“Then why are you feeling about, sir? Why are you feeling about?”
“Was I?” faltered the Prophet.
“You are looking for another glass of wine, perhaps?”
“No, indeed,” said the Prophet, desperately. “For anything but that.”
But Malkiel, moved by some abruptly formed resolution, called suddenly in a powerful voice,—
“Frederick Smith!”
“Here, Mr. Sagittarius!” cried the young librarian, appearing with suspicious celerity upon the parlour threshold.
“Draw the cork of the second bottle, Frederick Smith,” said Malkiel, impressively. “This gentleman is about to take the pledge”—on hearing this ironic paradox the Prophet stood up, very much in the attitude formerly assumed by Malkiel when about to dodge in the library—“that I shall put to him,” concluded Malkiel, also standing up, and assuming the library posture of the Prophet.
Indeed the situation of the library seemed about to be accurately reversed in the parlour of Jellybrand’s.
The young librarian assisted the cork to emerge phlegmatically from the neck of the second bottle of champagne, mechanically smacking his lips the while.