“I don’t know, sir, indeed,” replied Mr. Sagittarius. “I should not like to express an opinion on the point. If you will excu—”
“Sir, the old astronomer will not excuse you,” roared Sir Tiglath, forcibly preventing Mr. Sagittarius, who was pale as ashes, from escaping into the farther room. “He will not be run away from by everybody in this manner.”
“I beg pardon, sir, I had no intention of running away,” said Mr. Sagittarius, making one last despairing effort to assume his toga virilibus.
“Then why did you do it, sir? Tell the old astronomer that!” cried Sir Tiglath, seizing him by the arm. “And tell him, moreover, what you and the old female Bridgeman have been about together?”
“Nothing, sir; I swear that Mrs. Bridgeman and myself have never—”
“Never made investigations into the possibility of there being oxygen in many of the holy stars? Do you affirm that, sir?”
“I do!” cried Mr. Sagittarius. “I am an outside broker.”
“Do you affirm that you are no astronomer, sir? Do you declare that you are not a man of science?”
“I do! I do!”
“Not an astronomer of remarkable attainments, but very modest and retiring withal? Oh-h-h!”