"I hope not, Mr. Ferdinand. Still--did he look a nervous sort of lad?"

"He was a trifle pale, sir, about the gills--but a heart of gold, sir, I
feel sure. He wore four medals, sir."

"Four medals! Nevertheless, he may have been frightened to go to Mr.
Malkiel's door. That will do, Mr. Ferdinand."

Mr. Ferdinand was about to bow and retire when the Prophet, after a
moment of hesitation, added,--

"Stay, Mr. Ferdinand. Mrs. Merillia has gone to the Gaiety Theatre
to-night. I expect her back at half-past eleven. She may need assistance
on her return."

"Assistance, sir! Mrs. Merillia, sir!"

Mr. Ferdinand's luminous eyes shone with amazement.

"She may--I say she _may_--have to be carried to bed."

Mr. Ferdinand's jaw dropped. He gave at the knees and was obliged to
cling to a Chippendale cabinet for support.

"Have an armchair ready in the hall in case of necessity and tell
Gustavus to sit up. Mrs. Merillia must not be dropped. You understand.
That will do, Mr. Ferdinand."

Mr. Ferdinand endeavoured to bow, and ultimately succeeded in retiring.