Exactly as he uttered these inspiring words the hall clock growled, like a very large dog, and struck two. Sir Tiglath started and caught hold of Gustavus, who started in his turn and shrank away. The Prophet alone stood up to the clock, which finished its remark with a click, and resumed its habitual occupation of ticking.
“Pray begin, Sir Tiglath,” said the Prophet.
“The old astronomer—must have a—a—a—candle.”
“Here is one,” said the Prophet, handing the desired article.
“A lighted candle.”
“Why lighted? Oh, so that you can see to murder him! Gustavus, light the candle.”
Gustavus, who was trembling a good deal more than an autumn leaf, complied after about fifteen unavailing attempts.
“There, Sir Tiglath,” said the Prophet. “Now you can begin.” And he seated himself upon a settee, leaned back and crossed his legs.
“You will not accompany the old astronomer? Oh-h-h”
“No. I will rest here. When you have found the ruffian and murdered him, I shall be glad to hear your news.”