There is a point at which a gentleman must either cease to be a
gentleman or cease to be a man. I have reached that point, Gustavus, and
I am about to cease to be a gentleman."
And, with this terrible statement, the Prophet advanced with a sort of
appalling deliberation and threw the front door wide open.
Upon the doorstep stood Lady Enid wrapped in a pink opera cloak and Sir
Tiglath Butt shrouded in the Inverness. The Prophet faced them with a
marble demeanour.
"I thought you'd be here, Mr. Vivian," began Lady Enid in a bright
manner.
"I am here," said the Prophet, speaking in a voice that might well have
issued from a statue.
"Where is he?" roared Sir Tiglath. "Where is he? Oh-h-h-h!"
"Sir Tiglath means Malkiel," explained Lady Enid. "He is most anxious to
meet him."
"Why?" said the Prophet, still in the same inhuman voice.
"Well, we shall see when they do meet," said Lady Enid, throwing a look
of keen curiosity at the astronomer. "I rather think--" here she lowered
her voice and whispered in the Prophet's ear--"I rather think Sir
Tiglath wishes to try if he can murder Malkiel. Do you believe he could
bring it off?"
"I'm sure I don't know," answered the Prophet, with stony indifference.
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