will not deceive you, I have
made money. In another ten years' time, when I have laid by sufficient,
I tell you straight, sir, that I shall go out of prophecy, right out of
it."

"Then your Capricor--that is your son--will not carry on the--"

"Capricornus a prophet, sir!" cried Malkiel. "Not if Madame and I know
it. No, sir, Capricornus is to be an architect."

As Malkiel pronounced the last words he flung his black overcoat wide
open with an ample gesture, thrust one hand into his breast, and assumed
the fixed and far-seeing gaze of a man in a cabinet photograph. He
seemed lost to his surroundings, and rapt by some great vision of
enchanted architects, busy in drawing plans of the magic buildings of
the future ages. The Prophet felt that it would be impious to disturb
him. Malkiel's reverie was long, and indeed the two prophets might well
have been sitting in Jellybrand's parlour now, had not a violent sneeze
called for the pink assistance of the flight of storks, and brought the
sneezer down to the level of ordinary humanity.

"Yes, sir--I give you my word Capricornus is to be an architect,"
repeated Malkiel. "What do you say to that?"

"Is it--is it really a better profession than that of prophecy?" asked
the Prophet, rather nervously.

Malkiel smiled mournfully.

"Sir, it may not be more lucrative, but it is more select. Madame will
not mix with prophets, but she has a 'day,' sir, on the banks of the
Mouse, and she has gathered around her a very pleasant and select little
circle."

"Indeed."

"Yes, sir. Architects and their wives. You understand?"

"Quite," rejoined the Prophet, "quite."

Under the mesmeric influence of Malkiel he began to feel as if
architects were some strange race of sacred beings set apart, denizens
of some holy isle or blessed nook of mediaeval legend. Would he ever
meet them? Would he ever encounter one ranging unfettered where flowed
the waters of the River Mouse?

"They do not know who we are, sir," continued Malkiel, furtively. "To
them and to the whole world--excepting Jellybrand's and you--we are the
Sagittariuses of Sagittarius Lodge, people at ease, sir, living upon our
competence beside the Mouse. They do not see the telescope, sir, in the
locked studio at the top of the lodge. They do not know why sometimes,
on Madame's 'Wednesdays,' I am pale--with sitting up on behalf of the
_Almanac_. For Capricornus's sake and for Corona's all this is hid from
the world. Madame an