Mr. Ferdinand cast a glance of respectful, but unlimited, horror upon the Prophet’s guests and retired, while the Prophet, calling upon all his manhood, turned to Mr. Sagittarius.
“I regret more than I can say that I shall be obliged now to obey my grandmother’s summons,” he said courteously. “Suppose we defer this—this pleasant little discussion to some future oc—”
“Impossible, sir!” cried Mr. Sagittarius. “Quite impossible. You must get to work to-night, and how can you do it without your directions?”
“Oh, I can manage all right,” said the Prophet, desperately. “I can give a guess as to—”
“Non sunt ad astrae mollibus a terrus viae!” cried Madame. “The road from Berkeley square to the stars is not so easy, is it, Jupiter?”
“No indeed, my love. Why—”
“Then,” exclaimed the Prophet, much agitated, and feeling it incumbent upon him to get rid of Mr. Sagittarius at once lest the curiosity of Lady Enid should increase beyond all measure, and lead to an encounter between the two clients of Jellybrand’s, “then kindly give me my directions as briefly as possible, and—”
There was another tap upon the door.
“What is it?” cried the Prophet, distractedly, “Come in!”
Mr. Ferdinand re-entered very delicately.