fulfilling his promise and keeping the oath he had pledged his honour over, although he had to work under a grave disadvantage in the total loss of his planisphere, or star-map.

He entered the butler’s pantry precisely on the stroke of eleven, and found it, to his great relief, untenanted.  The dwarf was no longer at the telescope, and the silence in the region dedicated to Mrs. Merillia’s menials was profound.  The night, too, was clear and starry, propitious for prophetic labours, and as the Prophet gazed out upon the deserted square through the open window a strange peace descended upon his fevered soul.  Nature, with all her shining mysteries, her distant reticences and revelations, calmed the turmoil within him.  He looked upon the area railings and upon the sky, and smiled.

Then he looked for the star-map.  He perceived in a very prominent position upon a silver salver, the bradawl laid out, according to order, by the obedient Mr. Ferdinand.  He perceived also the open pot of “Butler’s Own Special Pomade,” but the planisphere had been removed from it.  Where could it have been bestowed?  The Prophet instituted a careful search.  He explored cupboards, drawers—­such at least as were unlocked—­in vain.  He glanced into a silver teapot reposing on a shelf, between the pages of an almanac hanging on the wall, among some back numbers of the Butler’s Gazette, which were lying in a corner.  But the planisphere was nowhere to be found, and at last in despair he resolved to do without it, and to trust to his fairly accurate knowledge of the heavens.  He, therefore, took up his station by the window and proceeded to extract from the pocket of his smoking-jacket the account-book in which he had dotted down the directions of “Madame and self.”  They were very vague, for his dots had been agitated.  Still, by the help of the George the Third candlestick, in which was a lighted taper, the Prophet was able to make out enough to refresh his memory.  He was to begin by placing his beloved grandmother in the claws of the crab.  Leaning upon the sill of the window he found the crab and—­breathing a short prayer for forgiveness—­committed his dear relation to its offices.  He then retreated and, assuming very much the position of Mr. Ferdinand, applied his right eye to the telescope, at the same time holding his left eye firmly shut with the forefinger of his left hand.  At once the majesty of the starry heavens burst upon him in all its glory.