elve. Have you had a pleasant dinner?"

"Very. Stanyer Phelps, the American, was there and very witty. And we
had a marvellous _supreme de volaille_. Everybody asked after you."

Mrs. Merillia nodded, like an accustomed queen who receives her due. She
knew very well that she was the most popular old woman in London, knew
it too well to think about it.

"Well, good-night, grannie."

The Prophet bent to kiss her, his heart filled with compunction at the
thought of the promise he was about to break. It seemed to him almost
more than sacrilegious to make of this dear and honoured ornament of
old age a vehicle for the satisfaction of the vulgar ambitions and
disagreeable curiosity of the couple who dwelt beside the Mouse.

"Good-night, my dear boy."

She kissed him, then added,--

"You like Lady Enid, don't you?"

"Very much."

"So does Robert Green. He thinks her such a thoroughly sensible girl."

"Bob! Does he?" said the Prophet, concealing a slight smile.

"Yes. If you want her to get on with you, Hennessey, you should come up
to tea when she is here."

"I couldn't to-day, grannie."

"You were really busy?"

"Very busy indeed."

"I suppose you only saw her for a moment on the stairs?"

"That was all."

It was true, for Lady Enid had scarcely stayed to speak to the Prophet,
having hurried out in the hope of discovering who were the "two parties"
he had been entertaining on the ground floor.

Mrs. Merillia dropped the subject.

"Good-night, Hennessey," she said. "Go to bed at once. You look quite
tired. I am so thankful you have given up that horrible astronomy."

The Prophet did not reply, but, as he went out of the room, he knew, for
the first time, what criminals with consciences feel like when they are
engaged in following their dread profession.

As he walked across the landing he heard a clock strike eleven. He
started, hastened into his room, tore off his coat, replaced it with
a quilted smoking-jacket, sprang lightly to his table, seized a
planisphere, or star-map, which he had succeeded in obtaining that
night from a small working astronomer's shop in the Edgeware Road,
and, mindful of the terms of his oath and the decided opinion of Robert
Green, scurried hastily, but very gingerly, down the stairs. This time
Mrs. Merillia did not hear him. She had indeed become absorbed in a new
romance, written by a very rising young Montenegrin who was just then
making some stir in the literary circle