The Prophet did so. But his eye blinked with fatigue and the heavens swam before it.
“There is no Crab to-night,” he said. “I assure you on my honour there is none.”
Exactly as he finished making this statement a low whistle rang through the silence of the night. The Prophet started, Madame jumped, and Malkiel bounded on the loving-cup.
The whistle was repeated.
“It’s the thing!” whispered the Prophet.
“What thing?” inquired Madame, who had become rather pale.
“The dark thing that told me the Crab was dressed. It has come again.”
“My word!” ejaculated Madame, looking uneasily around. “Where is it?”
Just then Malkiel the Second’s feet once more began to tremble among the plate of Mrs. Merillia.
“You hear it!” said the Prophet, much impressed.