Mrs. Eliza and Verano rose and approached Lady Enid and the astronomer.
“I was laying the cards last night at Jane Seaman’s—you know, dear, the Angel Gabriel who lives on the Hackney Downs—and whatever do you think? The hace of spades came up three times in conjugation with the Knave of ‘earts!”
“Terrific! Very great!” buzzed Verano, with a strong South American Irish brogue—a real broth of a brogue.
“Wonderful!” said Lady Enid, hastily, endeavouring to pass on.
“Wait a minute, darling. Well, I says to Jane—I was laying the cards for her ‘usband, dear—I says to Jane, I says, without doubt Hisaac is about to pass over, I says, seeing the red boy’s come up in conjugation with the hace. ‘Lord! Mrs. Eliza! Lay them out again,’ she says, ‘for,’ she says, ‘if Hike is going to pass over,’ she says—”
“Extraordinary, dear Mrs. Eliza! You’re a genius!” cried Lady Enid in despair.
“Tremendous! Very big!” buzzed Verano, staring at Sir Tiglath. “You got a very spatulate hand there, sir! Allow me!”
And to Lady Enid’s horror he seized the astronomer’s hand with both his own.
“How dare you tamper with the old astronomer, sir?” roared Sir Tiglath. “Am I in a madhouse? Who are all these crazy Janes! Drop my hand, sir!”
Verano obeyed rather hastily, and Lady Enid convoyed the spluttering astronomer towards the corner which contained Mr. and Madame Sagittarius.