“Sir Tiglath,” said Lady Enid, boldly taking the astronomer’s arm. “Come with me. I want you to find Mr. Sagittarius for me. Yes, they do make rather a noise!”
This was in allusion to the guitars, for the astronomer had now placed both hands over his ears in the vain endeavour to exclude “The Gipsies.” Deafness, perhaps, rendered him yielding. In any case, he permitted Lady Enid to detach him from Mrs. Bridgeman and to lead him through the rooms in search of Mr. Sagittarius.
“Perhaps he’s here,” said Lady Enid, entering a darkened chamber. “Oh, no!”
And she hastily moved away, perceiving a large number of devoted adherents of table-tapping busily engaged, with outspread fingers and solemn faces, at their intellectual pursuit. Avoiding the archdeacon, who was now having his nose read by the professor, she conducted the astronomer, rendered strangely meek by the guitars, into a drawing-room near the hall, in which only four people remained—Verano and Mrs. Eliza Doubleway, who were conferring in one corner, and Mr. and Madame Sagittarius, who were apparently having rather more than a few words together in another.
“Ah! there’s Mr. Sagittarius!” said Lady Enid.
“Minnie!” cried Mrs. Eliza, beckoning to Lady Enid. “Minnie, ducky!”
Lady Enid pretended not to hear and tried to hasten with the astronomer towards the Sagittariuses. But Mrs. Eliza was not to be put off.
“Minnie, my pet!” she piped. “Come here, Minnie!”
Lady Enid was obliged to pause.
“What is it, dear Eliza?” she asked, at the same time making a face at the soothsayer to indicate caution.