!"

"What?"

"Crampton St. Peter. N. That is the point."

"Very well--Crampton St. Peteren, totally and entirely unnecessary?"

"You desire my revelation, sir? You desire to enter into the bosom of
a family that hitherto has dwelt apart, has lain as I may say _perdew_
beside the secret waters of the River Mouse? Is it indeed so?"

"Oh, I beg your pardon," cried the Prophet, hastily. "I would not for
the world intrude upon--"

"Those hallowed precincts! Well, perhaps you have the right.
Jellybrand's has betrayed me to you. You know my name, my profession.
Why should you not know more? Perhaps it is better so."

With the sudden energy of a man who is reckless of fate he seized his
goblet, poured into it at least a shilling's worth of "creaming foam,"
drained it to the dregs and, shaking back his matted hair with a leonine
movement of the head, exclaimed,--

"Malkiel the First, who founded the _Almanac_, lay _perdew_ all his
life."

"Beside the secret waters of the River Mouse?" the Prophet could not
help interposing.

"No, sir. He would never have gone so far as that. But he lived and died
in Susan Road beside the gas-works. He was a great man."

"I'm sure he was," said the Prophet, heartily.

"He wished me to live and die there too," said Malkiel. "But there are
limits, sir, even to the forbearance of women. Madame was affected,
painfully affected, by the gas, sir. It stank in her nostrils--to use
a figure. And then there was another drawback that she could not get
over."

"Indeed!"

"The sweeps, sir."

"I beg your pardon!" said the Prophet.

"I said--the sweeps."

"I heard you--well?"

"Being the only people that were not, in the whole road, made for
loneliness, sir."

The Prophet was entirely _bouleverse_.

"I'm afraid I'm very stupid, but really I--" he began.

"Is it possible that you live in London, sir, and are not aware
that Susan Road lies in the most sought-after portion of the sweeps'
quarter?" said Malkiel, with pitying amazement.

The Prophet blushed with shame.

"I beg your pardon. Of course--I understand. Pray go on."

"It made for loneliness, sir."

"Naturally."

"Their hours were not our hours. And then the professional colour!
Madame said it was like living among the Sandwich Islanders. And so, to
an extent, it was. My father had left a very tidy bit of money--a
very tidy bit indeed, and we resolved to move. But where? That was the
problem. For I was not as other men.