“She? Who?” said Madame, sharply.
She had not seen Lady Enid.
“All of us, my love, all of us,” returned her husband, as the Prophet succeeded in shepherding them on to the pavement.
“Good-bye,” he cried.
With almost inconceivable rapidity he shut the door. As he did so two vague echoes seemed to faint on his ear. One was male, a dreamlike—“First post, Thursday!” The other was female, a fairylike—“Jactum alea sunt.”
CHAPTER IX
THE PROPHET BEGINS TO CARRY OUT HIS DIRECTIONS
“Mr. Ferdinand,” said the Prophet the same evening, after he had dressed for dinner, “what has become of the telescope?”
He spoke in a low voice, not unlike that of a confirmed conspirator, and glanced rather furtively around him, as if afraid of being overheard.