t a glance of apparently
violent invitation at the Prophet, as if suggesting that he must now
amplify and fill in her story. As he did not do so, a heavy silence fell
in the room. Sir Tiglath had returned to his measuring, and Lady Enid,
for the first time, began to look slightly embarrassed. Sending her eyes
vaguely about the apartment, as people do on such occasions, she chanced
to see a newspaper lying on the floor near to her. She bent down towards
it, then raising herself up she said,--

"Mrs. Bridgeman some time ago came to the conclusion that there was
probably oxygen in certain stars, and not only in the fixed stars."

At this remark the astronomer's countenance completely changed. He swung
round in his revolving chair, wagged his huge head from side to side,
and finally roared at the Prophet,--

"Is she telling the truth?"

"I beg your pardon," said the Prophet, bounding on the instruments.

"Get off those precious tools, young man, far more valuable than your
finite carcase! Get off them this moment and answer me--is this young
female speaking the truth?"

The Prophet got off the instruments and, in answer to a firm, Scottish
gesture from Lady Enid, nodded his head twice.

"What!" continued Sir Tiglath, puffing out his cheeks, "a woman be a
pioneer among the Heavenly Bodies!"

The Prophet nodded again, as mechanically as a penny toy.

"The old astronomer is exercised," bawled Sir Tiglath, with every
symptom of acute perturbation. "He is greatly exercised by the narrative
of the young female!"

So saying, he heaved himself up out of his chair and began to roll
rapidly up and down the room, alternately distending his cheeks and
permitting them to collapse.

"I should tell you also, Sir Tiglath," interposed Lady Enid, as if
struck by a sudden idea, "that Mrs. Bridgeman's original adviser and
assistant in her astronomical researches was a certain Mr. Sagittarius,
who is also an intimate friend of Mr. Vivian's."

The Prophet sat down again upon the instruments with a thud.

"Get off those precious tools, young man!" roared the astronomer
furiously. "Would you impose your vile body upon the henchmen of the
stars?"

The Prophet got up again and leaned against the wall.

"I feel unwell," he said in a low voice. "Exceedingly unwell. I regret
that I must really be going."

Lady Enid did not seem to regret this abrupt indisposition. Perhaps she
thought that she had already accomplished her purpose. At