Then the swing door sang, and the Prophet, opening his eyes,
perceived Madame Malkiel moving forward with considerable vivacity,
and screaming as she moved, her bonnet depending down her back and the
rabbit-skins flowing from her ample shoulders. Immediately behind her
ran her spouse, holding in one hand a silver pepper castor, and in the
other a small and very beautifully finished bronze teapot of the William
of Orange period. The worthy couple fleeted by, and the Prophet turned
his expressionless eyes towards the swing door expecting immediately
to perceive Sir Tiglath Butt in valiant pursuit. As no such figure
presented itself, and as the Malkiels were now beginning to mount
the stairs with continually increasing velocity, the Prophet slowly
uncrossed his legs, and was thinking of getting upon his feet when there
came a loud knock upon the hall door.
"Gustavus!" said the Prophet, glancing round.
He perceived the footman lying in a dead faint near the umbrella stand.
"Oh!" he said, speaking to himself aloud. "Oh! Then I must go myself."
Acting upon his conception of his duty, he accordingly walked to the
front door, opened it, and found the policeman outside supporting the
senseless form of Sir Tiglath Butt in one hand and holding a broken
truncheon in the other.
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