journey in the
train, the reembarkment upon the purple 'bus from the gentle eminence
sloping towards the coal-yard, the long pilgrimage towards the central
districts with his very outlying companions. He recalled the peculiar
numbness that strove against the desperation of his thoughts, his feeble
efforts to lay plans frustrated by a perpetual buzzing in his brain, his
flitting visions of that gentle grandmother round whose venerable age
and dignity he was about to group such peculiar personalities, and
beneath whose roof he was about to indulge in such unholy prophetic
practices. Long afterwards--but even then he could not smile as men so
often smile when they look back on lost despairs!

He and his companions spoke but little together as they journeyed.
Occasionally Madame and Mr. Sagittarius conversed in husky whispers,
like brigands the Prophet thought, and the veiled click of Madame's
contralto struck through the startled air. But mostly a silence
prevailed--a silence alive with fate.

At the corner of Air Street they got out and began to walk down
Piccadilly towards the Berkeley square. It was now evening. The lamps
were lighted and the murmur of strolling crowds filled the gloomy air.
Madame stared feverishly about her, excited by the press, the flashing
hansoms and the gaily-illuminated shops. Once, as she passed Benoist's,
she murmured "_O festum dies_!" and again, by the Berkeley, when she
was momentarily jostled by a very large and umbrageous tramp who
had apparently been celebrating the joys of beggary--"_Acto profanus
vulgam_!" But generally she was silent, enwrapped, no doubt, in bookish
thought. When, at length, they stood before the door of number one
thousand she breathed a heavy sigh.

"Please," said the Prophet, in a trembling voice, "please enter quietly.
My grandmother is very unwell."

"Ankles seems to be a very painful complaint, sir," said Mr.
Sagittarius. "But Madame and self are not in the habit of creating
uproar by our movements."

"No, no. Of course not. Still--on tiptoe if you don't mind."

"I cannot walk on tiptoe," said Madame, in a voice that sounded to
the Prophet terrifically powerful. "The attitude is precarious and
undignified. As the great Juvenile--"

"Yes, yes. Ah! that's it!"

He managed to get his key into the door and very gingerly opened it.
Madame and Mr. Sagittarius stepped into the hall, followed closely
by the Prophet, who was content on conveying them unobserved