He suddenly assumed a formidable manner, and continued,—
“And now, sir, that we are alone—”
But Madame interrupted him.
“Kindly permit our host to succour my fatigue, Jupiter,” she said severely. “I am greatly upset by the journey. When I am restored we can proceed to business. At present I am fit only for consolation.”
Mr. Sagittarius subsided, and the Prophet hastily assisted the victim of prolonged travel to some buttered toast. Having also attended to the wants of her precipitate underling, he thought it a good opportunity to proceed to a full explanation with the august couple, and he therefore remarked, with an ingratiating and almost tender smile,—
“I think I ought to tell you at once that there will be no need for any further anxiety on your part. I have put down my telescope and have—well, in fact, I have decided once and for all to give up prophecy for the future.”
The Prophet, in his innocence, had expected that this declaration of policy would exercise a soothing influence upon his guests, more especially when he added—it is to be feared with some insincerity,—
“I have come to the conclusion that I overrated my powers, as amateurs will, you know, and that I have never really possessed any special talent in that direction. I think I shall take up golf instead, or perhaps the motor car.”
He spoke deliberately in a light-minded, even frivolous, manner, toying airily with a sugar biscuit, as he leaned back in his chair, which stood opposite to Madame Sagittarius’s. To his great surprise his well-meaning remarks were received with every symptom of grave dissatisfaction by his illustrious companions. Madame Sagittarius threw herself suddenly forward with a most vivacious snort, and her husband’s face was immediately overcast by a threatening gloom that seemed to portend some very disagreeable expression of adverse humour.
“That won’t do, sir, at this time of day!” he exclaimed. “You should have thought of that yesterday. That won’t do at all, will it, Madame?”