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diff --git a/2463-h/2463-h.htm b/2463-h/2463-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8288cdd --- /dev/null +++ b/2463-h/2463-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15613 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Prophet of Berkeley Square, by Robert Hichens + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's The Prophet of Berkeley Square, by Robert Hichens + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Prophet of Berkeley Square + +Author: Robert Hichens + +Release Date: April 3, 2006 [EBook #2463] +Last Updated: September 24, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PROPHET OF BERKELEY SQUARE *** + + + + +Produced by Dagny; Emma Dudding; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE PROPHET OF BERKELEY SQUARE + </h1> + <h2> + By Robert Hichens + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <h3> + MRS. MERILLIA IS CARRIED TO BED + </h3> + <p> + The great telescope of the Prophet was carefully adjusted upon its lofty, + brass-bound stand in the bow window of Number One Thousand Berkeley + Square. It pointed towards the remarkably bright stars which twinkled in + the December sky over frosty London, those guardian stars which always + seemed to the Prophet to watch with peculiar solicitude over the most + respectable neighbourhood in which he resided. The polestar had its eye + even now upon the mansion of an adjacent ex-premier, the belt of Orion was + not oblivious of a belted earl’s cosy red-brick home just opposite, and + the house of a certain famous actor and actress close by had been taken by + the Great Bear under its special protection. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet’s butler, Mr. Ferdinand—that bulky and veracious + gentleman—threw open the latticed windows of the drawing-room and + let the cold air rush blithely in. Then he made up the fire carefully, + placed a copy of Mr. Malkiel’s <i>Almanac</i>, bound in dull pink and + silver brocade by Miss Clorinda Dolbrett of the Cromwell Road, upon a + small tulip-wood table near the telescope, patted a sofa cushion + affectionately on the head, glanced around with the meditative eye of the + butler born not made, and quitted the comfortable apartment with a + salaried, but soft, footstep. + </p> + <p> + It was a pleasant chamber, this drawing-room of Number One Thousand. It + spoke respectfully of the generations that were past and seemed serenely + certain of a comfortable future. There was no too modern uneasiness about + it, no trifling, gim-crack furniture constructed to catch the eye and the + angles of any one venturing to seek repose upon it, no unmeaning rubbish + of ornaments or hectic flummery of second-rate pictures. Above the high + oaken mantel-piece was a little pure bust in marble of the Prophet when a + small boy. To right and left were pretty miniatures in golden frames of + the Prophet’s delightfully numerous grandmothers. Here might be seen Mrs. + Prothero, the great ship-builder’s faithful wife, in blue brocade, and + Lady Camptown, who reigned at Bath, in grey tabinet and diamond buckles, + when Miss Jane Austen was writing her first romance; Mrs. Susan + Burlington, who knew Lord Byron—a remarkable fact—and Lady + Sophia Green, who knew her own mind, a fact still more remarkable. The + last-named lady wore black with a Roman nose, and the combination was + admirably convincing. Here might also be observed Mrs. Stuefitt, Mistress + of the Mazurka, and the Lady Jane Follington, of whom George the Second + had spoken openly in terms of approbation. She affected plum colour and + had eyes like sloes—the fashionable hue in the + neat-foot-and-pretty-ankle period. The flames of the fire twinkled + brightly over this battalion of deuced fine women, who were all, without + one exception, the grandmothers—in various degrees—of the + Prophet. When speaking of them, in the highest terms, he never + differentiated them by the adjectives great, or great-great. They were all + kind and condescending enough to be his grandmothers. For a man of his + sensitive, delicate and grateful disposition this was enough. He thought + them all quite perfect, and took them all under the protection of his soft + and beaming eyes. + </p> + <p> + Of Mrs. Merillia, the live grandmother with whom he had the great felicity + to dwell in Berkeley Square, he seldom said anything in public praise. The + incense he offered at her shrine rose, most sweetly perfumed, from his + daily life. The hearth of this agreeable and grandmotherly chamber was + attractive with dogs, the silver cage beside it with green love-birds. + Upon the floor was a heavy, dull-blue carpet over which—as has been + intimated—even a butler so heavy as Mr. Ferdinand could go softly. + The walls were dressed with a dull blue paper that looked like velvet. + </p> + <p> + Here and there upon them hung a picture: a landscape of George Morland, + lustily English, a Cotman, a Cuyp—cows in twilight—a Reynolds, + faded but exquisitely genteel. A lovely little harpsichord—meditating + on Scarlatti—stood in one angle, a harp, tied with most delicate + ribands of ivory satin powdered with pimpernels, in another. Many waxen + candles shed a tender and unostentatious radiance above their careful + grease-catchers. Upon pretty tables lay neat books by Fanny Burney, + Beatrice Harraden, Mary Wilkins, and Max Beerbohm, also the poems of Lord + Byron and of Lord de Tabley. Near the hearth was a sofa on which an + emperor might have laid an easy head that wore a crown, and before every + low and seductive chair was set a low and seductive footstool. + </p> + <p> + A grandmother’s clock pronounced the hour of ten in a frail and elegant + voice as the finely-carved oak door was opened, and the Prophet seriously + entered this peaceful room, carrying a copy of the <i>Meditations of + Marcus Aurelius</i> in his hand. + </p> + <p> + He was a neatly-made little man of fashionable, even of modish, cut, + spare, smart and whimsical, with a clean-shaved, small-featured face, + large, shining brown eyes, abundant and slightly-waving brown hair, that + could only be parted, with the sweetest sorrow, in the centre of his + well-shaped, almost philosophical head, and movements light and temperate + as those of a meditative squirrel. Having just dined he was naturally in + evening dress, with a butterfly tie, gleaming pumps, and a buttonhole of + violets. He shut the door gently, glanced at his nice-looking + grandmothers, and, walking forward very quietly and demurely, applied his + eye to the telescope, lowering himself slightly by a Sandow exercise, + which he had practised before he became a prophet. Having remained in this + position of astronomical observation for some minutes, he deviated into + the upright, closed the window, and tinkled a small silver bell that stood + on the tulip-wood table beside Malkiel’s <i>Almanac</i>. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand appeared, looking respectfully buoyant. + </p> + <p> + “Has Mr. Malkiel sent any reply to my inquiry, Mr. Ferdinand?” asked the + Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “He has not, sir,” replied Mr. Ferdinand, sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “Did the boy messenger say he delivered my note?” + </p> + <p> + “He said so, sir, on his Bible oath, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you believe him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir!” responded Mr. Ferdinand, in a shocked voice, “surely a London + lad would not be found to tell a lie!” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not, Mr. Ferdinand. Still—did he look a nervous sort of + lad?” + </p> + <p> + “He was a trifle pale, sir, about the gills—but a heart of gold, + sir, I feel sure. He wore four medals, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Four medals! Nevertheless, he may have been frightened to go to Mr. + Malkiel’s door. That will do, Mr. Ferdinand.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand was about to bow and retire when the Prophet, after a moment + of hesitation, added,— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Assistance, sir! Mrs. Merillia, sir!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand’s luminous eyes shone with amazement. + </p> + <p> + “She may—I say she <i>may</i>—have to be carried to bed.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand’s jaw dropped. He gave at the knees and was obliged to cling + to a Chippendale cabinet for support. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand endeavoured to bow, and ultimately succeeded in retiring. + When his tremulous shoulders were no longer visible, the Prophet opened + Marcus Aurelius, and, seating himself in a corner of the big couch by the + fire, crossed his legs one over the other and began to read that timid + Ancient’s consolatory, but unconvincing, remarks. Occasionally he paused, + however, murmured doubtfully, “Will she have to be carried to bed?” shook + his head mournfully and then resumed his reading. + </p> + <p> + While he thus employs his time, we must say a word or two about him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hennessey Vivian was now a man of thirty-eight, of excellent fortune, + of fine connections, and of admirable disposition. He had become an orphan + as soon as it was in his power to do so, having lost his father—Captain + Vivian of Her Majesty’s Tenth Lancers—some months before, and his + mother—who had been a Merillia of Chipping Sudbury—a few + minutes after his birth. In these unfortunate circumstances, over which + he, poor infant, had absolutely no control—whatever unkind people + might say!—he devolved upon his mother’s mother, the handsome and + popular Mrs. Merillia, who assumed his charge with the rosy alacrity + characteristic of her in all her undertakings. With her the little + Hennessey had passed his infantine years, blowing happy bubbles, presiding + over the voyages of his own private Noah—from the Army and Navy + Stores, with two hundred animals of both sexes!—eating pap prepared + by Mrs. Merillia’s own <i>chef</i>, and sleeping in a cot hung with sunny + silk that might have curtained Venus or have shaken about Aurora as she + rose in the first morning of the world. From her he had acquired the + alphabet and many a ginger-nut and decorative bonbon. And from her, too, + he had set forth, with tears, in his new Eton jacket and broad white + collar, to go to Mr. Chapman’s preparatory school for little boys at + Slough. Here he remained for several years, acquiring a respect for the + poet Gray and a love of Slough peppermint that could only cease with life. + Here too he made friends with Robert Green, son of Lord Churchmore, who + was afterwards to be a certain influence in his life. His existence at + Slough was happy. Indeed, so great was his affection for the place that + his removal to Eton cost him suffering scarcely less acute than that which + presently attended his departure from Eton to Christchurch. Over his + sensations on leaving Oxford we prefer to draw a veil, only saying that + his last outlook—as an undergraduate—over her immemorial + towers was as hazy as the average Cabinet Minister’s outlook over the + events of the day and the desires of the community. + </p> + <p> + But if the moisture of the Prophet did him credit at that painful period + of his life, it must be allowed that his behaviour on being formally + introduced into London Society showed no puling regret, no backward + longings after echoing colleges, lost dons and the scouts that are no + more. He was quite at his ease, and displayed none of the high-pitched + contempt of Piccadilly that is often so amusingly characteristic of the + young gentlemen accustomed to “the High.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia, who had been a widow ever since she could remember, + possessed the lease of the house in Berkeley Square in which the Prophet + was now sitting. It was an excellent mansion, with everything comfortable + about it, a duke on one side, a Chancellor of the Exchequer on the other, + electric light, several bathrooms and the gramophone. There was never any + question of the Prophet setting up house by himself. On leaving Oxford he + joined his ample fortune to Mrs. Merillia’s as a matter of course, and + they settled down together with the greatest alacrity and hopefulness. Nor + were their pleasant relations once disturbed during the fifteen years that + elapsed before the Prophet applied his eye to the telescope in the bow + window and gave Mr. Ferdinand the instructions which have just been + recorded. + </p> + <p> + These fifteen years had not gone by without leaving their mark upon our + hero. He had done several things during their passage. For instance, he + had written a play, very nearly proposed to the third daughter of a London + clergyman and twice been to the Derby. Such events had, not unnaturally, + had their effect upon the formation of his character and even upon the + expression of his intelligent face. The writing of the play—and, + perhaps, its refusal by all the actor-managers of the town—had + traced a tiny line at each corner of his mobile mouth. The third daughter + of the London clergyman—his sentiment for her—had taught his + hand the slightly episcopal gesture which was so admired at the Lambeth + Palace Garden Party in the summer of 1892. And the great race meeting was + responsible for the rather tight trousers and the gentleman-jockey smile + which he was wont to assume when he set out for a canter in the Row. From + all this it will be guessed that our Prophet was exceedingly amenable to + the influences that throng at the heels of the human destiny. Indeed, he + was. And some few months before this story opens it came about that he + encountered a gentleman who was, in fact, the primary cause of this story + being true. Who was this gentleman? you will say. Sir Tiglath Butt, the + great astronomer, Correspondent of the Institute of France, Member of the + Royal College of Science, Demonstrator of Astronomical Physics, author of + the pamphlet, “Star-Gazers,” and the brochure, “An investigation into the + psychical condition of those who see stars,” C.B.F.R.S. and popular member + of the Colley Cibber Club in Long Acre. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet was introduced to Sir Tiglath at the Colley Cibber Club, and + though Sir Tiglath, who was of a freakish disposition and much addicted to + his joke declined to speak to him, on the ground that he (Sir Tiglath) had + lost his voice and was unlikely to find it in conversation, the Prophet + was greatly impressed by the astronomer’s enormous brick-red face, round + body, turned legs, eyes like marbles, and capacity for drinking port-wine—so + much so, in fact that, on leaving the club, he hastened to buy a science + primer on astronomy, and devoted himself for several days to a minute + investigation of the Milky Way. + </p> + <p> + As there is a fascination of the earth, so is there a fascination of the + heavens. Along the dim, empurpled highways that lead from star to star, + from meteorite to comet, the imagination travels wakefully by night, and + the heart leaps as it draws near to the silver bosses of the moon. Mrs. + Merillia was soon obliged to permit the intrusion of a gigantic telescope + into her pretty drawing-room, and found herself expected to converse at + the dinner-table on the eight moons of Saturn, the belts of Jupiter, the + asteroids of Mars and the phases of Venus. These last she at first + declined to discuss with a man, even though he were her grandson. But she + was won over by the Prophet’s innocent persuasiveness, and drawn on until + she spoke almost as readily of the movements of the stars as formerly she + had spoken of the movements of the Court from Windsor to London, and from + London to Balmoral. In truth, she expected that Hennessey’s passion for + the comets would cease as had ceased his passion for the clergyman’s + daughter; that his ardour for astronomy would die as had died his ardour + for play-writing; that he would give up going to <i>Corona Borealis</i> + and to the Southern Fish as he had given up going to the Derby. Time + proved her wrong. As the days flew Hennessey became increasingly + impassioned. He was more often at the telescope than at the Bachelors’, + and seemed on the way to become almost as gibbous as the planet Mars. Even + he slightly neglected his social duties; and on one terrible occasion + forgot that he was engaged to dine at Cambridge House because he was + assisting at a transit of Mercury. + </p> + <p> + Now all this began to weigh upon the mind of Mrs. Merillia, despite the + amazing cheerfulness of disposition which she had inherited from two long + lines of confirmed optimists—her ancestors on the paternal and + maternal sides. She did not know how to brood, but, if she had, she might + well have been led to do so. And even as it was she had been reduced to so + unusual a condition of dejection that, a week before the evening we are + describing, she had been obliged to order a box at the Gaiety Theatre, + she, who, like all optimists, habitually frequented those playhouses where + she could behold gloomy tragedies, awful melodramas, or those ironic + pieces called farces, in which the ultimate misery of which human nature + is capable is drawn to its farthest point. + </p> + <p> + In the beginning of this new dejection of hers, Mrs. Merillia was now + seated in a stage box at the “Gaiety,” with an elderly General of Life + Guards, a Mistress of the Robes, and the grandfather of the Central + American Ambassador at the Court of St. James, and all four of them were + smiling at a neat little low comedian, who was singing, without any voice + and with the utmost precision, a pathetic romance entitled, “De Coon Wot + Got de Chuck.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the Prophet was engaged for the twentieth time in considering + whether Mrs. Merillia, on her return from this festival, would have to be + carried to bed by hired menials. + </p> + <p> + Why? + </p> + <p> + This brings us to the great turning point in our hero’s life, to the point + when first he began to respect the strange powers stirring within him. + </p> + <p> + Until he encountered Sir Tiglath Butt in the dining-room of the Colley + Cibber Club Hennessey had been but a dilettante fellow. He had written a + play, but airily, and without the twenty years of arduous and persistent + study declared by the dramatic critics to be absolutely necessary before + any intelligent man can learn how to get a bishop on, or a chambermaid + off, the stage. He had nearly proposed to a clergyman’s daughter, but + thoughtlessly, and without any previous examination into the clericalism + of rectory females, any first-hand knowledge of mothers’ meetings, devoid + of which he must be a stout-hearted gentleman who would rush in where even + curates often fear to tread. He had been to the Derby, but without wearing + a bottle-green veil or carrying a betting-book. In fact, he had not taken + life very seriously, or fully appreciated the solemn duties it brings to + all who bear its yoke. Only when the plump red hand of Sir Tiglath—holding + a bumper of thirty-four port—pointed the way to the heavens, did + Hennessey begin—through his telescope—to see the great + possibilities that foot it about the existence of even the meanest man who + eats, drinks and suffers. For through his telescope he saw that he might + be a prophet. Malkiel read the future in the stars. Why not he? + </p> + <p> + He endeavoured to do so. He sought an intimacy with the benefic <i>Jupiter</i>, + and found it—perhaps by a secret kowtowing to <i>Sagittarius</i>. He + made up openly to <i>Canis Major</i> and was shortly on what might almost + be considered terms of affection with <i>Venus</i>. And he was, moreover, + presently quite fearless in the presence of <i>Saturn</i>, quite unabashed + beneath the glittering eye of <i>Mercury</i>. Then, as the neophyte + growing bold by familiarity with the circle of the great ones, he ventured + on his first prophecy, a discreet and even humble forecast of the weather. + He predicted a heavy fall of snow for a certain evening, and so distrusted + his own prediction that when the evening came, mild and benign, he sallied + forth to the Empire Palace of Varieties, and stayed till near midnight, + laughing at the sallies of French clowns, and applauding the frail antics + of cockatoos on motor bicycles. When, on the stroke of twelve, he came + airily forth wrapped in the lightest of dust coats, he was obliged to + endure the greatest of man’s amazements—the knowledge that there was + a well of truth within him. Leicester Square was swathed in an ivory + fleece, and he was obliged to gain Berkeley Square on foot, treading + gingerly in pumps, escorted by linkmen with flaring golden torches, and + preceded by tipsy but assiduous ruffians armed with shovels, who, with + many a lusty oath and horrid imprecation, cleared a thin thread of path + between the towering walls of snow that sparkled faintly in the gaslight. + </p> + <p> + This experience fired him. He rose up early, lay down late, and, quite + with her assent, cast the horoscope of Mrs. Merillia in the sweat of his + brow. He cast, we say, her horoscope and, from a certain conjunction of + the planets, he gathered, to his horror, that upon the fifteenth day of + the month of January she would suffer an accident while on an evening + jaunt. We find him now, on this fifteenth day of the first month, aware of + his revered grandmother’s intrepid expedition to the Gaiety Theatre, + waiting her return to Berkeley Square with mingled feelings which we might + analyse for pages, but which we prefer baldly to state. + </p> + <p> + He longed to be proved indeed a prophet, and he longed also to see his + beloved relative return from her sheaf of pleasures in the free and + unconstrained use of all her graceful limbs. He was, therefore, torn by + foes in a mental conflict, and was in no case to sip the philosophic honey + of Marcus Aurelius as he sat between the telescope and the fire in the + comfortable drawing-room awaiting his grandmother’s return. + </p> + <p> + “Gustavus,” said Mr. Ferdinand in the servants’ hall to the flushed + footman who lay upon a what-not, sipping a glass of ale and reading a new + and unabridged farthing edition of Carlyle’s <i>French Revolution</i>, + “Gustavus, Mrs. Merillia has been and gone to the Gaiety Theatre to-night. + We expect her back at eleven-thirty sharp. She may need assistance on her + return, Gustavus.” + </p> + <p> + The footman put down the tumbler which he was in the act of raising to his + pouted lips. + </p> + <p> + “Assistance, Mr. Ferdinand!” he ejaculated. “Mrs. Merillia, Mr. + Ferdinand!” + </p> + <p> + “She may—we say she <i>may</i>—have to be carried to bed, + Gustavus.” + </p> + <p> + Gustavus’s jaw dropped, and the <i>French Revolution</i> fluttered in his + startled hands. + </p> + <p> + “Good lawks, Mr. Ferdinand!” he exclaimed (not quoting from Carlyle). + </p> + <p> + “Have an armchair ready in the hall, Gustavus. Mrs. Merillia must not be + dropped. You understand? That will do, Gustavus.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Ferdinand passed to the adjacent supper-table, to join the upper + housemaid in a discussion of two subjects that were very near to their + hearts, a round of beef and a tureen of pickled cabbage, while Gustavus + got up from the what-not in a bemused manner, and proceeded to search + dreamily for an armchair. He came upon one by chance in the dining-room, + and wheeled it out into the hall just as the clocks in the house rang out + the half-hour after eleven. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet above sprang up from the couch by the fire, Mr. Ferdinand + below closed his discussion with the upper housemaid, and the former + rapidly came down, the latter up, stairs as the roll of wheels broke + through the silence of the square. + </p> + <p> + Gustavus, in an attitude of bridled curiosity, was posed beneath a polar + bear that held an electric lamp. His hand was laid upon the back of the + armchair, and his round hazel eyes were turned expectantly towards the + hall as his two masters joined him. + </p> + <p> + “Is all ready, Mr. Ferdinand?” said the Prophet, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “All is ready, sir,” replied the butler. + </p> + <p> + “Wheel the chair forward, Gustavus, if you please,” said the Prophet. + “Mrs. Merillia must not be dropped. Remember that.” + </p> + <p> + “Not be dropped, sir—no.” + </p> + <p> + The chair ran forward on its amicable castors as a carriage was heard to + stop outside. Mr. Ferdinand flung open the portal, and the Prophet glided + out excitedly upon the step. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he cried, “well?” + </p> + <p> + A footman, in a long drab coat with red facings, was preparing to get off + the box of a smart brougham, but before he could reach the pavement, a + charming head, covered with a lace cap, was thrust out of the window, and + a musical and almost girlish voice cried,— + </p> + <p> + “All nonsense, Hennessey, all rubbish! Saturn don’t know what he’s talkin’ + about. Look!” + </p> + <p> + The carriage door was vivaciously opened from the inside and a delightful + little old lady, dressed in brown silk, with a long, cheerful pointed + nose, rosy cheeks, and chestnut hair—that almost mightn’t have been + a wig in certain lights—prepared to leap forth without waiting for + the reverent assistance that the Prophet, flanked by Mr. Ferdinand and + Gustavus, was in waiting to afford. + </p> + <p> + As she jumped, she began to cry, “Not much wrong with me, is there, + Hennessey?” but before the sentence was completed she had caught her neat + foot in her brown silk gown, had stumbled from the step of the carriage to + the pavement, had twisted her pretty ankle, had reeled and almost fallen, + had been caught by the Prophet and Mr. Ferdinand, borne tenderly into the + hall, and placed in the armchair which the terrified Gustavus, with almost + enraged ardour, drove forward to receive her. As she sank down in it, + helpless, Mrs. Merillia exclaimed, with unabated vivacity,— + </p> + <p> + “It’s happened, Hennessey, it’s happened! But it was my own doin’ and + yours. You shouldn’t have prophesied at your age, and I shouldn’t have + jumped at mine. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest grannie!” cried the Prophet, on his knees beside her, “how + grieved, how shocked I am! Is it—is it—” + </p> + <p> + “Sprained, Hennessey?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. Mechanically Mr. Ferdinand nodded. Gustavus let his powdered + head drop, too, in imitation of his superiors. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you in the drawin’—room.” + </p> + <p> + She placed her pretty, mittened hands upon the arms of the chair, and gave + a little wriggle, trying to get up. Then she cried out musically,— + </p> + <p> + “No, I must be carried up. Mr. Ferdinand!” + </p> + <p> + “Ma’am!” + </p> + <p> + “Is Gustavus to be trusted?” + </p> + <p> + “Trusted, ma’am!” cried Mr. Ferdinand, looking at Gustavus, who had + assumed an expression of pale and pathetic dignity. “Trusted—a + London footman! Oh, ma’am!” + </p> + <p> + His voice failed. He choked and began to rummage in the pocket of his + black tail coat for his perfumed handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “T’st, t’st! I mean his arms,” said Mrs. Merillia, patting her delicate + hands quickly on the chair. “Can he carry me?” + </p> + <p> + The countenance of Mr. Ferdinand cleared, while Gustavus eagerly extended + his right arm, bent it sharply, and allowed his magnificent biceps to rise + up in sudden majesty. Mrs. Merillia was reassured. + </p> + <p> + “Hoist me to the drawin’-room, then,” she said. “Hennessey, will you walk + behind?” + </p> + <p> + The procession was formed, and the little old lady proceeded by a + succession of jerks to the upper floor, her silk gown rustling against the + balusters, and her tiny feet dangling loosely in mid-air, while her long + and elegant head nodded each time Mr. Ferdinand and Gustavus pranced + carefully sideways to a higher step. The Prophet followed solicitously + behind, with hands outstretched to check any dangerous recoil. His face + was very grave, but not entirely unhappy. + </p> + <p> + “Set me down by the fire,” said Mrs. Merillia, when she found herself + being smoothly propelled through the atmosphere of the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + The menials obeyed with breathless assiduity. + </p> + <p> + “And now bring me a sandwich, a glass of toast and water and a fan, if you + please. Yes, put the footstool well under me.” + </p> + <p> + “Dearest grannie,” said the Prophet, when the men had retired, “are you in + great pain?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Hennessey. Are you?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia’s green eyes twinkled. + </p> + <p> + “I!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, at my accident. For my ankle is sprained, I’m almost sure, and I + shall have to lie up presently in wet bandages. Tell me, are you really + pained that I have had the accident you prophesied?” + </p> + <p> + She glanced from her grandson to the telescope that pointed toward the + stars and back again. + </p> + <p> + “I am, indeed, sincerely grieved,” the Prophet answered with genuine + emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But if I’d jumped out all right, and was sittin’ here now in a + perfect condition of health, you’d have been sincerely grieved, too.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not, grannie,” said the Prophet. But he looked meditative. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand brought the toast and water, the sandwich and the fan. When + he had trodden across the carpet out of the room Mrs. Merillia continued,— + </p> + <p> + “Hennessey, you see where this prophetic business is leadin’ you. It has + made you charmed at my accident. Yes, it has.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke without any pathos, humorously indeed, in a bright tone full of + common sense. And she nodded at him over her toast and water with a + chaffing, demure smile. But the Prophet winced and put his hand to his + thick brown hair. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he cried quickly. “That’s impossible. It can’t be.” But the + statements sounded like perturbed questions. + </p> + <p> + “Think!” said his grandmother, looking down at her poor, helpless foot as + it lay on the velvet stool. “If I hadn’t had an accident to-night, you’d + have been obliged to think ill of—of—which of them was it that + had the impertinence to talk my affairs over with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Mercury and Uranus, Jupiter, Saturn and Venus,” said the Prophet with + almost terrible gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. I always have thought ill of the last, but that’s nothin’ to do + with it. Weigh me in the balance against five planets—are they all + planets?—and how do the scales go? You see, Hennessey!” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet looked much distressed. He saw his beloved grandmother by the + fire and the bright stars twinkling through the frosty window-panes. He + thought of his telescope, of Sir Tiglath, of Mr. Malkiel, and of the + future, and the velvety blue walls of the drawing-room seemed to spin + round him. + </p> + <p> + “Prophecy,” continued Mrs. Merillia, fanning herself till the lace lappets + of her priceless cap fluttered above her orderly and clasping wig, “is + dangerous, for often it can cause its own fulfilment. If you hadn’t said + that because of a certain conjunction of planets—or whatever it was—in + my horoscope, I should have an accident to-night, I shouldn’t have jumped + out of the brougham. I should have waited for Mr. Ferdinand to assist me, + as befits a gentlewoman.” + </p> + <p> + “But, grannie, I assure you I was most anxious to save you. I hoped I had + made a mistake in your horoscope. I did, really. I was so nervous that I + sent to Mr. Malkiel while you were at the theatre and implored him to look + into the matter as an expert.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Malkiel! Who is he? Do we know him?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But we know his marvellous <i>Almanac</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Almanac</i> person! Why, Malkiel is surely a myth, Hennessey, a + number of people, a company, a syndicate, or something of that kind.” + </p> + <p> + “So I thought, grannie. But I have made inquiries—through a + detective agency—and I have discovered that he is one person; in + fact, a man, just like you and me.” + </p> + <p> + “Rather an odd man then! Is he in the Red Book?” + </p> + <p> + “No. He is, I understand, of a very retiring and secretive disposition. In + fact, I have had great difficulty in learning anything about him. But at + length I have discovered that he receives and answers letters at an + address in London.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed. Where is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Jellybrand’s Library, Eleven Hundred Z, Shaftesbury Avenue. I sent a boy + messenger there to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you receive a reply?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I think the boy—although Mr. Ferdinand tells me he wore four + medals, I presume for courage—must have become nervous on perceiving + Mr. Malkiel’s name on the envelope, have thrown the note down a grating, + and bolted before he reached the place, though he said—on his Bible + oath, I understand from Mr. Ferdinand—he delivered the note. In any + case I got no answer. How are you feeling?” + </p> + <p> + “Twisted, but prophetic. I foretell that my ankle will be swelled beyond + recognition to-morrow. Help me to bed, Hennessey.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet flew to his dear relative’s assistance, and Mrs. Merillia + endeavoured to rise and to lean upon his anxious arm. After a struggle, + however, in which the Prophet took part and two chairs were overset, she + was obliged to desist. + </p> + <p> + “You must ring the bell, Hennessey,” she said. “Mr. Ferdinand and Gustavus + must carry me to bed in the chair.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet sprang tragically to the bell. It was answered. The procession + was re-formed, and Mrs. Merillia was carried to bed, still smiling, + nodding at each stair and bearing herself with admirable courage. + </p> + <p> + As Mr. Ferdinand and Gustavus descended to the basement after the + completion of their unusual task, the latter said solemnly,— + </p> + <p> + “However should master have come to know as the missis wouldn’t be able to + put foot to floor this night, Mr. Ferdinand? However?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot answer you, Gustavus,” Mr. Ferdinand replied, shaking his broad + and globe-like head, round whose bald cupola the jet-black hair was + brushed in two half moons decorated with a renowned “butler’s own special + pomade.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Ferdinand,” rejoined Gustavus, stretching out one hand for pale + ale, the other for <i>French Revolution</i>, “I don’t like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Gustavus?” inquired Mr. Ferdinand, preparing to resume his + discussion with the accommodating upper housemaid. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it seems strange like, Mr. Ferdinand,” said Gustavus, lifting the + glass to his lips, the <i>French Revolution</i> to his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It do seem strange, Gustavus,” answered Mr. Ferdinand, leaving out the + “like” in a cultivated manner. “It do.” + </p> + <p> + In the drawing-room the Prophet stood, with clenched hands, gazing through + the telescope at Mercury and Uranus, Jupiter, Saturn and Venus, while, on + the second floor, Mrs. Fancy Quinglet, Mrs. Merillia’s devoted, but + occasionally disconcerting, maid, swathed her mistress’s ankle in bandages + previously steeped in cold water and in vinegar. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <h3> + MALKIEL THE SECOND IS BETRAYED BY THE YOUNG LIBRARIAN + </h3> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia’s accident made a very deep impression upon the Prophet’s + mind. He thought it over carefully, and desired to discuss it in all its + bearings with Mrs. Fancy Quinglet, who had been his confidante for full + thirty years. Mrs. Fancy—who had not been married—was no + longer a pretty girl. Indeed it was possible that she had never, even in + her heyday, been otherwise than moderately plain. Now, at the age of + fifty-one and a half, she was a faithful creature with a thin, pendulous + nose, a pale, hysteric eye, a tendency to cold in the head and chilblains + in the autumn of the year, and a somewhat incoherent and occasionally + frenzied turn of mind. Argument could never at any time have had much + effect upon her nature, and as she grew towards maturity its power over + her most markedly decreased. This fact was recognised by everybody, last + of all by Mrs. Merillia, who was at length fully convinced of the + existence of certain depths in her maid’s peculiar character by the + following circumstance. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia had a bandy-legged dachshund called Beau, whose name was for + many years often affectionately, and quite correctly, pronounced by Fancy + Quinglet. One day, however, she chanced to see it written upon paper—B.E.A.U. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever does that mean, ma’am?” she asked of Mrs. Merillia. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Beau, of course, Beau—the dog. What should it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Bow?” cried Fancy. “Is he writ so?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, silly girl. It is written Beau, and you can pronounce it as + you would pronounce a bow of ribbon.” + </p> + <p> + Fancy said no more, though it was easy to see that she was much shaken by + this circumstance. But she could never afterwards be induced to utter her + favourite’s name. She was physically unable to speak the word so + strangely, so almost impiously, spelt. This she declared with tears. + Persuasion and argument were unavailing. Henceforth Beau was always called + by her “the dog,” and it was obvious that, had she been led out to the + stake, she must have burned rather than save herself by a pronouncing of + the combination of letters by which she had been so long deceived. + </p> + <p> + Such an inflexible mind had Mrs. Fancy, to whom the Prophet now applied + himself with gestures almost Sinaic. + </p> + <p> + She was dressed in mouse-coloured grenadine, and was seated in a small + chamber opening out of Mrs. Merillia’s bedroom, engaged in what she called + “plain tatting.” + </p> + <p> + “Fancy,” said the Prophet, entering and closing the door carefully, “you + know me well.” + </p> + <p> + “From the bottle, sir,” she answered, darting the bone implements in and + out. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever thought—has it ever occurred to you—” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say it has, sir,” Fancy replied, with the weak decision peculiar + to her. + </p> + <p> + She was ever prone thus to answer questions before they were fully asked, + or could be properly understood by her, and from such premature decisions + as she hastened to give she could never afterwards be persuaded to + retreat. Knowing this the Prophet said rapidly,— + </p> + <p> + “Fancy, if a man finds out that he is a prophet what ought he to do?” + </p> + <p> + The lady’s-maid rattled her bones. + </p> + <p> + “Let it alone, sir,” she answered. “Let it alone, Master Hennessey.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but what d’you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “What I say sir. I can’t speak different, nor mean other.” + </p> + <p> + “But can’t you explain, Fancy?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Master Hennessey, the lives that have been wrecked, the homes that + have been broke up by explainings!” + </p> + <p> + Her eye seemed suddenly lit from within by some fever of sad, worldly + knowledge. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but—” the Prophet began. + </p> + <p> + “I know it, Master Hennessey, and I can’t know other.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed, and her gaze became fixed like that of a typhoid patient in a + dream. + </p> + <p> + “Them that knows other let them declare it,” she ejaculated. “I say again, + as I did afore—the homes that have been broken up by explainings!” + </p> + <p> + She tatted. The Prophet bowed before her decision and left the apartment + feeling rather hungry. Fancy Quinglet’s crumbs were not always crumbs of + comfort. He resolved to apply again to Mr. Malkiel, and this time to make + the application in person. But before he did so he thought it right to + tell Mrs. Merillia, who was still steeped in bandages, of his intention. + He therefore went straight to her room from Fancy Quinglet’s. Mrs. + Merillia was lying upon a couch reading a Russian novel. A cup of tea + stood beside her upon a table near a bowl of red and yellow tulips, a + canary was singing in its cage amid a shower of bird-seed, and “the dog” + lay stretched before the blazing fire upon a milk-white rug, over which a + pale ray of winter sunshine fell. As the Prophet came in Mrs. Merillia + glanced up. + </p> + <p> + “Hennessey,” she said, “you are growin’ to look like Lord Brandling, when + he combined the Premiership with the Foreign Office and we had that + dreadful complication with Iceland. My dear boy, you are corrugated with + thought and care. What is the matter? My ankle is much better. You need + not be anxious about me. Has Venus been playing you another jade’s trick?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet sat down and stroked Beau’s sable back with his forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “I have scarcely looked at Venus since you were injured, grannie,” he + answered. “I have scarcely dared to.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad to hear it. Since the days of Adonis she has always had a + dangerous influence on young men. If you want to look at anybody, look at + that pretty, sensible cousin of Robert Green’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Enid. Yes, she is sensible. I believe she is in Hampshire staying + with the Churchmores.” + </p> + <p> + He looked calmer for a moment, but the corrugated expression quickly + returned. + </p> + <p> + “Grannie,” he said, “I think it my duty to make an effort to see Mr. + Malkiel.” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Almanac</i> man. What do you want with him?” + </p> + <p> + She tapped one of her small, mittened hands over the other and slightly + twisted her long and pointed nose. + </p> + <p> + “I want to learn his views on this strange faculty of prophecy. Has it + ever occurred to you that among all our immense acquaintance we don’t + number a single prophet?” + </p> + <p> + “One can’t know everybody, Hennessey. And I believe that prophets always + spring from the lower classes. The line must be drawn somewhere even in + these days.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not draw it at millionaires then?” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to. Somethin’ will have to be done. If the nobodies + continue to go everywhere the very few somebodies that are left will soon + go nowhere. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps they do go nowhere. Perhaps that is why we have never met a + prophet.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia looked up sharply, with her wide, cheerful mouth set awry in + a shrewd smile that seemed to say “So ho!” She recognised a strange, new + note of profound, though not arrogant, self-respect in her grandson. + </p> + <p> + “Prophets,” Hennessey added more gently, “have always been inclined to + dwell in the wilderness.” + </p> + <p> + “But where can you find a wilderness in these days?” asked Mrs. Merillia, + still smiling. “Even Hammersmith is becomin’ quite a fashionable + neighbourhood. And you say that the <i>Almanac</i> man lives in + Shaftesbury Avenue, only half a minute from Piccadilly Circus.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear grannie,” he corrected her, “I said he received letters there. I + don’t know where he lives.” + </p> + <p> + “How are you goin’ to find him then?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall call this afternoon at eleven hundred Z.” + </p> + <p> + “To see if he has run in for a postcard! And what sort of person do you + expect him to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Something quite out of the common.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia screwed up her eyes doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you won’t be disappointed. How many editions have there been of + the <i>Almanac</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Seventy yearly editions.” + </p> + <p> + “Then Malkiel must be a very old man.” + </p> + <p> + “But this Mr. Malkiel is Malkiel the Second.” + </p> + <p> + “One of a dynasty! That alters the case. Perhaps he’s a young man about + town. There are young men about town, I believe, who have addresses at + clubs and libraries, and sleep on doorsteps, or in the Park. Well, + Hennessey, I see you are getting fidgety. You had better be off. Buy me + some roses for my room on your way home. I’m expectin’ someone to have tea + with the poor victim of prophecy this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet kissed his grandmother, put on his overcoat and stepped into + the square. + </p> + <p> + It was a bright, frosty, genial day, and he resolved to walk to + Jellybrand’s Library. + </p> + <p> + London was looking quite light-hearted in the dry, cold air, which set a + bloom even upon the cheeks of the ambassadors who were about, and caused + the butcher boys to appear like peonies. The crossing-sweepers swept + nothing vigorously, and were rewarded with showers of pence from + pedestrians delighting in the absence of mud. Crystal as some garden of an + eternal city seemed the green Park, wrapped in its frosty mantle + embroidered with sunbeams. Even the drivers of the “growlers” were + moderately cheerful—a very rare occurrence—and the blind man + of Piccadilly smiled as he roared along the highway, striking the feet of + the charitable with the wand which was the emblem of his profession. + </p> + <p> + Only the Prophet was solemn on this delicious afternoon. People looked at + him and thought that he must surely be the richest man of the town. His + face was so sad. + </p> + <p> + He wound across the whirlpool, where the green image postures to the human + streams that riot below it. He saw beneath their rooves of ostrich + feathers the girls shake their long earrings above sweet violets and roses + fainting with desire to be bought by country cousins. + </p> + <p> + “Where is eleven hundred Z, if you please?” he asked the Shaftesbury + Avenue policeman. + </p> + <p> + “Jellybrand’s sir? On the right between the cream shop and the engine + warehouse, just opposite the place where they sell parrots, after that + there patent medicine depot.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet bowed, thinking of the blessings of knowledge. In a moment he + stood before the library and glanced at its dirty window. He saw several + letters lying against the glass. One was addressed to “Miss Minerva + Partridge.” He stepped in, wondering what she was like. + </p> + <p> + Jellybrand’s Library was a small, square room containing a letter rack, a + newspaper stand, a bookcase and a counter. It was fitted up with letters, + papers, books, and a big boy with a bulging head. The last-named stood + behind the counter, stroking his irregular profile with one hand, and + throwing a box of J nibs into the air and catching it with the other. Upon + the Prophet’s entrance this youth obligingly dropped the nibs accidentally + upon the floor, and arranged his sharp and anemic face in an expression of + consumptive inquiry. The Prophet approached the counter softly, and + allowed the sable with which his coat was trimmed to rest against it. + </p> + <p> + “Did a boy messenger call here a few days ago with a note for Mr. + Malkiel?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The young librarian assumed an attitude of vital suspicion and the + expression of a lynx. + </p> + <p> + “For Malkiel the Second, sir?” he replied in a piercing soprano voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Prophet. “A boy messenger with four medals. There was a + crest on the envelope—an elephant rampant surrounded by a swarm of + bees.” + </p> + <p> + A dogged look of combined terror and resolution overspread the young + librarian’s countenance. + </p> + <p> + “There’s been no elephant and no swarm of bees in here,” he said with + trembling curtness. + </p> + <p> + “You are sure you would have remembered the circumstance if there had + been?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather! What do you think? We don’t allow things of them sort in here, I + can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet drew out half a sovereign, upon which a ray of sunshine + immediately fell as if in benediction. + </p> + <p> + “Does Mr. Malkiel—? + </p> + <p> + “Malkiel the Second,” interrupted the young librarian, whose pinkish eyes + winked at the illumination of the gold. + </p> + <p> + “Malkiel the Second ever call here—in person?” + </p> + <p> + “In person?” said the young librarian, very suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know about in person. He calls here.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said the Prophet, recognising in the youth a literary sense that + instinctively rejected superfluity. “He does call. May I ask when?” + </p> + <p> + “When he chooses,” said the young librarian, and he winked again. + </p> + <p> + “Does he choose often?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s got his day, like Miss Partridge and lots of ‘em.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Is his day—by chance—a Thursday?” + </p> + <p> + It was a Thursday afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know about by chance,” rejoined the young librarian, his literary + sense again coming into play. “But it’s—” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the library door opened, and a tall, thin, middle-aged man + walked in sideways with his feet very much turned out to right and left of + him. + </p> + <p> + “Any letters, Frederick Smith?” he said in a hollow voice, on reaching the + counter. + </p> + <p> + “Two, Mr. Sagittarius, I believe,” replied the young librarian, moving + with respectful celerity towards the letter rack. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet started and looked eagerly at the newcomer. His eyes rested + upon an individual whose face was comic in outline with a serious + expression, and whose form suggested tragic farce dressed to represent + commonplace, as seen at Margate and elsewhere. A top hat, a spotted + collar, a pink shirt, a white satin tie, a chocolate brown frock coat, + brown trousers and boots, and a black overcoat thrown open from top to + bottom—these appurtenances, clerkly in their adherence to a certain + convention, could not wholly disguise the emotional expression that seems + sometimes to lurk in shape. The lines of Mr. Sagittarius defied their + clothing. His shoulders gave the lie to the chocolate brown frock coat. + His legs breathed defiance to the trousers that sheathed them. One could, + in fancy, see the former shrugged in all the abandonment of third-act + despair, behold the latter darting wildly for the cover afforded by a + copper, a cupboard, or any other friendly refuge of those poor victims of + ludicrous and terrific circumstance who are so sorely smitten and + afflicted upon the funny stage. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius, in fine, seemed a man dressed in a mask that was unable + to deceive. His lean face was almost absurd in its irregularity, its high + cheek-bones and deep depressions, its sharp nose, extensive mouth and + nervous chin. But the pale blue eyes that were its soul shone plaintively + beneath their shaggy, blonde eyebrows, and even an application of pomade + almost hysterically lavish could not entirely conceal the curling gloom of + the heavy, matted hair. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, two, Mr. Sagittarius,” cried the young librarian, approaching from + the rack. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman held out a hand covered with a yellow dogskin glove. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Frederick Smith,” he said. + </p> + <p> + And he turned to leave the building. But the Prophet intercepted him. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” said the Prophet. “I beg your pardon, but—but—” + he looked at the young librarian and accidentally let the half sovereign + fall on the counter. It gave the true ring. “I believe I heard you mention—let + drop the name Mr. Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know about let drop,” began the youth in his usual revising + manner. “But I—” + </p> + <p> + At this point the gentleman in question began to move rather hastily + sideways towards the door. The Prophet followed him up and got before him + near the letter rack, while the young librarian retrieved the half + sovereign and bit it with his teeth. + </p> + <p> + “I really beg your pardon,” said the Prophet, while Mr. Sagittarius stood + still in the violent attitude of one determined to dodge so long as he has + breath. “I am not at all in the habit of”—Mr. Sagittarius dodged—“of + intruding upon strangers—” Mr. Sagittarius dodged again with such + extraordinary abruptness and determination that he nearly caused the young + librarian to swallow the Prophet’s golden bribe. “I see you don’t believe + me,” the Prophet continued, flushing pink but still holding his ground, + and indeed trying to turn Mr. Sagittarius’s flank by a strategic movement + of almost military precision. “I see that plainly, but—” Mr. + Sagittarius ducked to the left, endeavouring to cover the manoeuvre by an + almost simultaneous and extremely passionate feint towards the Prophet’s + centre, which was immediately withdrawn in good order—“but your + remark—arkable name, Saag—itt-ittarius, suggested to me that + you are rea-eally the man I seek.” + </p> + <p> + He had now got Mr. Sagittarius into a very awkward bit of country between + the letter P. in the rack, under which reposed Miss Partridge’s + correspondence, and the newspaper bureau, with the counter immediately on + his rear, and taking advantage of this circumstance, he continued rapidly: + </p> + <p> + “May I ask whether you recently received a letter—one moment!—envelope—crest—I + only want to know if you have received—only—an elephant + rampant—swarm of—of bees—” + </p> + <p> + “I have never received a rampant elephant and a swarm of bees,” cried Mr. + Sagittarius with every symptom of unbridled terror. “Help, Frederick + Smith!” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are, Malkiel the Second!” cried the young librarian, hastily + pocketing the half sovereign and making a feverish lunge at nothing in + particular over the counter. “Right you are!” + </p> + <p> + “Malkiel the Second!” ejaculated the Prophet. “Then you are the man I + seek.” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel the Second—for it was indeed he—sank back against the + counter in an attitude of abandoned prostration that would have made a + fortune of a comic actor. + </p> + <p> + “I trusted to Jellybrand’s,” he said, drawing from his tail pocket a white + handkerchief covered with a pattern of pink storks in flight. “I trusted + to Jellybrand’s and Jellybrand’s has betrayed me. Oh, Frederick Smith!” + </p> + <p> + He put a stork to each eye. The young librarian assumed an injured air. + </p> + <p> + “It was the agitation did it, Mr. Sagittarius,” he said. “If you hadn’t + a-kep’ dodging I shouldn’t have lost my memory.” + </p> + <p> + And he looked avariciously at the Prophet, who smiled at him reassuringly + and drew forth a card case. + </p> + <p> + “I feel sure, Mr. Sag—Malkiel—” + </p> + <p> + “Malkiel the Second, sir, is my name if it is betrayed by Jellybrand’s,” + said that gentleman with sudden dignity. “There is no need of any mister.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said the Prophet, handing his card. “That is my name + and address. May I beg you to forgive my apparent anxiety to make your + acquaintance, and implore you to grant me a few moments of private + conversation on a matter of the utmost importance?” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel the Second read the card. + </p> + <p> + “Berkeley Square,” he said. “<i>The</i> Berkeley Square?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, the Berkeley Square,” said the Prophet, modestly. + </p> + <p> + “Not the one at Brixton Rise behind the Kimmins’s mews?” said Malkiel the + Second, suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. The one near Grosvenor Square.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s better,” said Malkiel, upon whom the Prophet’s address had + evidently made a good impression. “Kimmins’s is no class at all. Had you + come from there, I—but what may you want with me?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet glanced significantly at the young librarian, who was leaning + upon the counter in a tense, keyhole position, with his private ear turned + somewhat ostentatiously towards the two speakers. + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you in an inner room,” he murmured, in his most ingratiating + manner. + </p> + <p> + “You’re certain it’s not Berkeley Square behind Kimmins’s?” said Malkiel, + with a last flicker of suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “Quite certain—quite.” + </p> + <p> + “Frederick Smith,” said Malkiel the Second, “since Jellybrand’s has + betrayed me Jellybrand’s must abide the consequences. Show this gentleman + and me to the parlour.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, Mr. Sagittarius,” replied the young librarian whose memory had + again become excellent. “But Miss Minerva is coming at three-thirty.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she bespoke the parlour, Frederick Smith?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Then she can’t have it. That’s all. Jellybrand’s must abide the full + consequences of my betrayal. Go forward, Frederick Smith.” + </p> + <p> + The young librarian went forward towards a door of deal and ground glass + which he threw open with some ceremony. + </p> + <p> + “The parlour, gents,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “After you, sir, after you,” said Malkiel the Second, making a side step + and bringing his feet together in the first position. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” rejoined the Prophet, gently drawing the sage to the front, and + inserting him into the parlour in such an ingenious manner that he did not + perceive the journey of a second half sovereign from the person of the + Prophet to that of the young librarian, who thereafter closed the deal and + ground glass door, and returned to the counter, whistling in an + absent-minded manner, “I’m a Happy Millionaire from Colorado.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <h3> + THE TWO PROPHETS PARTAKE OF “CREAMING FOAM.” + </h3> + <p> + “And now, sir,” said Malkiel the Second, pointing to a couple of cane + chairs which, with the table, endeavoured, rather unsuccessfully, to + furnish forth the parlour at Jellybrand’s, “now sir, what do you want with + me?” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke he threw his black overcoat wide open, seated himself on the + edge of one of the chairs in a dignified attitude, and crossed his feet—which + were not innocent of spats—one over the other. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet was resolved to dare all, and he, therefore, answered boldly,— + </p> + <p> + “Malkiel the Second, I wish to speak to you as one prophet to another.” + </p> + <p> + At this remark Malkiel started violently, and darted a searching glance + from beneath his blonde eyebrows at Hennessey. + </p> + <p> + “Do you live in the Berkeley Square, sir,” he said, “and claim to be a + prophet?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Hennessey, with modest determination. + </p> + <p> + Malkiel smiled, a long and wreathed smile that was full of luscious + melancholy and tragic sweetness. + </p> + <p> + “The assumption seems rather ridiculous—forgive me,” he exclaimed. + “The Berkeley Square! Whatever would Madame say?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame?” said the Prophet, inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Madame Malkiel, or Madame Sagittarius, as she always passes.” + </p> + <p> + “Your wife?” + </p> + <p> + “My honoured lady,” said Malkiel, with pride. “More to me almost than any + lunar guide or starry monitor. What, oh, what would she say to a prophet + from the Berkeley Square?” + </p> + <p> + He burst into hollow laughter, shaking upon the cane chair till its very + foundations seemed threatened as by an earthquake, and was obliged to + apply the flight of storks to his eyes before he could in any degree + recover his equanimity. At length he glanced up with tears rolling down + his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, sir,” he said. “But what can you know of prophecy in such a + fashionable neighbourhood, close to Grosvenor Square and within sight, as + one may say, of Piccadilly? Oh, dear, oh, dear!” + </p> + <p> + “But really,” said the Prophet, who had flushed red, but who still spoke + with pleasant mildness, “what influence can neighbourhood have upon such a + superterrestrial matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Did Isaiah reside in the Berkeley Square, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy not. Still—” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy not, too,” rejoined Malkiel. “Nor Bernard Wilkins either, or any + prophet that ever I heard of. Why, even Jesse Jones lives off Perkin’s + Road, Wandsworth Common, though he does keep a sitting-room in Berners + Street just to see his clients in, and he is a very low-class person, even + for a prophet. No, no, sir, Madame is quite right. She married me despite + the damning—yes, I say, sir, the damning fact that I was a prophet—” + here Malkiel the Second brought down one of the dogskin gloves with + violence upon the rickety parlour table—“but before ever we went to + the Registrar’s she made me take a solemn oath. What was it, do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” said Hennessey, leaning forward and gazing into Malkiel’s + long and excited face round which the heavy mat of pomaded hair vibrated. + </p> + <p> + “It was this, sir—to mix with no prophets so long as we both should + live. Prophets, she truly said, are low-class, even dirty, persons. Their + parties, their ‘at homes’ are shoddy. They live in fourth-rate + neighbourhoods. They burn gas and sit on horsehair. Only in rare cases do + they have any bathroom in their houses. Their influence would be bad for + the children when they begin to grow up. How could Corona make her <i>debut</i>”—Malkiel + pronounced it debbew—“in prophetic circles? How could she come out + in Drakeman’s Villas, Tooting, or dance with such young fellers as + frequent Hagglin’s Buildings, Clapham Rise? How could she do it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, I’m sure,” gasped the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Nor I, sir, nor I,” continued Malkiel, with unabated fervour. “And it’s + the same with Capricornus. My boy shall not be thrown in with prophets. + Did Malkiel the First start the <i>Almanac</i> for that? Did he foster it + till it went from the poor servant girl’s attic into the gilded apartments + of the aristocracy and lay even upon Royal tables for that? Did he, I + say?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t an idea,” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “He did not, sir. And I—I myself”—he arranged the diamond pin + in his white satin tie with an almost imperial gesture—“have not + followed upon the lines he laid down without imbibing, as I may truly say, + the lofty spirit that guided him, the lofty social spirit, as Madame calls + it. There have been other prophets, I know. There are other prophets. I do + not attempt to deny it. But where else than here, sir”—the dogskin + glove lay upon the breast of the chocolate brown frock coat—“where + else than here will you find a prophet who hides his identity beneath an + <i>alias</i>, who remains, as Madame always says, <i>perdew</i>, and who + conducts his profession on honourable and business-like lines? Am I + dressed like a prophet?” He suddenly brought his doubled fist down upon + the Prophet’s knee. + </p> + <p> + “No,” cried Hennessey. “Certainly not!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, how can I be when I tell you that Merriman & Saxster of + Regent Street are my tailors, and have been since my first pair of + trouserings? Do I bear myself prophetically? I think you will agree that I + do not when you know that I am frequently mistaken for an outside broker—yes, + sir, and that this has even happened upon the pier at Margate. You have + seen my demeanour at Jellybrand’s. You saw me come into the library. You + saw my manner with Frederick Smith. Was it assuming? Did I lord it over + the lad?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I might have been anybody, any ordinary person living in Grosvenor + Place, or, like yourself, in the Berkeley Square. And so it ever is. Other + prophets there are—possibly men of a certain ability even in that + direction—but there is only one Malkiel, only one who attends + strictly to business, who draws a good income from the stars, sir, and + satisfies the public month in, month out, without making a fuss about it. + Wait a few years, sir, only wait!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said the Prophet. “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait till the children are grown up. Wait till Capricornus has got his + Latin by heart and gone to Oxford. Then, and only then, you will know + whether Malkiel the Second is the exception to the rule of prophets. Yes, + and Madame shall know it, too. She trusted me, sir, as only a woman can. + She knew I was a prophet and had a prophet for a father before me. And yet + she trusted me. It was a daring thing to do. Many would call it foolhardy. + Wouldn’t they, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The dogskin glove was raised. The Prophet hastened to reply,— + </p> + <p> + “I daresay they would.” + </p> + <p> + “But she was not afraid, and she shall have her reward. Corona shall never + set foot in Drakeman’s Villas, nor breathe the air of Hagglin’s. I must + have a glass of water, I must, sir, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + He gasped heavily and was about to rise, when the Prophet said: + </p> + <p> + “Join me in a glass of wine.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be delighted,” Malkiel answered. “Delighted, I’m sure, but I + doubt whether Jellybrand’s—” + </p> + <p> + “Could not Frederick Smith go out and fetch us a—a pint bottle of + champagne?” said the Prophet, playing a desperate card in the prophetic + game. + </p> + <p> + An expression almost of joviality overspread the tragic farce of Malkiel’s + appearance. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll see,” he answered, opening the deal door. “Frederick Smith!” + </p> + <p> + “Here, Mr. Sagittarius,” cried the soprano voice of the young librarian. + </p> + <p> + “Can you leave the library for a moment, Frederick Smith?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet held up a sovereign over Malkiel the Second’s narrow shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Sagittarius, for half a mo!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Where is the nearest champagne, Frederick Smith?” + </p> + <p> + “The nearest—” + </p> + <p> + “Champagne, I said, Frederick Smith.” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay I could get a dozen at Gillow’s next the rabbit shop,” replied + the young librarian, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet shuddered to the depths of his being, but he was now embarked + upon his enterprise and must crowd all sail. + </p> + <p> + “Go to Gillow’s,” he exclaimed, with an assumption of feverish geniality, + “and bring back a couple of rabbits—I mean bottles. They must be + dry. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + The young librarian looked out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’ll manage that, sir. It ain’t raining,” he replied carelessly. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet stifled a cry of horror as he pressed the sovereign into the + young librarian’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “You can keep the change,” he whispered, adding in a tremulous voice, + “Tell me—tell me frankly—do you think in your own mind that + there will be any?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know about in my own mind,” rejoined the young librarian, drawing + a tweed cap from some hidden recess beneath the counter. “But if you only + want two bottles I expect there’ll be ten bob over.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet turned as pale as ashes and had some difficulty in sustaining + himself to the parlour, where he and Malkiel the Second sat down in + silence to await the young librarian’s return. Frederick Smith came back + in about five minutes, with an ostentatious-looking bottle smothered in + gold leaf under each arm. + </p> + <p> + “There was four shillings apiece to pay, sir,” he remarked to the Prophet + as he placed them upon the table. “I got the ‘our own make’ brand with the + ‘creaming foam’ upon the corks.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet bent his head. He was quite unable to speak, but he signed to + the young librarian to open one of the bottles and pour its contents into + the two tumblers of thick and rather dusty glass that Jellybrand’s kept + for its moments of conviviality. Malkiel the Second lifted the goblet to + the window and eyed the beaded nectar with an air of almost rakish + anticipation. + </p> + <p> + “Ready, sir?” he said, turning to the Prophet, who, with a trembling hand, + followed his example. + </p> + <p> + “Quite—ready,” said the Prophet, shutting his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” rejoined Malkiel the Second in a formal voice, “here’s luck!” + </p> + <p> + He held the tumbler to his lips, waiting for the Prophet’s reply to give + the signal for a unanimous swallowing of the priceless wine. + </p> + <p> + “Luck,” echoed the Prophet in a faltering voice. + </p> + <p> + As he gradually recovered his faculties, he heard Malkiel the Second say, + with an almost debauched accent,— + </p> + <p> + “That puts heart into a man. I shall give Gillows an order. Leave us, + Frederick Smith, and remember that Miss Minerva is on no account to be let + in here till this gentleman and I have finished the second bottle.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet could not resist a wild movement of protest, which was + apparently taken by the young librarian as a passionate gesture of + dismissal. For he left the room rapidly and closed the door with decision + behind him. + </p> + <p> + “And now, sir, I am at your service,” said Malkiel the Second, + courteously. “Let me pour you another glass of wine.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet assented mechanically. It seemed strange to have to die so + young, and with so many plans unfulfilled, but he felt that it was useless + to struggle against destiny and he drank again. Then he heard a voice say,— + </p> + <p> + “And now, sir, I am all attention.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up. He saw the parlour, the ground glass of the door, the + tumblers and bottles on the table, the sharp features and strained, + farcical eyes of Malkiel framed in the matted, curling hair. Then all was + not over yet. There was something still in store for him. He sat up, + pushed the creaming four-shilling foam out of his sight, turned to his + interlocutor, and with a great effort collected himself. + </p> + <p> + “I want to consult you,” he began, “about my strange powers.” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel smiled with easy irony. + </p> + <p> + “Strange powers in Berkeley Square!” he ejaculated. “The Berkeley Square! + But go on, sir. What are they?” + </p> + <p> + “Having been led to study the stars,” continued the Prophet with more + composure and growing earnestness, “I felt myself moved to make a + prophecy.” + </p> + <p> + “Weather forecast, I suppose,” remarked Malkiel, laconically. + </p> + <p> + “How did you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “The easiest kind, sir, the number one beginner’s prophecy. Capricornus + used to tell Madame what the weather’d be as soon as he could talk. But go + on, sir, go on, I beg.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet began to feel rather less like Isaiah, but he continued, with + some determination,— + </p> + <p> + “If that had been all, I daresay I should have thought very little of the + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you wouldn’t sir. Who thinks their first baby a little one? Can you + tell me that?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet considered the question for a moment. Then he answered,— + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you’re right.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so,” rejoined Malkiel, indulgently. “Well, sir, what was your + next attempt—in the Berkeley Square?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet’s sensitive nature winced under the obvious irony of the + interrogation, but either the “creaming foam” had rendered him desperate, + or he was to some extent steeled against the satire by the awful + self-respect which had invaded him since Mrs. Merillia’s accident. In any + case he answered firmly,— + </p> + <p> + “Malkiel the Second, in Berkeley Square I had a relation—an honoured + grandmother.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve the better of me there, sir. My parents and Madame’s are all in + Brompton Cemetery. Well, sir, you’d got an honoured grandmother in the + Berkeley Square. What of it?” + </p> + <p> + “She was naturally elderly.” + </p> + <p> + “And you predicted her death and she passed over. Very natural too, sir. + The number two beginner’s prophecy. Why, Corona—” + </p> + <p> + But at this point the Prophet broke in. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” he said in a scandalised voice, “excuse me, Malkiel the + Second, she did nothing of the kind. Whatever my faults may be—and + they are many, I am aware—I—I—” + </p> + <p> + He was greatly moved. + </p> + <p> + “Take another sup of wine, sir. You need it,” said Malkiel. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet mechanically drank once more, grasping the edge of the table + for support in the endurance of the four-bob ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + “You prophesied it and she didn’t pass over, sir,” continued Malkiel, with + unaffected sympathy. “I understand the blow. It’s cruel hard when a + prophecy goes wrong. Why, even Madame—” + </p> + <p> + But at this point the Prophet broke in. + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken,” he cried. “Utterly mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel the Second drew himself up with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “In that case I will say no more,” he remarked, pursing up his lengthy + mouth and assuming a cast-iron attitude. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet perceived his mistake. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” he exclaimed. “It is my fault.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sir. Not at all,” rejoined Malkiel, with icy formality. “Pray let + the fault be mine.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not indeed. But let me explain. My beloved grandmother still + lives, although I cast her horoscope and—” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! very remarkable!” + </p> + <p> + “I mean—not although—but I thought I would cast her horoscope. + And I did so.” + </p> + <p> + “In the square?” asked Malkiel, with quiet, but piercing, irony. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Prophet, with sudden heat. “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel smiled with an almost paternal pity, as of a thoughtful father + gazing upon the quaint and inappropriate antics of his vacant child. + </p> + <p> + “Why not, sir—if you prefer it?” he rejoined. “Pray proceed.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet’s face was flushed, either by the “creaming foam,” or by + irritation, or by both. + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” he began, in a choking voice, “surely the stars are the same + whether they are looked at from Berkeley Square or from—from—or + from”—he sought passionately for a violent contrast—“from + Newington Butts,” he concluded triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “I have not the pleasure to have ever observed my guides from the + neighbourhood of the Butts,” said Malkiel, serenely. “But pray proceed, + sir. I am all attention. You cast your honoured grandmother’s horoscope—in + the Berkeley Square.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet seized his glass, but some remnants of his tattered + self-control still clung to him, and he put it down without seeking + further madness from its contents. + </p> + <p> + “I did,” he said firmly, even obstinately. “And I discovered—I say + discovered that she was going to have an accident while on an evening + expedition—or jaunt as you might perhaps prefer to call it.” + </p> + <p> + “I should certainly call it so—in the case of a lady who was an + honoured grandmother,” said Malkiel the Second in assent. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Malkiel the Second,” continued the Prophet, recovering his + composure as he approached his <i>coup</i>, “my grandmother did have an + accident, as I foretold.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she have it in the square, sir?” asked Malkiel. + </p> + <p> + “And what if she did?” cried the Prophet with considerable testiness. + </p> + <p> + He was beginning to conceive a perfect hatred of the admirable + neighbourhood, which he had loved so well. + </p> + <p> + “I merely ask for information, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “The accident did take place in the square certainly, and on the very + night for which I predicted it.” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel the Second looked very thoughtful, even morose. He poured out + another glass of champagne, drank it slowly in sips, and when the glass + was empty ran the forefinger of his right hand slowly round and round its + edge. + </p> + <p> + “Can Madame be wrong?” he ejaculated at length, in a muffled voice of + meditation. “Can Madame be wrong?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet gazed at him with profound curiosity, fascinated by the + circular movement of the yellow dogskin finger, and by the inward murmur—so + acutely mental—that accompanied it. + </p> + <p> + “Madame?” whispered the Prophet, drawing his cane chair noiselessly + forward. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” rejoined Malkiel, gazing upon him with an eye whose pupil seemed + suddenly dilated to a most preternatural size. “Can she have been wrong + all these many years?” + </p> + <p> + “What—what about?” murmured the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Malkiel the Second leaned his matted head in his hands and replied, as if + to himself,— + </p> + <p> + “Can it be that a prophet should live in Berkeley Square—not + Kimmins’s”—here he raised his head, and raked his companion with a + glance that was almost fierce in its fervour of inquiry—“not + Kimmins’s but—the Berkeley Square?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <h3> + THE SECRET WATERS OF THE RIVER MOUSE + </h3> + <p> + To this question the Prophet could offer no answer other than a bodily + one. He silently presented himself to the gaze of Malkiel, instinctively + squaring his shoulders, opening out his chest, and expanding his nostrils + in an effort to fill as large a space in the atmosphere of the parlour as + possible. And Malkiel continued to regard him with the staring eyes of one + whose mind is seething with strange, upheaving thoughts and alarming + apprehensions. Mutely the Prophet swelled and mutely Malkiel observed him + swell, till a point was reached from which further progress—at least + on the Prophet’s part—was impossible. The Prophet was now as big as + the structure of his frame permitted him to be, and apparently Malkiel + realised the fact, for he suddenly dropped his eyes and exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “This matter must be threshed out thoroughly, Madame herself would wish it + so.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, drew his chair nearer to the Prophet’s, took off a glove and + continued,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir, you may be a prophet. You may have prophesied correctly in the + Berkeley Square. But if you are, and if you have, remember this—that + you have proved the self-sacrifice, the privation, the denial, the + subterfuge, the <i>mask</i>, and the position of Sagittarius Lodge in its + own grounds beside the River Mouse at Crampton St. Peter, N.—N., I + said, sir—totally and entirely unnecessary. I will go further, sir, + and I will say more. You have not only done that. You have also proved the + sacred instinct of a woman, a respectable married woman—such as we + must all reverence—false and deceived. Remember this, sir, remember + all this, then search yourself thoroughly and say whether what you have + told me is strictly true.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you—” began the Prophet, hastily. + </p> + <p> + But Malkiel sternly interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “Search yourself, sir, I beg!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “But upon my honour—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, sir, hush! I beg, nay, I insist, that you search yourself + thoroughly before you answer this momentous question.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet felt rather disposed to ask whether Malkiel expected him to + examine his pockets and turn out his boots. However, he sat still while + Malkiel drew out a large gold watch, held it solemnly in his hand for a + couple of minutes and then returned it to the waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you,” said the Prophet, “on my honour that all I have said is + strictly true.” + </p> + <p> + “And took place in the Berkeley Square?” + </p> + <p> + “And took place in the Berkeley Square.” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel nodded morosely. + </p> + <p> + “It may have been chance,” he said. “A weather forecast and an honoured + grandmother may have been mere luck. Still it looks bad—very bad.” + </p> + <p> + He sighed heavily, and seemed about to fall into a mournful reverie when + the Prophet cried sharply,— + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself, Malkiel the Second. You owe it to me to explain + yourself. Why should my strange gift—” + </p> + <p> + “If you have it, sir,” interrupted Malkiel, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “If I have it, very well—affect you? Why should it render the + self-sacrifice and—and the position of—of Sagittarius Lodge on + the river—the river—what river did you say—?” + </p> + <p> + “The River Mouse,” rejoined Malkiel in a muffled voice, and shaking his + head sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly—on the River Mouse at Crompton—” + </p> + <p> + “Crampton.” + </p> + <p> + “Crampton St. Peter total—” + </p> + <p> + “N.!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Crampton St. Peter. N. That is the point.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well—Crampton St. Peteren, totally and entirely unnecessary?” + </p> + <p> + “You desire my revelation, sir? You desire to enter into the bosom of a + family that hitherto has dwelt apart, has lain as I may say <i>perdew</i> + beside the secret waters of the River Mouse? Is it indeed so?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I beg your pardon,” cried the Prophet, hastily. “I would not for the + world intrude upon—” + </p> + <p> + “Those hallowed precincts! Well, perhaps you have the right. Jellybrand’s + has betrayed me to you. You know my name, my profession. Why should you + not know more? Perhaps it is better so.” + </p> + <p> + With the sudden energy of a man who is reckless of fate he seized his + goblet, poured into it at least a shilling’s worth of “creaming foam,” + drained it to the dregs and, shaking back his matted hair with a leonine + movement of the head, exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Malkiel the First, who founded the <i>Almanac</i>, lay <i>perdew</i> all + his life.” + </p> + <p> + “Beside the secret waters of the River Mouse?” the Prophet could not help + interposing. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. He would never have gone so far as that. But he lived and died + in Susan Road beside the gas-works. He was a great man.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure he was,” said the Prophet, heartily. + </p> + <p> + “He wished me to live and die there too,” said Malkiel. “But there are + limits, sir, even to the forbearance of women. Madame was affected, + painfully affected, by the gas, sir. It stank in her nostrils—to use + a figure. And then there was another drawback that she could not get + over.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “The sweeps, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon!” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “I said—the sweeps.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard you—well?” + </p> + <p> + “Being the only people that were not, in the whole road, made for + loneliness, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet was entirely <i>bouleverse</i>. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I’m very stupid, but really I—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible that you live in London, sir, and are not aware that Susan + Road lies in the most sought-after portion of the sweeps’ quarter?” said + Malkiel, with pitying amazement. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet blushed with shame. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon. Of course—I understand. Pray go on.” + </p> + <p> + “It made for loneliness, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally.” + </p> + <p> + “Their hours were not our hours. And then the professional colour! Madame + said it was like living among the Sandwich Islanders. And so, to an + extent, it was. My father had left a very tidy bit of money—a very + tidy bit indeed, and we resolved to move. But where? That was the problem. + For I was not as other men. I could not live like them—in the + Berkeley Square.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled with mournful superiority and continued,— + </p> + <p> + “At least I thought so then, and have done till to-day. Prophets—so + my father believed, and so Madame—must be connected with the suburbs + or with outlying districts. They must not, indeed they cannot, be properly + prophetic within the radius. A central atmosphere would reduce them to the + level of the conjuror or the muscular suggestionist. Malkiel the First, my + father, was born himself in Peckham, and met my mother when coming through + the rye.” + </p> + <p> + He brushed aside a tear that flowed at this almost rustic recollection, + and continued,— + </p> + <p> + “Yet Madame was wishful, and I was wishful too, that the children—if + we had any—should not grow up Eastern. It was a natural and a + beautiful desire, sir, was it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very,” replied the Prophet, considerably confused. + </p> + <p> + “The habits and manners of the East, you see, sir, are not always in + strict accordance with propriety. Are they?” + </p> + <p> + Before the Prophet had time to realise that this question was merely + rhetorical, he began,— + </p> + <p> + “From what Professor Seligman says in his <i>The Inner History of Baghdad</i>, + I feel sure—” + </p> + <p> + “Nor are the customs of the East quite what many a clergyman would approve + of,” continued Malkiel. “Yet even this was not what weighed most with + Madame.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it then?” inquired the Prophet, deeply interested. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, it was the Eastern language.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Could we let our children learn to speak it? Could we bear to launch them + in life, handicapped, weighed down by such a tongue? Could we do this?” + </p> + <p> + Again the Prophet mistook the nature of the question, and was led to + reply,— + </p> + <p> + “Certainly English children speaking only Arabic might well be at some + loss in ordinary conver—” + </p> + <p> + “We could not, sir. It was impossible. So we resolved to go to the north + of London and to avoid Whitechapel at whatever cost.” + </p> + <p> + “Whitechapel!” almost cried the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “This determination it was, sir, that eventually led our steps to the + borders of the River Mouse.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, really!” + </p> + <p> + “You know it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Not personally.” + </p> + <p> + “But by repute, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, no doubt,” stammered the Prophet, who had in fact never before + heard of this celebrated flood. + </p> + <p> + “That poor governess, sir, last August—you recollect?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, indeed!” murmured the Prophet, a trifle incoherently. + </p> + <p> + “And then the mad undertaker in the autumn,” continued Malkiel, with + conscious pride; “he floated past our very door.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he really?” + </p> + <p> + “Singing his swan song, no doubt, poor feller, as Madame said after she + read about it in the paper. There were the grocer’s twins as well, just + lately. But they will be fresh in your memory.” + </p> + <p> + Before the Prophet had time to state whether this was so or not Malkiel + proceeded,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, as soon as Madame and I had come to the Mouse we resolved that + we could do no better than that. It was salubrious, it was retired, and it + was N.” + </p> + <p> + “You said—?” + </p> + <p> + “N., sir.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is en?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet had grown very red, but he was seized by the desperation that + occasionally attacks ignorance, and renders it, for a moment, determinedly + explicit. + </p> + <p> + “I ask you what does en mean? I am, I fear, a very ill-informed person, + and I really don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of an envelope, sir,” said Malkiel, with gentle commiseration. + “Well, are you thinking?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet grew purple. + </p> + <p> + “I am—but it is no use. Besides, why on earth should I think of an + envelope? I beg you to explain.” + </p> + <p> + “North, sir, the northern postal district of the metropolis. Fairly simple + that—I think, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “N.!” cried the illuminated Prophet. “I see. I was thinking of en all the + time. I beg your pardon. Please go on. N.—of course!” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel concealed a smile, just sufficiently to make its existence for an + instant vitally prominent, and continued,— + </p> + <p> + “By the Mouse we resolved to build a detached residence such as would + influence suitably the minds of the children—should we have any. For + we had resolved, sir, by that time that with me the <i>Almanac</i> should + cease.” + </p> + <p> + Here Malkiel leaned forward upon the deal table and lowered his voice to + an impressive whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, it had come to that. We all have our ambitions and that was + mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens!” said the Prophet. “Malkiel’s <i>Almanac</i> cease! But + why? Such a very useful institution!” + </p> + <p> + “Useful! More than that, sir, sublime! There’s nothing like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why let it cease?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the social status of the prophet, sir, is not agreeable to myself + or Madame. I’ve had enough of it, sir, already, and I’m barely turned of + fifty. Besides, my father would have wished it, I feel sure, had he lived + in these days. Had he seen Sagittarius Lodge, the children, and how Madame + comports herself, he would have recognised that the family was destined to + rise into a higher sphere than that occupied by any prophet, however + efficient. Besides, I will not deceive you, I have made money. In another + ten years’ time, when I have laid by sufficient, I tell you straight, sir, + that I shall go out of prophecy, right out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your Capricor—that is your son—will not carry on the—” + </p> + <p> + “Capricornus a prophet, sir!” cried Malkiel. “Not if Madame and I know it. + No, sir, Capricornus is to be an architect.” + </p> + <p> + As Malkiel pronounced the last words he flung his black overcoat wide open + with an ample gesture, thrust one hand into his breast, and assumed the + fixed and far-seeing gaze of a man in a cabinet photograph. He seemed lost + to his surroundings, and rapt by some great vision of enchanted + architects, busy in drawing plans of the magic buildings of the future + ages. The Prophet felt that it would be impious to disturb him. Malkiel’s + reverie was long, and indeed the two prophets might well have been sitting + in Jellybrand’s parlour now, had not a violent sneeze called for the pink + assistance of the flight of storks, and brought the sneezer down to the + level of ordinary humanity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—I give you my word Capricornus is to be an architect,” + repeated Malkiel. “What do you say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it—is it really a better profession than that of prophecy?” + asked the Prophet, rather nervously. + </p> + <p> + Malkiel smiled mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, it may not be more lucrative, but it is more select. Madame will not + mix with prophets, but she has a ‘day,’ sir, on the banks of the Mouse, + and she has gathered around her a very pleasant and select little circle.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Architects and their wives. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite,” rejoined the Prophet, “quite.” + </p> + <p> + Under the mesmeric influence of Malkiel he began to feel as if architects + were some strange race of sacred beings set apart, denizens of some holy + isle or blessed nook of mediaeval legend. Would he ever meet them? Would + he ever encounter one ranging unfettered where flowed the waters of the + River Mouse? + </p> + <p> + “They do not know who we are, sir,” continued Malkiel, furtively. “To them + and to the whole world—excepting Jellybrand’s and you—we are + the Sagittariuses of Sagittarius Lodge, people at ease, sir, living upon + our competence beside the Mouse. They do not see the telescope, sir, in + the locked studio at the top of the lodge. They do not know why sometimes, + on Madame’s ‘Wednesdays,’ I am pale—with sitting up on behalf of the + <i>Almanac</i>. For Capricornus’s sake and for Corona’s all this is hid + from the world. Madame and I are the victims of a double life. Yes, sir, + for the children’s sake we have never dared to let it be known what I + really am.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he began to grow excited. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” he cried, “after all these years of secrecy, after all these + years of avoiding the central districts—in which Madame longs to + live—after all these years of seclusion beyond the beat even of the + buses, do you come here to me, and search yourself and say upon your oath + that a prophet can live and be a prophet in the Berkeley Square, that he + can read the stars with Gunter’s just opposite, ay, and bring out an + almanac if he likes within a shilling fare of the Circus? If this is so”—he + struck the deal table violently with his clenched fist—“of what use + are the sacrifices of myself and Madame? Of what use is it to live under a + modest name such as Sagittarius, when I might be Malkiel the Second to the + whole world? Of what use to flee from W. and dwell perpetually in N.? Why, + if what you say is true, we might leave the Mouse to-morrow and Madame + could pop in and out of the Stores just like any lady of pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + At the thought of this so long foregone enchantment Malkiel’s emotion + completely overcame him, his voice died away, overborne by a violent fit + of choking, and he sat back in his cane chair trembling in every limb. The + Prophet was deeply moved by his emotion, and longed most sincerely to + assuage it. But his deep and growing conviction of his own power rendered + him useless as a comforter. He could not lie. He could not deny that he + was a prophet. He could only say, in his firmest voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Malkiel the Second, be brave. You must see this thing through.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing these original and noble words Malkiel lifted up his marred + countenance. + </p> + <p> + “I know it, sir, I know it,” he answered. “One moment. The thought of + Madame—the Stores—I—of all that might perhaps have been—” + </p> + <p> + He choked again. The Prophet looked away. A strong man’s emotion is always + very scared and very terrible. Three minutes swept by, then the Prophet + heard a calm and hollow voice say,— + </p> + <p> + “And now, sir, to business.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet looked up, and perceived that Malkiel’s overcoat was tightly + buttoned and that his mouth was tightly set in an expression of + indomitable, though tragic, resolution. + </p> + <p> + “What business?” asked the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Mine,” replied Malkiel. “Mine, sir, and yours. You have chosen to enter + my life. You cannot deny that. You cannot deny that I sought to avoid—I + might even say to dodge you.” + </p> + <p> + With the remembrance of the recent circus performance in the library still + strong upon him the Prophet could not. He bowed his head. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir. You have chosen to enter my life. That act has given me + the right to enter yours. Am I correct?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose—I mean—yes, you are,” answered the Prophet, + overwhelmed by the pitiless logic of his companion, and wondering what was + coming next. + </p> + <p> + “I have been forced—I think I may say that—to reveal myself to + you, sir. Nothing can ever alter that. Nothing can ever take from you the + knowledge—denied by Madame to the very architects—of who I + really am. You have told me, sir, that I must see this thing through. I + tell you now, at this table, in this parlour, that I intend to see it + through—and through.” + </p> + <p> + As Malkiel said the last words he gazed at the Prophet with eyes that + seemed suddenly to have taken on the peculiar properties of the gimlet. + The Prophet began to feel extremely uneasy. But he said nothing. He felt + that there was more to come. And he was right. + </p> + <p> + “It is my duty,” continued Malkiel, in a louder voice, “my sacred duty to + Madame—to say nothing of Corona and Capricornus—to probe you + to the core”—here the Prophet could not resist a startled movement + of protest—“and to search you to the quick.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, really!” cried the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “This duty I shall carry out unflinchingly,” pursued Malkiel, “at whatever + cost to myself. This will not be our last interview. Do not think it.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you,” inserted the Prophet, endeavouring vainly to seem at ease, + “I do not wish to think it.” + </p> + <p> + “It matters little whether you wish to do so or not,” continued Malkiel, + with an increasingly Juggernaut air. “The son of Malkiel the First is not + a man to be trifled with or dodged. Moreover, much more than the future of + myself and family depends upon what you really are. From this day forth + you will be bound up with the <i>Almanac</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Merciful Heavens!” ejaculated the Prophet, unable, intrepid as he was, to + avoid recoiling when he found himself thus suddenly confronted with the + fate of an appendix. + </p> + <p> + “For why should it ever cease?” proceeded Malkiel, with growing passion. + “Why—if a prophet can live, as you declare, freely and openly in the + Berkeley Square? If this is so, why should I not remove, along with Madame + and family, from the borders of the Mouse and reside henceforth in a + central situation such as I should wish to reside in? Why should not + Capricornus eventually succeed me in the <i>Almanac</i> as I succeeded + Malkiel the First? Already the boy shows the leanings of a prophet. + Hitherto Madame and I have endeavoured to stifle them, to turn them in an + architectural direction. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I am trying to,” stammered the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Hitherto we have corrected the boy’s table manners when they have become + too like those of the average prophet—as they often have—for + hitherto we have had reason to believe that all prophets—with the + exception of myself—were dirty, deceitful and essentially suburban + persons. But if you are a prophet we have been deceived. Trust me, sir, I + shall find speedy means to pierce you to the very marrow.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet began mechanically to feel for his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Are you desirous of anything, sir?” said Malkiel, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the Prophet, wondering whether the moment had arrived to throw + off all further pretence of bravery and to shout boldly for the assistance + of the young librarian. + </p> + <p> + “Then why are you feeling about, sir? Why are you feeling about?” + </p> + <p> + “Was I?” faltered the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “You are looking for another glass of wine, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed,” said the Prophet, desperately. “For anything but that.” + </p> + <p> + But Malkiel, moved by some abruptly formed resolution, called suddenly in + a powerful voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Frederick Smith!” + </p> + <p> + “Here, Mr. Sagittarius!” cried the young librarian, appearing with + suspicious celerity upon the parlour threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Draw the cork of the second bottle, Frederick Smith,” said Malkiel, + impressively. “This gentleman is about to take the pledge”—on + hearing this ironic paradox the Prophet stood up, very much in the + attitude formerly assumed by Malkiel when about to dodge in the library—“that + I shall put to him,” concluded Malkiel, also standing up, and assuming the + library posture of the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Indeed the situation of the library seemed about to be accurately reversed + in the parlour of Jellybrand’s. + </p> + <p> + The young librarian assisted the cork to emerge phlegmatically from the + neck of the second bottle of champagne, mechanically smacking his lips the + while. + </p> + <p> + “Now pour, and leave us, Frederick Smith.” + </p> + <p> + The young librarian helped the fatigued-looking wine into the two glasses, + where it lay as if thoroughly exhausted by the effort of getting there, + and then languidly left the parlour, turning his bulging head over his + shoulder to indulge in a pathetic <i>oeillade</i> ere he vanished. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet watched him go. + </p> + <p> + “Close the door, Frederick Smith,” cried Malkiel, in a meaning manner. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet blushed a guilty red, and the young librarian obeyed with a + bang. + </p> + <p> + “And now, sir, I must request you to take a solemn pledge in this + vintage,” said Malkiel, placing one of the tumblers in the Prophet’s + trembling hand. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” said the Prophet, “I am not at all thirsty.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should you be, sir? What has that got to do with it?” retorted + Malkiel. “Lift your glass, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “And now take this pledge—that, till the last day—” + </p> + <p> + “What day?” + </p> + <p> + “The last day, sir, you will reveal to no living person that there is such + an individual as Malkiel, that you have ever met him, who he is, or who + Madame and family are, unless I give the word. You have surprised my + secret. You have forced yourself upon me. You owe me this. Drink!” + </p> + <p> + Mechanically the Prophet drank. + </p> + <p> + “Swear!” + </p> + <p> + Mechanically—indeed almost like a British working man—the + Prophet swore. + </p> + <p> + Malkiel drained his tumbler, and drew on the dogskin glove which, in the + agitation of a previous moment, he had thrown aside. + </p> + <p> + “I have your card, sir, here is mine. I shall now take the train to the + River Mouse, on whose banks I shall confer at once with Madame. Till I + have done this I cannot tell you what form the tests I shall have to apply + to you will take. When I have done it you will hear from me. Your servant, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed majestically, and was turning towards the door when it was + hastily opened and a lady appeared frantically in the aperture. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <h3> + MALKIEL THE SECOND POISONS MISS MINERVA + </h3> + <p> + “Miss Minerva!” exclaimed Malkiel the Second. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Enid!” cried the Prophet, at the same moment. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t go in there, Miss Partridge!” ejaculated the young librarian, + simultaneously, from the further room. + </p> + <p> + The lady, a tall girl of twenty-two, with grey eyes, dark smooth hair, and + a very agreeable, though slightly Scottish, mouth, began to behave rather + like a stag at bay. She panted, and looked wildly round as if meditating + how, and in what direction, she could best bolt. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” cried the Prophet, his voice becoming not a little + piercing from surprise and his previous stress of agitation. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t go in there, Miss Minerva,” requested the young librarian, who + had now gained the parlour threshold, and who seemed about to take up a + very determined stand thereon. + </p> + <p> + “I must go in—I must,” said the lady, in a mellow, but again + slightly Scottish, voice. “Don’t tell anybody I’m here, or you’ll be + sorry.” + </p> + <p> + And, with these words, she bounded into the parlour and banged the door on + the young librarian. The Prophet opened his lips preparatory to a third + wild exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” the lady hissed aristocratically. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head vigourously at him, sank down on one of the cane + chairs, held up her right hand, and leant towards the door. It was obvious + that she was listening for something with strained attention, and so + eloquent was her attitude that the two prophets were infected with her + desire. They turned their eyes mechanically towards the deal door and + listened too. For a moment there was silence. Then a heavy footstep + resounded upon the library floor, accompanied by the sharp tap of a + walking stick. The lady’s attitude became more tense and the pupils of her + handsome grey eyes dilated. + </p> + <p> + “Has a young female just entered this shop?” said a very heavy and + rumbling voice. + </p> + <p> + “This ain’t a shop, sir,” replied the high soprano of the young librarian, + indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Bandy no words with me, thou infamous malapert!” returned the first + voice. “But answer my question. Have you a young female concealed within + these loathsome precincts?” + </p> + <p> + Under ordinary circumstances it is very possible that the young librarian + might have betrayed the lady as he had already betrayed Malkiel the + Second. But it happened that there existed upon the earth one object, and + one object only, towards which he felt a sense of chivalry. This object + was Jellybrand’s Library. His reply to the voice was therefore as follows, + and was delivered in his highest key and with extreme volubility and + passion:— + </p> + <p> + “Loathsome precincts yourself! You’re a nice one, you are, chasing + respectable ladies about at your age. There ain’t no young females in the + library, and if there was I shouldn’t trot ‘em out for you to clap your + ugly old eyes on. Now then, out yer go. No more words about it. Out yer + go!” + </p> + <p> + A prolonged sound of hard breathing and of feet scraping violently upon + bare boards followed upon this deliverance, complicated by the sharp snap + of a breaking walking stick, the thump of a falling chair, a bang as of a + heavy body encountering firm resistance from some inflexible article of + furniture—probably a bookcase—and finally a tremendous + thundering, as of the hoofs of a squadron of cavalry charging over a + parquet floor, the crash of a door, the grinding of a key swiftly turning + in a lock, and—silence. + </p> + <p> + The lady, Malkiel the Second and the Prophet looked at one another, and + the lady opened her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “D’you think he’s killed him?” she whispered with considerable curiosity. + </p> + <p> + There came a distant noise of a torrent of knocks upon a door. + </p> + <p> + “No, he hasn’t,” added the lady, arranging her dress. “That’s a good + thing.” + </p> + <p> + The two prophets nodded. The torrent of knocks roared louder, slightly + failed upon the ear, made a crescendo, emulated Niagara, surpassed that + very American effort of nature, wavered, faltered to Lodore, died away to + a feeble tittup like water dropping from a tap to flagstones, rose again + in a final spurt that would have made Southey open his dictionary for + adjectives, and drained away to death. + </p> + <p> + The lady leaned back. For the first time her composure seemed about to + desert her entirely. That fatal sign in woman, a working throat, + swallowing nothing with extreme rapidity and persistence, became apparent. + </p> + <p> + “A glass of wine, Miss Minerva?” cried Malkiel, gallantly. + </p> + <p> + He placed a tumbler to her lips. She feebly sipped, than sprang to her + feet with a cry. + </p> + <p> + “I’m poisoned!” + </p> + <p> + “You never spoke a truer word,” said the Prophet, solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” continued the lady, frantically. “What has he given me?” + </p> + <p> + “Champagne at four shillings a bottle brought fresh from next door to a + rabbit shop,” answered the Prophet, looking at Malkiel with almost + malignant satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + The lady, who had gone white as chalk, darted to the door and flung it + open. + </p> + <p> + “A glass of water!” she cried. “Get me a glass of water.” + </p> + <p> + The young librarian came forward with a black eye. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, ma’am. The gentleman’s gone,” he piped. + </p> + <p> + “What gentleman? Give me a glass of water or I shall die!” + </p> + <p> + The young librarian, who had already an injured air, proceeded from a + positive to a comparative condition of appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I never! What gentleman!” he exclaimed. “And me blue and black all + over, to say nothing of the bookcase and the new paint that’ll be wanted + for the door!” + </p> + <p> + “Can you chatter about trifles at such a moment?” cried the Prophet. + “Don’t you see the lady’s been poisoned?” + </p> + <p> + “What—by the old gent?” returned the young librarian. “Then what + does she come to a library for? Why don’t she go to a chemist?” + </p> + <p> + The lady turned her agonised eyes upon the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Take me to one,” she whispered through pale lips. + </p> + <p> + She tottered towards him and leaned upon his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Trust me, trust me, I will,” said the Prophet. “Direct me!” he added to + the young librarian. + </p> + <p> + “There’s one on the other side of the rabbit shop,” said that worthy, who + had suddenly become exceedingly glum in manner and morose in appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. Kindly unlock the door.” + </p> + <p> + The young librarian did so, lethargically, and the lady and the Prophet + began to move slowly into the street. Just as they were gaining it Malkiel + the Second cried out,— + </p> + <p> + “One moment, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Not one,” retorted the Prophet, firmly. “Not one till this lady has had + an antidote.” + </p> + <p> + He walked on with determination. Supporting the lady. But ere he got quite + out of earshot he caught these fragments of a shattered speech, hurtling + through the symphony of London noises:— + </p> + <p> + “Banks of the Mouse—Madame—sake of Capricor—be sure I—probe—quick—search—the + very core—hear from me—architects—marrow—almanac—the + last day—the Berkeley square—” + </p> + <p> + The final ejaculation melted away into the somewhat powerful discord + produced by the impact of a brewer’s dray with a runaway omnibus at the + corner of Greek Street, which was eventually resolved by the bursting of a + motor car—containing two bookmakers and an acting manager—which + mingled with them at the rate of perhaps forty miles an hour. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, please, a hansom,” said Lady Enid Thistle, some five minutes later, + as she and the Prophet stood together upon the kerb in front of the rabbit + shop. “I feel much better now.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet hailed a hansom and handed her into it. + </p> + <p> + “Which way are you going?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid looked doubtful. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to be going back to Jellybrand’s,” she said. “I had an + appointment. But really—you see Mr. Sagittarius is there, and + altogether—I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + She was obviously still upset by the “creaming foam,” and the other + incidents of the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Come to tea with grannie,” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “She’s at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She’s twisted her ankle.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m so sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me escort you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks. I think I will.” + </p> + <p> + “You won’t mind stopping for a moment at Hollings’s?” said the Prophet, in + Piccadilly Circus. “I promised to buy some roses. Somebody is coming in to + tea.” + </p> + <p> + “On, no. But who is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. Only one person, I think. An old friend, no doubt. Probably + the Central American Ambassador’s grandfather.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if that’s all! I feel a little shaky still.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet bought the roses and they drove on. + </p> + <p> + “It’s very nice of you not to ask any questions,” observed Lady Enid, + presently. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet had been thinking it was, but he only said,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m a woman,” promised Lady Enid, “and I don’t know whether I can be so + nice.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet glanced at her and met her curious grey eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Try—please,” he replied very gently, thinking of the oath which he + had just taken. + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid was silent for two minutes, then she remarked,— + </p> + <p> + “I have tried, but I can’t succeed. Why on earth were you closeted in the + parlour—at my time, too—with Mr. Sagittarius this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you really are Miss Minerva Partridge? And it was really you who had—had—well, + ‘bespoke’ the parlour at half-past three?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Now we are neither of us nice, but we’re both of us human.” + </p> + <p> + “There were some letters for you,” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid wrinkled her smooth, young, healthy-looking forehead. + </p> + <p> + “How stupid of me! I’ll fetch them to-morrow. Well?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at the Prophet with obvious expectation. + </p> + <p> + “I’m so sorry I can’t tell you,” he replied with gentle firmness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right,” she rejoined. “But now I’m at a disadvantage. You know + I’m Miss Minerva.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But I don’t know why you are, or why you go to Jellybrand’s, or why + you rushed into the parlour, or who the old gentleman was that—” + </p> + <p> + The cab stopped before Mrs. Merillia’s house. + </p> + <p> + In the hall, upon an oaken bench, they perceived a very broad-brimmed top + hat standing on its head. Beside it lay two pieces of a stout and knobbly + walking stick which had been broken in half. Lady Enid started violently. + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + She picked up the walking stick, examined it, and laid it down. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think I want any tea,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure you do,” said the Prophet, with some pressure. + </p> + <p> + She stood still for a moment. Then, catching the attentive round eye of + Gustavus, who was waiting by the hall door, she shrugged her shoulders and + walked towards the staircase. + </p> + <p> + “It’s very hard lines,” she murmured as she began to ascend: “all the + questions you wanted to ask are being answered. You know I’m Miss Minerva + already. In another minute you’ll know who the old gentleman was that—” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet could tell from the expression of her straight, slightly + Scottish, back that she was pouting as she entered the drawing-room where + Mrs. Merillia was having tea with—somebody. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <h3> + THE OLD ASTRONOMER DISCOURSETH OF THE STARS + </h3> + <p> + Never before had the Prophet felt so alive with curiosity as he did when + he followed Lady Enid into Mrs. Merillia’s presence, for he knew that he + was about to see the venerable victim of the young librarian’s indignant + chivalry, the “old gent” who had come to intimate terms with Jellybrand’s + bookcase, and who had kicked and knocked at least a pint of paint off + Jellybrand’s door. His eyes were large and staring as he glanced swiftly + from his grandmother’s sofa to the huge telescope, under whose very shadow + was seated no less a personage than Sir Tiglath Butt, holding a cup of tea + on one hand and a large-sized muffin in the other. + </p> + <p> + No wonder the Prophet jumped. No wonder Mrs. Merillia cried out, in her + pretty, clear voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Take care of Beau, Hennessey! You’re treading on him.” + </p> + <p> + The dachshund’s pathetic shriek of outrage made the rafters ring. Mrs. + Merillia put her mittens to her ears, and Sir Tiglath dropped his muffin + into a jar of pot-pourri. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said the Prophet, earnestly. “Sir Tiglath—this + is indeed a sur—a pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid was being embraced by Mrs. Merillia. The Prophet extended his + hand to the astronomer, who, however, turned his back to the company and, + diving one of his enormous hands into the pot-pourri jar, began to rummage + violently for his vanished meal. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” said the Prophet, who had not seen the muffin go. “Can I + help you?” + </p> + <p> + Still presenting his huge back and the purple nape of his fat neck to the + assemblage, the astronomer, after trying in vain to extract the lost + dainty in a legitimate manner, turned the jar upside down, and poured the + rose-leaves and the muffin in a heterogeneous libation upon the + Chippendale table. After a close examination of it he turned around, + holding up the food to whose buttered surface several leaves adhered in a + disordered, but determined, manner. + </p> + <p> + “Only a Persian could devour this muffin now,” he said, in his rumbling, + sing-song and strangely theatrical voice, which always suggested that he + was about to deliver a couple of hundred or so lengths of blank verse. + “Omar beneath his tree perchance, or Gurustu who to Baghdad came with + steed a-foam and eyes a-flame. Wherefore do you trample upon hapless + animals that are not dumb, young man, and cause the poor astronomer to + cast his muffin upon the roses, where, mayhap, the housemaid might find it + after many days? Oh-h-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + He uttered a tremulous bass cry of mingled reproach and despair, that + sounded rather like the wail of some deplorable watchman upon a city wall, + shaking his enormous head at the Prophet the while, and flapping his red + hands slowly in the air. + </p> + <p> + “How d’you do, Sir Tiglath?” said Lady Enid, coming up to him with light + carelessness. + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Very ill, very ill,” he rumbled, looking at her furtively with his glassy + eyes. “One has had an afternoon of tragedy, an afternoon of brawling and + of disturbance, in an avenue that shall henceforth be called accursed.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down upon his armchair, with his short legs stuck straight out and + resting upon his heels alone, his hands folded across his stomach, and his + purple triple chin sunk in his elaborate, but very dusty, cravat. Wagging + his head to and fro, he added, with the heavy, concluding tremolo that + decorated most of his vocal efforts, “Thrice accursed. Oh-h-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid, who seemed to have quite recovered her self-possession, sat + down by Mrs. Merillia, while the Prophet, in some confusion, offered to + his grandmother the bunch of roses he had bought at Hollings’s. + </p> + <p> + “They’re a little late, grannie, I’m afraid,” he said. “But I was + unavoidably detained.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia glanced at him sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Detained, Hennessey! Then you found what you were seeking?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet remembered his oath and turned scarlet. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, grannie,” he murmured hastily, and looking like a criminal. “I + met Lady Enid,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you meet the lady, young man?” said Sir Tiglath. “Was it in the + accursed avenue?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid shot a hasty glance of warning at the Prophet. Mrs. Merillia + intercepted it, and began to form fresh ideas of that young person, whom + she had formerly called sensible, but whom she now began to think of as + crafty. + </p> + <p> + “Which avenue is that, Sir Tiglath?” asked the Prophet, with a rather + inadequate assumption of innocence. + </p> + <p> + “The Avenue in which one beholds the perfidy darting into hidden places, + young man, in which the defenders of foolish virgins are buffeted and + browbeaten by counter-jumpers with craniums as big as the great nebula of + Orion. The avenue named after a crumbled philanthropist, who could walk, + sheeted, through the atrocious night could his sacred dust awake to the + abominations that are perpetrated under the protection of his shadow. Let + dragons lay it waste like the highways of Babylon.” + </p> + <p> + He gathered up a crumpet, and blinked at Lady Enid, who was airily sipping + her tea with a slightly detached air of calm and maidenly dignity. + </p> + <p> + “I think Sir Tiglath must be describing Shaftesbury Avenue,” remarked Mrs. + Merillia, rather mischievously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, really,” stammered the Prophet, “I had no idea that it was such an + evil neighbourhood.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is Shaftesbury Avenue?” asked Lady Enid, gently folding a fragment + of thin bread and butter and nibbling it with her pretty mouth. + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath elevated his hands and rolled his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Where partridges are to be found in January, oh-h-h-h!” was his very + unexpected reply. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet started violently, and even Lady Enid looked disconcerted for + a moment. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Sir Tiglath?” she said, recovering herself. + </p> + <p> + She turned to Mrs. Merillia. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what he means,” she said. “He never talks sensibly unless he is + in his observatory, or lecturing to the Royal Society on the ‘Regularity + of Heavenly Bodies,’ or—” + </p> + <p> + “The irregularities of earthly ones,” interposed Sir Tiglath. “In the + accursed avenue—oh-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + “I fear, Sir Tiglath, you must be a member of the Vigilance Society,” said + Mrs. Merillia. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He looks at the morals of the stars through his telescope,” said + Lady Enid. “By the way—do you, too?” she added to the Prophet, for + the first time observing the instrument in the bow window. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia and Sir Tiglath exchanged a glance. An earnest expression + came into the Prophet’s face. + </p> + <p> + “I confess,” he said, with becoming modesty in the presence of the great + master of modern astronomy, “that I do watch the heavens from that + window.” + </p> + <p> + “And for what purpose, young man?” rumbled Sir Tiglath, for the first time + dropping his theatrical manner of an old barn-stormer, and speaking like + any ordinary fogey, such as you may see at a meeting on behalf of the + North Pole, or at a dinner of the Odde Volumes. + </p> + <p> + “For—for purposes of research, Sir Tiglath,” answered the Prophet, + with some diplomacy. + </p> + <p> + “The young man trieth to put off the old astronomer with fair words,” + bellowed Sir Tiglath. “The thief inserteth his thumb into the tail pocket + of the unobservant archbishop for purposes of research. The young man + playeth merrily forsooth with the old astronomer.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia nodded her lace cap at him encouragingly. It was evident + that there was an understanding between them. Lady Enid began to wonder + what was its nature. The Prophet seemed rather disconcerted at the + reception given to his not wholly artless ambiguity. + </p> + <p> + “Grannie,” he said, turning to Mrs. Merillia, “you know how deeply the + stars interest me.” + </p> + <p> + “For their own sake, young man?” said Sir Tiglath. “Or as the accursed + avenue interests the foolish virgins—for the sake of frivolity, idle + curiosity, or dark doings which could not support the light even of a star + of the sixth magnitude? Can you tell your admirable and revered granddam + that?” + </p> + <p> + This time, underneath his preposterous manner and fantastic speech, both + Lady Enid and the Prophet fancied that they could detect an element of + real gravity, even perhaps a hint of weighty censure which made them both + feel very young—rising two, or thereabouts. + </p> + <p> + “I was originally led to study stars, Sir Tiglath, because I had the + honour to meet you and make your acquaintance,” said the Prophet, + valiantly. + </p> + <p> + The astronomer lapsed at once into his first manner. + </p> + <p> + “In what fair company did the old astronomer converse with the young man?” + he cried. “His memory faileth him. He doteth and cannot recall the great + occasion.” + </p> + <p> + “It was at the Colley Cibber Club, Sir Tiglath,” said the Prophet, firmly. + “But we—we did not converse. You had a—a slight + indisposition.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you venture to imply—in the presence of your notable granddam—that + one had looked upon the wine when it was red, young man?” + </p> + <p> + “You had a glass of port by you certainly, Sir Tiglath. But you also had a + cold which, you gave me to understand—by signs—had affected + your throat and prevented you from carrying on conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Then was it the vision of the old astronomer’s personal and starry beauty + that led you, hot foot, to Venus through yonder telescope? Oh-h-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + “I did not take observations of Venus first,” answered the Prophet, with a + certain proud reserve. “I began by an examination into ‘The Milky Way.’” + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath impounded another crumpet. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, young man,” he cried. “The old astronomer lendeth ear.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet, who felt very much like a nervous undergraduate undergoing a + <i>viva-voce</i> examination, continued,— + </p> + <p> + “I became deeply interested, strongly attracted by the—the heavenly + bodies. They fascinated me. I could think of nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid’s Scottish lips tightened almost imperceptibly. + </p> + <p> + “I could talk of nothing else,” proceeded the Prophet. “Could I, grannie?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, Hennessey,” assented Mrs. Merillia. “All other topics were + banished from discussion.” + </p> + <p> + “All,” cried the Prophet, with increasing fervour and lack of + self-consciousness. “I could not tear myself from the telescope. I longed + for a perpetual night and found the day almost intolerably irksome.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath’s brick-red countenance was irradiated with a smile that did + not lack geniality. + </p> + <p> + “The old astronomer lendeth attentive ear to the young man’s epic,” he + roared, through the crumpet. “He approveth the young man’s admiration for + the heavenly bodies. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + But at the last command the Prophet seemed suddenly to jib. The reserved + expression returned to his face. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all, Sir Tiglath,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The astronomer and Mrs. Merillia again exchanged a glance which was not + unobserved by Lady Enid. Then Sir Tiglath, with an abrupt and portentous + gravity, exclaimed in thunderous tones,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir, are you a man of science or have you the brain of a charlatan + enclosed in the fleshy envelope of a conjurer and a sinner? Do you study + the noble and beautiful stars for their own sakes to find out what they + are, and what they are doing, what is their nature and what their place in + the great scheme, or do you peek and pry at them through the keyhole of a + contemptible curiosity in order to discover what you think they can do for + you, to set you on high, to puff you out into a personage and cause you to + be noticed of the foolish ones of this world? Which are you, sir, a young + man of parts whose hand I can grasp fraternally, or an insulter of + planets, sir, a Peeping Tom upon the glorious nudity of Venus, a Paul Pry + squinting at the mysteries of Mercury for an unholy and, what is more, an + idiotic purpose? What do you ask of the stars, sir? Tell the old + astronomer that!” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet was considerably taken aback by this tirade, which caused the + many ornaments in the pretty room to tremble. He gazed at his grandmother, + and found her nodding approval of Sir Tiglath. He glanced at Lady Enid. + She was leaning back in her chair and looking amused, like a person at an + entertainment. + </p> + <p> + “What do I ask, Sir Tiglath?” he murmured in some confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Do you ask about your reverent granddam’s hallowed ankles, sir? Do you + afflict the stars with inquiries about the state of the ridiculous + weather? Is that it?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet understood that Mrs. Merillia had been frank with the + astronomer. He cast upon her a glance of respectful reproach. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Hennessey,” she answered, “I have. My dear child, I thought it for + the best. This prophetic business would soon have been turning the house + upside down, and at my age I’m really not equal to living at close + quarters with a determined young prophet. To do so would upset the habits + of a lifetime. So Sir Tiglath knows all about it.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment of silence, which was broken by the agreeable voice of + Lady Enid saying,— + </p> + <p> + “All about what? Remember, please, that I’m a young woman and that all + young women share one quality. All about what, please?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia looked at the Prophet. The Prophet looked at Sir Tiglath, + who wagged his great head and cried, with rolling pathos and rebuke,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + “Please—Mr. Vivian!” repeated Lady Enid, with considerable + determination. + </p> + <p> + “Grannie means that I—that—well, that I have been enabled by + the stars to foretell certain future events,” said the Prophet, glancing + rather furtively at Sir Tiglath while he spoke, to note the effect of the + desperate declaration. + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h-h-h!” bellowed the distressed astronomer, shaking like a jelly in + his wrath. + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried Lady Enid, in an almost piercing voice, and with a manner + that had suddenly become most animated. “What—like Malkiel’s <i>Almanac</i> + does?” + </p> + <p> + This remark had a very striking effect upon Sir Tiglath, an effect indeed + so striking that it held Mrs. Merillia, Lady Enid and the Prophet in a + condition of paralytic expectation for at least three minutes by the + grandmother’s clock in the corner of the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + The venerable astronomer was already very stout in person and very + inflamed in appearance. But at this point in the discourse he suddenly + became so very much stouter and so very much more inflamed, that his + audience of three gazed upon him rather as little children gaze upon dough + which has been set by the cook to “rise” and which is fulfilling its + mission with an unexpected, and indeed intemperate, vivacity. Their eyes + grew round, their features rigid, their hands tense, their attitudes + expectant. Leaning forward, they stared upon Sir Tiglath with an unwinking + fixity and preternatural determination that was almost entirely infantine. + And while they did so he continued slowly to expand in size and to deepen + in colour until mortality seemed to drop from him. He ceased to be a man + and became a phenomenon, a purple thing that journeyed towards some + unutterable end, portentous as marching judgment, tragic as fate, + searching as epidemic, and yet heavily painted and generally touched up by + the brush of some humorous demon, such as lays about him in preparation + for Christmas pantomime, sworn to provide the giants’ faces and the ogres’ + heads for Drury Lane. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t!” at last cried a young voice. “Don’t, Sir Tiglath!” + </p> + <p> + A peal of laughter followed the remark, of that laughter which is loud and + yet entirely without the saving grace of merriment, a mere sudden + demonstration of hysteria. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Sir Tiglath—don’t!” + </p> + <p> + A second laugh joined the first and rang up with it, older, but also + hysterical—Mrs. Merillia’s. + </p> + <p> + “No, no—please don’t, Sir Tig—Tig—” + </p> + <p> + A third laugh burst into the ring, seeming to complete it fatally—the + Prophet’s. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Tiglath—for Heaven’s sake—don’t!” + </p> + <p> + The adjuration came from a trio of choked voices, and might have given + pause even to a descending lift or other inflexible and blind machine. + </p> + <p> + But still the astronomer grew steadily more gigantic in person and more + like the god of wine in hue. The three voices failed, and the terrible, + united laughter was just upon the point of breaking forth again when a + diversion occurred. The door of the drawing-room was softly opened, and + Mrs. Fancy Quinglet appeared upon the threshold, holding in her hands an + ice-wool shawl for the comfort of her mistress. It chanced that as the + phenomenon of the astronomer was based upon a large elbow chair exactly + facing the door she was instantly and fully confronted by it. She did not + drop the shawl, as any ordinary maid would most probably have done. Mrs. + Fancy was not of that kidney. She did not even turn tail, or give a + month’s warning or a scream. She was of those women who, when they meet + the inevitable, instinctively seem to recognise that it demands courage as + a manner and truth as a greeting. She, therefore, stared straight at Sir + Tiglath—much as she stared at Mrs. Merillia when she was about to + arrange that lady’s wig for an assembly—and remarked in a decisive, + though very respectful, tone of voice,— + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman’s about to burst, ma’am. I can’t speak different nor mean + other.” + </p> + <p> + Upon finding their thoughts thus deftly gathered up and woven into a + moderately grammatical sentence, Mrs. Merillia, Lady Enid and the Prophet + experienced a sense of extraordinary relief, and no longer felt the stern + necessity of laughing. But this was not the miracle worked by Mrs. Fancy. + Had she, even then, rested satisfied with her acumen, maintained silence + and awaited the immediate fulfilment of her prediction, what must have + happened can hardly be in doubt. But she was seized by that excess of + bravery which is called foolhardiness, and driven by it to that peculiar + and thoughtless vehemence of action which sometimes wins V.C.‘s for men + who, in later days, conceal amazement under the cherished decoration. She + suddenly laid down the ice-wool shawl upon a neighbouring sociable, walked + up to the phenomenon of the astronomer, and remarked to it with great + distinctness,— + </p> + <p> + “You’re about to burst, sir. I know it, sir, and I can’t know other.” + </p> + <p> + At this point the miracle happened, for, instead of responding to the + lady’s-maid’s appeal, and promptly disintegrating into his respective + atoms, Sir Tiglath suddenly became comparatively small and comparatively + pale, sat forward, wagged his head at Mrs. Fancy, and rumbled out in his + ordinary voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Have you never heard where liars go to, woman? Oh-h-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + On finding that nothing of supreme horror was about to happen, Mrs. + Fancy’s courage—as is the way of woman’s courage—forsook her, + she broke into tears, and had to be immediately led forth to the servant’s + hall by the Prophet, exclaiming persistently with every step they took,— + </p> + <p> + “I can’t help it, Master Hennessey. I say again as I said afore—the + gentleman’s about to burst. Them that knows other let them declare it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. It’s all right, Fancy, it’s all right. We all agree with you. + Now, now, you mustn’t cry.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t—know—other, Master Hennessey, nor—mean + different. I can’t indeed, Master Hennessey, I can’t—know other—nor—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Of course not. There, sit down and compose yourself.” + </p> + <p> + He gave the poor, afflicted liar tenderly into the care of the upper + housemaid, and retraced his steps quickly to the drawing-room. As he + entered it he heard Sir Tiglath saying,— + </p> + <p> + “The stars in their courses tremble when the accursed name of Malkiel is + mentioned, and the old astronomer is dissolved in wrath at sound of the + pernicious word. Oh-h-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + “There, Hennessey!” cried Mrs. Merillia, turning swiftly to her grandson + with all her cap ribands fluttering. “You hear what Sir Tiglath says?” + </p> + <p> + “If that accursed name belonged to an individual,” continued the + astronomer, waving his hands frantically over the last remaining crumpet, + “instead of representing a syndicate of ruffianly underground criminals, + the old astronomer, well stricken in years though he be, would hunt him + out of his hiding-place and slay him with his own feeble and scientific + hands.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he grasped the crumpet as if it had been an assegai, and + assailed himself with it so violently that it entirely disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “But Malkiel is an—” began Mrs. Merillia. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet stopped her with a glance, whose almost terror-stricken + authority surprised her into silence. + </p> + <p> + “But I thought Malkiel was a man,” cried Lady Enid, looking towards the + Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “He—for I will not foul my lips with the accursed name—is not + a man,” roared Sir Tiglath. “He is a syndicate. He is a company. He meets + together, doubtless, in some low den of the city. He reads reports to + himself of the ill-gotten gains accruing from his repeated insults to the + heavens round some abominable table covered with green cloth. He quotes + the prices of the shares in him, and declares dividends, and carries + balances forward, and some day will wind himself up or cast himself anew + upon the mercy of the market. Part of him is probably Jew, part South + African and part America. The whole of him is thrice accursed.” + </p> + <p> + He began to expand once more, but Mrs. Merillia perceived the tendency and + checked it in time. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, Sir Tiglath,” she said almost severely, “don’t. With my sprained + ankle I am really not equal to it.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath had enough chivalry to stop, and Lady Enid once again chipped + in. + </p> + <p> + “But, really, I’m almost sure Malkiel is a—” + </p> + <p> + She caught the Prophet’s eye, as Mrs. Merillia had, and paused. He turned + to the astronomer. + </p> + <p> + “But how can a company make itself into a prophet?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Young man, you talk idly! What are companies formed for if not to make + profits?” retorted Sir Tiglath. “Every one is a company nowadays. Don’t + you know that? Murchison, the famous writer of novels, is a company. + Jeremy, the actor-manager, is a company. So is Bynion the quack doctor, + and the Rev. Mr. Kinnimer who supplies tracts to the upper classes, and + Upton the artist, whose pictures make tours like Sarah Bernhardt, and + Watkins, whose philosophy sells more than Tupper’s, and Caroline Jingo, + who writes war poems and patriotic odes. If you were to invite these + supposed seven persons to dinner, and all of them came, you would have to + lay covers for at least fifty scoundrels. Oh-h-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but how are you sure that—ahem—the <i>Almanac</i> + person is also plural, Sir Tiglath?” inquired Mrs. Merillia. + </p> + <p> + “Because I sought him with the firm intention of assault and battery for + five-and-forty years,” returned the astronomer. “And only gave up my + Christian quest when I was assured, on excellent authority, that he was a + company, and had originally been formed in the United States for the + making of money and the defiance of the heavenly bodies. May bulls and + bears destroy him!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s very odd,” said Lady Enid. “Very odd indeed.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke she glanced at the Prophet and met his eyes. There are + moments when the mere expression in another person’s eyes seems to shout a + request at one. The expression in the Prophet’s eyes performed this feat + at this moment, with such abrupt vehemence, that Lady Enid felt almost + deafened. She leaned back in her chair, as if avoiding a missile, and + exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Of course! And I never guessed it!” + </p> + <p> + “Guessed what, my dear?” inquired Mrs. Merillia. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that—he—it—was a company,” replied Lady Enid. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet blessed and thanked her with a piercing and saved look. + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” he assented, descending into the very mine of subterfuge for his + recent oath’s sake, “nor I, or I should never have taken the useless + trouble that I have taken.” + </p> + <p> + He managed to say this with such conviction that his grandmother, who, in + the past, had always found him to be transparently honest and sincere, was + carried away by the deception. She wrinkled her long nose, as was her + habit when sincerely pleased, and cried gaily,— + </p> + <p> + “Then, Hennessey, now you’ve heard Sir Tiglath’s opinion of the practice + of trying to turn the stars into money-makers, and the planets into old + gipsy women who tell fortunes to silly servant girls, I’m sure you’ll + never study them again. Come, promise me!” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Hennessey,” cried his grandmother, with tender pertinacity, “promise me! + Sir Tiglath, join your voice to mine!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath had become really grave, not theatrically serious. + </p> + <p> + “Young man,” he said, “your revered granddam asks of you a righteous + thing. Who are you to trifle with those shining worlds that make a beauty + of the night and that stir eternity in the soul of man? Who are you to + glue your pinpoint of a human eye to yonder machine and play with the + stupendous Jupiter and Saturn as a child plays with marbles or with + peg-tops? Who are you that thinks those glittering monsters have nothing + to do but to inform your pigmy brain of snowfalls, street accidents, and + love-affairs prematurely, so that you may flaunt about your + pocket-handkerchief of a square pluming your dwarfship that you are a + prophet? Fie, young man, and again fie! Bow the knee, as I do, to the + mysteries of the great universal scheme, instead of bothering them to turn + informers and ‘give away’ the knowledge which is deliberately hidden from + us. Show me a man that can understand the present and you’ll have shown me + a god. And yet you knock at the gates of the heavens through that + telescope and clamour to be told the future! Fie upon you, young man, fie! + Oh-h-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + Now the Prophet, as has been before observed, possessed a very sensitive + nature. He was also very devoted to his grandmother, and had an + extraordinary reverence for the world-famed attainments of Sir Tiglath + Butt. Therefore, when he heard Mrs. Merillia’s pleading, and the + astronomer’s weighty denunciation, he was deeply moved. Nevertheless, so + strongly had recent events appealed to his curiosity, so ardently did he + desire to search into the reality of his own peculiar powers, that it is + very doubtful whether he might not have withstood both the behests of + affection and of admiration had it not been that they took to themselves + an ally, whose force is one of the moving spirits of the world. This ally + was fear. Just as the Prophet was beginning to feel obstinate and to steel + himself to resistance, he remembered the fierce and horrible threats of + Malkiel the Second. If he should cease to concern himself with the stars, + if he should cease to prophesy, not alone should he restore peace to his + beloved grandmother, and pay the tribute of respect to Sir Tiglath, but he + should do more. He should preserve his quick from being searched and his + core from being probed. His marrow, too, would be rescued from the + piercing it had been so devoutly promised. The dread, by which he was now + companioned—of Malkiel, of that portentous and unseen lady who dwelt + beside the secret waters of the Mouse, of those imagined offshoots of the + prophetic tree, Corona and Capricornus—this would drop away. He + would be free once more, light-hearted, a happy and mildly intellectual + man of the town, emerged from the thrall of bogies, and from beneath the + yoke which he already felt laid upon his shoulders by those august + creatures who were the centre of the architectural circle. + </p> + <p> + All these things suddenly presented themselves to the Prophet’s mind with + extraordinary vividness and force. His resolve was taken in a moment, and, + turning to his eager grandmother and to the still slightly inflated + astronomer, he exclaimed without further hesitation,— + </p> + <p> + “Very well. I’ll give it up. I promise you.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia clapped her mittens together almost like a girl. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Sir Tiglath,” she cried. “I knew you would persuade the dear + boy.” + </p> + <p> + The astronomer beamed like the rising sun. + </p> + <p> + “Let the morning stars—freed from insult—sing together!” he + roared. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet glanced towards Lady Enid. She was looking almost narrow and + not at all pleased. She, and all her family, had a habit of suddenly + appearing thinner than usual when they were put out. This habit had + descended to them from a remote Highland ancestor, who had perished of + starvation and been very vexed about it. The Prophet felt sure that she + did not applaud his resolution, but he could not discuss the matter with + her in public, and she now got up—looking almost like a skeleton—and + said that she must go. Sir Tiglath immediately rolled up out of his chair + and roared that he would accompany her. + </p> + <p> + “The old astronomer will protect the injudicious young female,” he + exclaimed, “lest she wander forth into accursed places.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m only going to Hill Street,” said Lady Enid, rather snappishly. “Come + to see me to-morrow at three,” she whispered to the Prophet as she took + his hand. “We must have a talk. Don’t tell anybody!” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet nodded surreptitiously. He felt that she was curious to her + finger-tips as he gently pressed them. + </p> + <p> + When he and his grandmother were alone together he rang the drawing-room + bell. Mr. Ferdinand appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ferdinand,” said the Prophet, “kindly call Gustavus to your aid and + take away the telescope.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” said Mr. Ferdinand in great astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Take away the telescope.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir. Where shall we place it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere,” said the Prophet. “In the pantry—the square—in + Piccadilly if you like—it’s all the same to me.” + </p> + <p> + And, unable to trust himself to say more, he hurried almost tumultuously + from the room. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s a go, Gustavus,” remarked Mr. Ferdinand a moment later as he + entered the servants’ hall. + </p> + <p> + “Where, Mr. Ferdinand?” replied Gustavus, glancing up from a dish of tea + and a couple of Worthing shrimps with which he was solacing an idle + moment. + </p> + <p> + “Here, in this mansion, Gustavus. Me and you’ve got to take the telescope + out of the drawing-room, and Master Hennessey says if we wish we can chuck + it in Piccadilly.” + </p> + <p> + The round eyes of Gustavus brightened. + </p> + <p> + “That is my wish, Mr. Ferdinand,” he exclaimed. “Here’s a lark!” + </p> + <p> + He sprang up. But Mr. Ferdinand checked his very agreeable vivacity. + </p> + <p> + “I am your head, Gustavus,” he remarked, with severe ambiguity, “and + master having also said that, if we wish, we can set the instrument in the + butler’s pantry, I have decided that so it shall moreover be. It will be + very useful to us there.” + </p> + <p> + “Useful, Mr. Ferdinand! However—?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Gustavus, never mind,” replied Mr. Ferdinand with some + acrimony. + </p> + <p> + Being of a dignified nature he did not care to explain to a subordinate + that there was a very pleasant-looking second-cook just arrived at the + house of the Lord Chancellor on the opposite side of the square. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <h3> + THE DOUBLE LIFE OF MISS MINERVA + </h3> + <p> + On the following day, just as the Prophet was drawing on a new pair of + suede gloves preparatory to setting out to Hill Street, Gustavus entered + with a silver salver. + </p> + <p> + “A telegram for you, sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet took the blushing envelope, ripped it gently open, and read as + follows:— + </p> + <p> + “Madame and self must confer with you this afternoon without fail. Shall + be with you five sharp; most important. + </p> + <p> + “JUPITER SAGITTARIUS.” + </p> + <p> + Gustavus nearly dropped at sight of the wrinkles that seamed the Prophet’s + usually smooth face as he grasped the full meaning of this portentous + missive. + </p> + <p> + “Any answer, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The wrinkles increased and multiplied. + </p> + <p> + “Any reply, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “What—no.” + </p> + <p> + Gustavus glided in a well-trained manner towards the door. When he got + there the Prophet cried, rather sharply,— + </p> + <p> + “Stop a moment!” + </p> + <p> + Gustavus stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “The—I—er—I am expecting a—a—couple this + afternoon,” began the Prophet, speaking with considerable hesitation, and + still gazing, in a hypnotised manner, at the telegram. + </p> + <p> + “A couple, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. A pair.” + </p> + <p> + “A pair, sir? Of horses, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Horses! No—of people, that is, persons.” + </p> + <p> + “A pair of persons, sir. Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “They should arrive towards five o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “If I should not be home by that time you will show them very quietly into + my library—not the drawing-room. Mrs. Merillia is not at present + equal to receiving ordinary guests.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet meant extraordinary, but he preferred to put it the other way. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. What name, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. and Mrs.—that is, Madame Sagittarius. That will do.” + </p> + <p> + Gustavus hastened to the servants’ hall to discuss the situation, while + the Prophet stood re-reading the telegram with an expression of shattered + dismay. Not for at least five minutes did he recover himself sufficiently + to remember his appointment with Lady Enid, and, when at length he set + forth to Hill Street, he was so painfully preoccupied that he walked three + times completely round the square before he discovered the outlet into + that fashionable thoroughfare. + </p> + <p> + When he reached the dark green mansion of Lady Enid’s worthy father, the + Marquis of Glome, and had applied the bronze demon that served as a + knocker four separate times to the door, he was still so lost in thought + that he started violently on the appearance of the Scotch retainer at the + portal, and behaved for a moment as if he were considering which of two + courses he should pursue: <i>i.e.</i>, whether he should clamber + frantically into the seclusion of the area, or take boldly to the open + street. Before he could do either M’Allister, the retainer, had magnetised + him into the hall, relieved him of his hat—almost with the seductive + adroitness of a Drury Lane thief—and drawn him down a tartan passage + into a very sensible-looking boudoir, in which Lady Enid was sitting by a + wood fire with a very tall and lusty young man. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hennessey Vivian!” + </p> + <p> + “What, Bob—you here!” said the Prophet to the lusty young man, after + shaking hands a little distractedly with Lady Enid. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, old chap. But I’m just off. I know you two want to have a confab,” + returned Mr. Robert Green, wringing his old school friend’s hand. “Niddy’s + given me the chuck. And anyhow I’m bound to look in at the Bath Club at + four to fence with Chicky Bostock.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green spoke in a powerful baritone voice, rolling his r’s, and showing + his large and square white teeth in a perpetual cheery and even boisterous + smile. He was what is called a thorough good fellow, springy in body and + essentially gay in soul. That he was of a slightly belated temperament + will be readily understood when we say that he was at this time just + beginning to whistle, with fair correctness, “Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,” to + discuss the character of Becky Sharp, to dwell upon the remarkable promise + as a vocalist shown by Madame Adelina Patti, and to wonder at the + marvellous results said to be accomplished by the telephone. He had also + never heard of Christian Science, and was totally unaware that there + exists in the metropolis a modest and retiring building called “The + Imperial Institute.” Nevertheless, he was repeatedly spoken of by + substantial people as a young man of many parts, was a leading spirit in + Yeomanry circles, and was greatly regarded by the Prophet as a trusty + friend and stalwart upholder of the British Empire. He had rather the + appearance of a bulwark, and something of the demeanour of a flourishing + young oak tree. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Bob, you’ve got to go,” assented Lady Enid, examining the Prophet’s + slightly distorted countenance with frank, and even eager, curiosity. “Mr. + Vivian and I are going to talk of modern things.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, Thackeray and Patti, and three-volume novels, and skirt dancing, + and all the rest of it,” said Mr. Green, with unaffected reverence. “Well, + I’m off. I say, Hen, pop in at the Bath on your way home and have a + whiskey and soda. I shall just be out of the hot room and—” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry, Bob,” said the Prophet with almost terrible solemnity, “that I + can’t, that—in fact—I am unable.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Going to the dentist?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly—that is, not at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what’s up? Some intellectual business, lecture on Walter Scott, or + Dickens, or one of the other Johnnies that are so popular just now?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I have a—a small gathering at home this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “All right. Then I’ll pop round on you—say five o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Bob, no, I can’t say that. I’m very sorry, but I can’t possibly say + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are. Too clever for me, I s’pose. Look me up at the Tintack + to-night then—any time after ten.” + </p> + <p> + “If I can, Bob, I will,” replied the Prophet, with impressive uncertainty, + “I say if I can I will do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Done! If you can’t, then I’m not to expect you. That it?” + </p> + <p> + “That is it—precisely.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Niddy, old girl. Keep your pecker up. By the way, if you want a + real good tune for a Charity sing-song, a real rouser, try ‘Nancy Lee.’” + </p> + <p> + He was gone, humming vigorously that new-fangled favourite. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Mr. Vivian,” said Lady Enid, looking her right size. “We’ve got + a lot to say to one another.” + </p> + <p> + “I have to be home at five,” replied the Prophet, abstractedly. + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid begin to appear a trifle thin. + </p> + <p> + “Why? How tiresome! I didn’t think you really meant it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very, very tiresome.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with marked uneasiness, and remained standing with the air of one + in readiness for the punctual call of the hangman. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” continued Lady Enid, with her usual inquisitiveness. + </p> + <p> + “I have, as I said, a—a small gathering at home at that hour,” said + the Prophet, repeating his formula morosely. + </p> + <p> + “A gathering—what of?” + </p> + <p> + “People—persons, that is.” + </p> + <p> + “What—a party?” + </p> + <p> + “Two parties,” replied the Prophet, instinctively giving Mr. Sagittarius + and Madame their undoubted due. “Two.” + </p> + <p> + “Two parties at the same time—and in the afternoon! How very odd!” + </p> + <p> + “They will look very odd, very—in Berkeley Square,” responded the + Prophet, in a tone of considerable dejection. “I don’t know, I’m sure, + what Mr. Ferdinand and Gustavus will think. Still I’ve given strict orders + that they are to be let in. What else could I do?” + </p> + <p> + He gazed at Lady Enid in a demanding manner. + </p> + <p> + “What else could I possibly do under the circumstances?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, dear Mr. Vivian,” she answered, with her peculiar Scotch lassie + seductiveness, “and tell me, your sincere friend, what the circumstances + are.” + </p> + <p> + Unluckily her curiosity had led her to overdo persuasion. That cooing + interpolation of “your sincere friend”—too strongly honeyed—suddenly + recalled the Prophet to the fact that Lady Enid was not, and could never + be, his confidante in the matter that obsessed him. He therefore sat down, + but with an abrupt air of indefinite social liveliness, and exclaimed, not + unlike Mr. Robert Green,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, and how are things going with you, dear Lady Enid?” + </p> + <p> + She jumped under the transition as under a whip. + </p> + <p> + “Me! But—these parties you were telling me about?” + </p> + <p> + But the Prophet remembered his oath. He was a strictly honourable little + man, and never swore carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Parties!” he said. “You and I are too old friends to waste our life in + chattering about such London nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we’ll talk of yesterday,” said Lady Enid, very firmly. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet looked rather blank. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she repeated. “Yesterday. I’ve guessed your secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Which one?” he cried, much startled. + </p> + <p> + “Which?” she said reproachfully. “Oh, Mr. Vivian—and I thought you + trusted in me.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet was silent. The third daughter of the clergyman had often made + that remark to him when they were nearly engaged. It recalled bygone + memories. + </p> + <p> + “That’s what I thought,” she added with pressure. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry,” the Prophet murmured, rather obstinately. + </p> + <p> + “I always think,” she continued, with deliberate expansiveness, “that + nearly all the miseries of the world come about from people not trusting + in—in people.” + </p> + <p> + “Or from people trusting in the wrong people. Which is it?” said the + Prophet, not without slyness. + </p> + <p> + She began to look thin, but checked herself. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she said, “why did you stop me yesterday when I was beginning + to say to Sir Tiglath that I was sure Malkiel was a man and not a + syndicate?” + </p> + <p> + “Did I stop you?” said the Prophet, artlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, with your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Because—because I was sure—that is, certain you couldn’t be + sure.” + </p> + <p> + “How could you be certain?” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, how is one certain of anything?” said the Prophet, rather feebly. + </p> + <p> + “How are you certain that I’m Miss Minerva Partridge?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you told me so yourself, because I’ve seen you come into + Jellybrand’s for your letters, because—” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t I seen Malkiel come into Jellybrand’s for his?” + </p> + <p> + This unexpected retort threw the Prophet upon his beam ends. But he + remembered his oath even in that very awkward position. + </p> + <p> + “Does he go to Jellybrand’s?” he exclaimed, with a wild attempt after + astonishment. “But he’s a company—Sir Tiglath said so.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did your eyes say yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + “I had a cold in my eyes yesterday,” said the Prophet. “They were very + weak. They were—they were aching.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid was silent for a moment. During that moment she was conferring + with her feminine instinct. What it said to her must be guessed by the + manner in which she once more entered into conversation with the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vivian,” she said, with a complete change of demeanour to girlish + geniality and impulsiveness, “I’m going to confide in you. I’m going to + thrown myself upon your mercy.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet blinked with amazement, like a martyr who suddenly finds + himself snatched from the rack and laid upon a plush divan with a satin + cushion under his head. + </p> + <p> + “I’m going to trust you,” Lady Enid went on, emphasising the two pronouns. + </p> + <p> + “Many thanks,” said the Prophet, unoriginally. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting on a square piece of furniture which the Marquis of Glome + called an “Aberdeen lean-to.” She now spread herself out upon it in the + easy attitude of one who is about to converse intimately for some + centuries, and proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “I daresay you know, Mr. Vivian, that people always call me a very + sensible sort of girl.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet remembered his grandmother’s remark about Lady Enid. + </p> + <p> + “I know they do,” he assented, trying not to think of five o’clock. + </p> + <p> + “What do they mean by that, Mr. Vivian?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon?” + </p> + <p> + “I say what do they mean by a sensible sort of girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I suppose—” + </p> + <p> + “I’m going to tell you,” she interrupted him. “They mean a sort of girl + who likes fresh air, washes her face with yellow soap, sports dogskin + gloves, drives in an open cart in preference to a shut brougham, enjoys a + cold tub and Whyte Melville’s novels, laughs at ghosts and cries over + ‘Misunderstood,’ considers the Bishop of London a deity and the Albert + Memorial a gem of art, would wear a neat Royal fringe in her grave, and a + straw hat and shirt on the Judgment Day if she were in the country for it—walks + with the guns, sings ‘Home, Sweet Home’ in the evening after dinner to her + bald-headed father, thinks the <i>Daily Mail</i> an intellectual paper, + the Royal Academy an uplifting institution, the British officer a demi-god + with a heart of gold in a body of steel, and the road from Calais to Paris + the way to heaven. That’s what they mean by a sensible sort of girl, isn’t + it?” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay it is,” said the Prophet, endeavouring not to feel as if he + were sitting with a dozen or two of very practised stump orators. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and that’s what they think I am.” + </p> + <p> + “And aren’t you?” inquired the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid drew herself upon the Aberdeen lean-to. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said decisively, “I’m not. I’m a Miss Minerva Partridge.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but what is that?” asked the Prophet, with all the air of a man + inquiring about some savage race. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the secret—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I beg your pardon!” + </p> + <p> + “That I’m going to tell you now, because I trust you—” + </p> + <p> + Again the pronouns were emphasised, and the Prophet thought how difficult + it would be to keep his oath. + </p> + <p> + “And because I know now that you’re silly too.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet jumped, though not for joy. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been Miss Minerva Partridge for—wait a moment, I must look.” + </p> + <p> + She got up, went to a writing table, opened a drawer in it, and took out a + large red book and turned its leaves. + </p> + <p> + “My diary,” she explained. “It’s foolish to keep one, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + Her intonation so obviously called for an affirmative that the Prophet + felt constrained to reply,— + </p> + <p> + “Very foolish indeed.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “I’m so glad you think so. Ah—exactly a year and a half.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve been Miss Minerva Partridge?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “So long as that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed. Mr. Vivian, during that time I have been leading a double + life.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet remembered the other double life beside the borders of the + River Mouse, and began to wonder if he were acquainted with any human + being who led a single one. + </p> + <p> + “Many people do that,” he remarked rather aimlessly. + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid looked vexed. + </p> + <p> + “I did not say I had a monopoly of the commodity,” she rejoined, evidently + wishing that she had. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said the Prophet, making things worse; “one meets people who + live double lives every day, I might almost say every hour.” + </p> + <p> + The clock had just struck four, and he had begun to think of five. Lady + Enid’s pleasant plumpness began rapidly to disappear. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say I do,” she said sharply, feeling that most of the gilt was + being stripped off her sin. + </p> + <p> + She stopped in such obvious dissatisfaction that the Prophet, vaguely + aware that he had made some mistake, said,— + </p> + <p> + “Please go on. I am so interested. Why have you led a double life for the + last week and a half?” + </p> + <p> + “Year and a half, I said.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean year and a half.” + </p> + <p> + He forced his mobile features to assume a fixed expression of greedy, + though rather too constant, curiosity. Lady Enid brightened up. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vivian,” she said, “many girls are born sensible-looking without + wishing it.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they really? It never occurred to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Such things very seldom do occur to men. Now that places these girls in a + very painful position. I was placed in this position as soon as I was + born, or at least as soon as I began to look like anything at all. For + babies really don’t.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s very true,” assented the Prophet, with more fervour. + </p> + <p> + “People continually said to me, ‘What a nice sensible girl you are’; or—‘One + always feels your Common sense’; or—‘There’s nothing foolish about + you, Enid, thank Heaven!’ The Chieftain relied upon me thoroughly. So did + the tenants. So did everybody. You can understand that it became very + trying?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s something to do with the shape of my eyebrows, the colour of my + hair, the way I smile and that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vivian, I’ll tell you now, that I’ve never felt sensible in all my + life.” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” ejaculated the Prophet, still firmly holding all his features + together in an unyielding expression of fixed curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Never once, however great the provocation. And in my family, with the + Chieftain, the provocation you can understand is exceptionally great.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis of Glome, who was the head of a clan called “The MacArdells,” + was always named the Chieftain by his relations and friends. + </p> + <p> + “I felt sure it must be,” said the Prophet, decisively. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless it is so extremely difficult, if not impossible, not to try + to be what people take you for that I was in a perpetual condition of + acting sensibly, against my true nature.” + </p> + <p> + “How very trying!” murmured the Prophet, mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “It was, Mr. Vivian. It often made me fell quite ill. Nobody but you knows + how I have suffered.” + </p> + <p> + “And why do I know?” inquired the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Because I realised yesterday that you must be almost as silly by nature + as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday—why? When?” + </p> + <p> + “When you said to Sir Tiglath that you could prophesy.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet stiffened. She laughed almost affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “So absurd! But I was vexed when you said you’d give it up. You mustn’t do + that, or you’ll be flying in the face of your own folly.” + </p> + <p> + She drew the Aberdeen lean-to, which ran easily on Edinburgh castors, a + little nearer to him, and continued. + </p> + <p> + “At least I felt obliged to seek an outlet. I could not stifle my real + self for ever, and yet I could not be comfortably silly with those who + were absolutely convinced of my permanent good sense. I tried to be + several times. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you succeed?” + </p> + <p> + “Not once.” + </p> + <p> + “Tch! Tch!” + </p> + <p> + “So at last I was driven to the double life.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your coachman knows?” + </p> + <p> + “MacSpillan! No! I took a cab—a four-wheeler—at the corner of + the Square, and the name of Minerva Partridge. It’s a silly name, isn’t + it?” + </p> + <p> + She asked the question with earnest anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Quite idiotic,” said the Prophet, reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “I felt quite sure it was,” she cried, obviously comforted. “Because it + came to me so inevitably. I was so perfectly natural—and alone—when + I invented it. No one helped me.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you,” reiterated the Prophet, “there is no doubt the name is + absolutely and entirely idiotic.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, dear Mr. Vivian! What a pleasure it is to talk to you! Under + this name I have, for a year and a half, led an idiotic life, such a life + as really suits me, such a life as is in complete accord with my true + nature. Oh, the joy of it! The sense of freedom! If only all other silly + girls who look sensible like me had the courage to do what I have done!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a pity!” said the Prophet, in assent, beginning to be genuinely + moved by the obvious sincerity of this human being’s bent towards folly. + “But what have you done during this year and a half of truth and freedom?” + </p> + <p> + “More foolish things than many crowd into a lifetime,” she cried + ecstatically. “It would take me days to tell you of half of them!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then you mustn’t,” said the Prophet, glancing furtively at the clock. + “Had you come out to be silly yesterday afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I had—to be sillier even than usual. And if it hadn’t been for + Sir Tiglath catching sight of me in the avenue, and then—Mr. + Sagittarius and you being in the parlour—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” she said, in her usual tone of breezy common sense, “were + you living a double life in the parlour?” + </p> + <p> + “I!” said the Prophet. “Oh, no, not at all. I never do anything of that + kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite certain.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re not going to?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. Nothing would induce me.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, as if unconvinced, raising her dark, sensible eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “All Jellybrand’s clients do,” she said. “And I’m certain Mr. Sagittarius—” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you,” said the Prophet, with the heavy earnestness of absolute + insincerity, “Mr. Sagittarius is the most single lived man I ever met, the + very most. But why did Sir Tiglath, that is, why did you—?” + </p> + <p> + “Try to avoid him? Well—” + </p> + <p> + For the first time she hesitated, and began to look slightly confused. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she repeated, “Sir Tiglath is a very strange, peculiar old man.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet thought that if the young librarian had been present he would + have eliminated the second adjective. + </p> + <p> + “Peculiar! Yes, he is. His appearance, his manner—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t mean that.” + </p> + <p> + “No?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Lots of elderly men have purple faces, turned legs and roaring + voices. You must know that. Sir Tiglath is peculiar in this way—he + is quite elderly and yet he’s not in the least little bit silly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “He’s a thoroughly sensible old man, the only one I ever met.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father?” + </p> + <p> + “The Chieftain can be very foolish at times. That’s why he’s always relied + so on me.” + </p> + <p> + She gave this proof triumphantly. The Prophet felt bound to accept it. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Tiglath is really, as an old man, what everybody thinks I am, as a + young woman. D’you see?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean?” + </p> + <p> + “The opposite of me. And in this way too. While I hide my silliness under + my eyebrows, and hair, and smile, and manner, he hides his sensibleness + under his. When people meet me they always think—what a common-sense + young woman! When they meet him they always think—what a + preposterous old man!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but then,” cried the Prophet, struck by a sudden idea, “if that is + so, how can you live a double life as Miss Minerva Partridge? You can’t + change your eyebrows with your name!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you don’t know women!” she murmured. “No, but you see I begin at + once.” + </p> + <p> + “Begin?” + </p> + <p> + “Being silly. All the people who know me as Miss Partridge know I’m an + absurd person in spite of my looks. I’ve proved it to them by my actions. + I’ve begun at once before they could have time to judge by my appearance. + I’ve told them instantly that I’m a Christian Scientist, and a believer in + the value of tight-lacing and in ghosts, an anti-vaccinator, a Fabian, a + member of ‘The Masculine Club,’ a ‘spirit,’ a friend of Mahatmas, an + intimate of the ‘Rational Dress’ set—you know, who wear things like + half inflated balloons in Piccadilly—a vegetarian, a follower of + Mrs. Besant, a drinker of hop bitters and Zozophine, a Jacobite, a hater + of false hair and of all collective action to stamp out hydrophobia, a + stamp-collector, an engager of lady-helps instead of servants, an amateur + reciter and skirt dancer, an owner of a lock of Paderewski’s hair—torn + fresh from the head personally at a concert—an admirer of George + Bernard Shaw as a thinker but a hater of him as a humourist, a rationalist + and reader of <i>Punch</i>, an atheist and table-turner, a friend of all + who think that women don’t desire to be slaves, a homoeopathist and + Sandowite, an enemy of babies—as if all women didn’t worship them!—a + lover of cats—as if all women didn’t hate one another!—a—” + </p> + <p> + “One—one moment!” gasped the Prophet at this juncture. “Many of + these views are surely in opposition, in direct opposition to each other.” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay. That doesn’t matter in the least to a real silly woman such as + I am.” + </p> + <p> + “And then you said that you proved by your actions instantly that—” + </p> + <p> + “So I did. I caught up a happy dog in the street, cried over its agony, + unmuzzled it and allowed it to add its little contribution to the joy of + life by mangling a passing archdeacon. I sat on the floor and handled + snakes. I wore my hair parted on one side and smoked a cigarette in a + chiffon gown. I refused food in a public restaurant because it had been + cooked by a Frenchman. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! Enough!” cried the Prophet. “I understand. You forced Miss + Partridge’s acquaintances to believe in Miss Partridge’s folly. But who + were these acquaintances?” + </p> + <p> + “It would take me hours to tell you. First there was—” + </p> + <p> + “I really have to go at five.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’ll finish about Sir Tiglath. He’s an utterly sensible old man, and + so is different from all other old men, for you know human folly increases + enormously with age. Isn’t that lovely? Now, Mr. Vivian, Sir Tiglath + admires me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “I know. You think that proves him the contrary of what I’ve said.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all!” exclaimed the Prophet, with frenzied courtesy, “not at all!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you do. But you’re wrong. He doesn’t exactly admire my character, + but he likes me because I’m tall, and have pleasant coloured eyes, and + thick hair, and walk well, and know that he’s really an unusually sensible + old man.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is that it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But now, if he could be made to think that I really am what I look + like—a thoroughly sensible young woman, he would more than admire + me, he would adore me.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you wish him to?” asked the Prophet in blank amazement. + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “The Miss Minerva part of me desires it.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He’s got to do one or two things for Miss Minerva without knowing + that I’m Miss Minerva. That is why I bolted into the parlour yesterday. + Just as I was stepping into Jellybrand’s I happened to see Sir Tiglath and + he happened to think he saw me.” + </p> + <p> + “Only to think?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He is not certain. I saw that by the expression of his face. He was + wondering whether I was me—or is it I?—or not. I didn’t give + him time to be certain. I rushed into the parlour.” + </p> + <p> + “You did.” + </p> + <p> + “So it’s all right. Frederick Smith would never betray a client.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “Never; so I’m saved. For Sir Tiglath isn’t certain even now. I found that + out on the way home with him last night. And an old man who’s uncertain of + the truth can soon be made certain of the lie, by a young woman he + admires, however sensible he is. And now I’ll tell you part of what I want + Sir Tiglath to do for Miss Minerva—” + </p> + <p> + But at this moment the clock struck five, and the Prophet bounded up with + hysterical activity, and hastily took his leave, promising to call again + and hear more on the following day. + </p> + <p> + “And tell more,” thought Lady Enid to herself as the door of the + sensible-looking boudoir shut behind him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE PROPHET RECEIVES HIS DIRECTIONS FROM MADAME + </h3> + <p> + When the Prophet reached his door he rang the bell with a rather faltering + hand. Mr. Ferdinand appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Any one called, Mr. Ferdinand?” asked the Prophet with an attempt at airy + gaiety. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied Mr. Ferdinand, looking rather like an elderly maiden + lady when she unexpectedly encounters her cook taking an airing with a + corporal in the Life Guards, “the pair of persons you expected, sir, has + come.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet blushed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! You—you haven’t disturbed Mrs. Merillia with them, I hope,” he + rejoined. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, indeed. Gustavus said your orders was that they was to be shown + quietly to the library.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “I begged them to walk a-tiptoe, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” ejaculated the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “I informed them there was illness in the house, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And did they—er—?” + </p> + <p> + “The male person got on his toes at once, sir, but the female person + shrieks out, ‘Is it catching? Ho! Think of—of Capericornopus,’ sir, + or something to that effect.” + </p> + <p> + “Tch! Tch!” + </p> + <p> + “I took the liberty to say, sir, that ankles was not catching, and that I + would certainly think of Capericornopus if she would but walk a-tiptoe.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and—” + </p> + <p> + “By hook and cook I got them to the library, sir. But the male person’s + boots creaked awful. The getting on his toes, sir seemed to induce it, as + you might say.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. So they’re in the library?” + </p> + <p> + “They are, sir, and have been talking incessant, sir, ever since they was + put there. We can hear their voices in our hall, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand again pursed his lips and looked like an elderly lady. The + Prophet could no longer meet his eye. + </p> + <p> + “Bring some tea, Mr. Ferdinand, quietly to the library. And—and if + Mrs. Merillia should ask for me say I’m—say I’m busy—er—writing.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand moved a step backward. + </p> + <p> + “Master Hennessey!” he cried in a choked voice. “I, a London butler, and + you ask me to—!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I beg your pardon, Mr. Ferdinand. Simply say I’m busy. That will + be quite true. I shall be—very busy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Mr. Ferdinand with a stern and at length successful + effort to conquer his outraged feelings. + </p> + <p> + He wavered heavily away to fetch the tea, while the Prophet, like a guilty + thing, stole towards the library. When he drew near to the door he heard a + somewhat resounding hubbub of conversation proceeding within the chamber. + He distinguished two voices. One was the hollow and sepulchral organ of + Malkiel the Second, the other was a heavy and authoritative contralto, of + the buzzing variety, which occasionally gave an almost professional click—suggesting + mechanism—as the speaker passed from the lower to the upper register + of her voice. As the Prophet reached the mat outside the door he heard the + contralto voice say,— + </p> + <p> + “How are we to know it really is only ankles?” + </p> + <p> + The voice of Malkiel the Second replied plaintively,— + </p> + <p> + “But the gentleman who opened the door and—” + </p> + <p> + The contralto voice clicked, and passed to its upper register. + </p> + <p> + “You are over fifty years of age,” it said with devastating compassion, + “and you can still trust a gentleman who opens doors! <i>O sanctum + simplicitatus!</i>” + </p> + <p> + On hearing this sudden gush of classical erudition the Prophet must have + been seized by a paralysing awe, for he remained as if glued to the mat, + and made no effort to open the door and step into the room. + </p> + <p> + “If I am sanctified, Sophronia,” said the voice of Malkiel, “I cannot help + it, indeed I can’t. We are as we are.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Bottom say so in his epics?” cried the contralto, contemptuously. + “Did Shakespeare imply that when he invented his immortal Bacon, or + Carlyle, the great Cumberland sage, when he penned his world-famed + ‘Sartus’?” + </p> + <p> + “P’r’aps not, my dear. You know best. Still, ordinary men—not that + I, of course, can claim to be one—must remain, to a certain extent, + what they are.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why was Samuel Smiles born?” + </p> + <p> + “What, my love?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I say? Where is the use of effort? Of what benefit was Plato’s + existence to the republic? Of what assistance has the great Tracy Tupper + been if men must still, despite all his proverbs, remain what they are? <i>O + curum hominibus! O imitatori! Servus pecum!</i>” + </p> + <p> + At this point the voice of Mr. Ferdinand remarked in the small of the + Prophet’s back,— + </p> + <p> + “Shall I set down the tea on the mat, sir, or—” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet bounded into the library, tingling in every vein. His + panther-like entrance evidently took the two conversationalists aback, for + Malkiel the Second, who had been plaintively promenading about the room, + still on his toes according to the behest of Mr. Ferdinand, sat down + violently on a small table as if he had been shot, while the contralto + voice, which had been sitting on a saddle-back chair by the hearth, + simultaneously bounced up; both these proceedings being carried out with + the frantic promptitude characteristic of complete and unhesitating + terror. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon!” said the Prophet. “I hope I haven’t disturbed you.” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel the Second leaned back, the contralto voice leaned forward, and + both breathed convulsively. + </p> + <p> + “I really must apologise,” continued the Prophet. “I fear I have startled + you.” + </p> + <p> + His guests swallowed nothing simultaneously and mechanically drew out + their handkerchiefs. Then Malkiel feebly got up and the contralto voice + feebly sank down again. + </p> + <p> + “I—I thought I said sharp, sir,” remarked Malkiel, at length, with a + great effort recovering himself. + </p> + <p> + “Wasn’t I sharp?” returned the Prophet. “Will you present me?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you equal to it, my love?” inquired Malkiel, tenderly, to the + contralto voice. + </p> + <p> + The contralto voice nodded hysterically. + </p> + <p> + “Madame Sagittarius, sir,” said Malkiel, turning proudly to the Prophet, + “my wife, the mother of Corona and Capricornus.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet bowed and the lady inclined herself, slightly protruding her + elbows as she did so, as if just to draw attention to the fact that she + was possessed of those appendages and could use them if necessary. + </p> + <p> + Madame Malkiel, or rather Madame Sagittarius, as she must for the present + be called, was a smallish woman of some forty winters. Her hair, which was + drawn away intellectually from an ample and decidedly convex brow, was as + black as a patent leather boot, and had a gloss upon it as of + carefully-adjusted varnish. Her eyes were very large, very dark and very + prominent. Her features were obstreperous and rippling, running from right + to left, and her teeth, which were shaded by a tiny black moustache, + gleamed in a manner that could scarcely be called natural. She was attired + in a black velvet gown trimmed with a very large quantity of beadwork, a + bonnet adorned with purple cherries, green tulips and orange-coloured + ostrich tips, a pelisse, to which bugles had been applied with no + uncertain hand, and an opal necklace. Her gloves were of white, her boots + of black kid, the latter being furnished with elastic sides, and over her + left wrist she carried a plush reticule, whose mouth was kept shut by a + tightly-drawn scarlet riband. On the left side of her pelisse reposed a + round bouquet of violets about the size of a Rugby football. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you might like to have some tea,” began the Prophet, in his + most soothing manner, while Mr. Ferdinand, with pursed lips, softly + arranged that beverage upon the seat which Mr. Sagittarius—so we + must call him—had just vacated. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Madame Sagittarius, with dignity. “It would be + acceptable. The long journey from the banks of the Mouse to these central + districts is not without its fatigue. A beautiful equipage!” + </p> + <p> + “You said—” + </p> + <p> + “You have a very fine equipage.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen the brougham?” said the Prophet, in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “What broom?” buzzed Madame Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were admiring—” + </p> + <p> + “The tea equipage.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, to be sure. Queen Anne silver, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “A great woman!” said Madame Sagittarius, spreading a silk handkerchief + that exactly matched the ostrich tips in her bonnet carefully over her + velvet lap. “All who have read Mrs. Markham’s work of genius with + understanding must hold her name in reverence. A noble creature! A pity + she died!” + </p> + <p> + “A great pity indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Still we must remember that <i>Mors omnis communibus</i>. We must not + forget that.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no.” + </p> + <p> + “And after all it is the will of Providence. <i>Mors Deo</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so.” + </p> + <p> + During this classical and historical retrospect Mr. Ferdinand had finished + his task and quitted the apartment. As soon as he had gone Madame + Sagittarius continued,— + </p> + <p> + “As the mother of Corona and Capricornus I feel it my duty to ask you, sir—that + is, Mr.—” + </p> + <p> + “Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vivian, whether the illness in your house is really only ankles as + the gentleman who opened the door assured me?” + </p> + <p> + “It is only that.” + </p> + <p> + “Not catching?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, no.” + </p> + <p> + “There, Sophronia!” said Mr. Sagittarius. “I told you it was merely the + prophecy.” + </p> + <p> + He suddenly assumed a formidable manner, and continued,— + </p> + <p> + “And now, sir, that we are alone—” + </p> + <p> + But Madame interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “Kindly permit our host to succour my fatigue, Jupiter,” she said + severely. “I am greatly upset by the journey. When I am restored we can + proceed to business. At present I am fit only for consolation.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius subsided, and the Prophet hastily assisted the victim of + prolonged travel to some buttered toast. Having also attended to the wants + of her precipitate underling, he thought it a good opportunity to proceed + to a full explanation with the august couple, and he therefore remarked, + with an ingratiating and almost tender smile,— + </p> + <p> + “I think I ought to tell you at once that there will be no need for any + further anxiety on your part. I have put down my telescope and have—well, + in fact, I have decided once and for all to give up prophecy for the + future.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet, in his innocence, had expected that this declaration of + policy would exercise a soothing influence upon his guests, more + especially when he added—it is to be feared with some insincerity,— + </p> + <p> + “I have come to the conclusion that I overrated my powers, as amateurs + will, you know, and that I have never really possessed any special talent + in that direction. I think I shall take up golf instead, or perhaps the + motor car.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke deliberately in a light-minded, even frivolous, manner, toying + airily with a sugar biscuit, as he leaned back in his chair, which stood + opposite to Madame Sagittarius’s. To his great surprise his well-meaning + remarks were received with every symptom of grave dissatisfaction by his + illustrious companions. Madame Sagittarius threw herself suddenly forward + with a most vivacious snort, and her husband’s face was immediately + overcast by a threatening gloom that seemed to portend some very + disagreeable expression of adverse humour. + </p> + <p> + “That won’t do, sir, at this time of day!” he exclaimed. “You should have + thought of that yesterday. That won’t do at all, will it, Madame?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>O miseris hominorum mentas</i>!” exclaimed that lady, tragically. “<i>O + pectorae caecae</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “You hear her, sir?” continued Mr. Sagittarius. “You grasp her meaning?” + </p> + <p> + “I do hear certainly,” said the Prophet, beginning to feel that he really + must rub up his classics. + </p> + <p> + “She helps Capricornus, sir, of an evening. She assists him in his Latin. + Madame is a lady of deep education, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so. But—” + </p> + <p> + “There can be no going back, sir,” continued Mr. Sagittarius. “Can there, + Madame?” + </p> + <p> + “No human creature can go back,” said Madame Sagittarius. “Such is the + natural law as exemplified by the great Charles Darwin in his <i>Vegetable + Mould and Silkworms</i>. No human creature can go back. Least of all this + gentleman. He must go forward and we with him.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet began to feel uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + “But—” he said. + </p> + <p> + “There is no such word as ‘but’ in my dictionary,” retorted the lady. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, an abridged edition, no doubt,” said the Prophet. “Still—” + </p> + <p> + “I am better now,” interposed Madame Sagittarius, brushing some crumbs of + toast from her pelisse with the orange handkerchief. “Jupiter, if you are + ready, we can explain the test to the gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + So saying she drew a vinaigrette, set with fine imitation carbuncles, from + the plush reticule, and applied it majestically to her nose. The Prophet + grew really perturbed. He remembered his promise to his grandmother and + Sir Tiglath, and felt that he must assert himself more strongly. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you,” he began, with some show of firmness, “no tests will be + necessary. My telescope has already been removed from its position, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Then it must be reinstated, sir,” said Mr. Sagittarius, “and this very + night. Madame has hit upon a plan, sir, of searching you to the quick. + Trust a woman, sir, to do that.” + </p> + <p> + “I should naturally trust Madame Sagittarius,” said the Prophet, very + politely. “But I really cannot—” + </p> + <p> + “So you say, sir. Our business is to find out whether, living in the + Berkeley Square as you do, you can bring off a prophecy of any importance + or not. The future of myself, Madame and family depends upon the results + of the experiments which we shall make upon you during the next few days.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet began to feel as if he were shut up alone with a couple of + determined practitioners of vivisection. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s see, my dear,” continued Mr. Sagittarius, addressing his wife, + “what was it to be?” + </p> + <p> + “The honored grandmother one,” replied the lady, tersely. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet started. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot possibly consent—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, Mr. Vivian, listen to me,” interposed Madame Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, sir, attend to Madame!” said Mr. Sagittarius, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “But I must really—” + </p> + <p> + “January,” said Madame, “is a month of grave importance to grandmothers + this year, is it not, Jupiter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear. In consequence of Scorpio being in the sign of Sagittarius. + The crab will be very busy up till the third of February.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so.” + </p> + <p> + “At which date the little dog, my love, assumes the roll of maleficence + towards the aged.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. <i>Cane cavem</i>. When was the old lady born, Mr. Vivian, if you + please?” + </p> + <p> + “What old lady?” stammered the Prophet, beginning to perspire. + </p> + <p> + “The old lady who’s got ankles, your honoured grandmother?” + </p> + <p> + “On the twentieth of this month. But—” + </p> + <p> + “At what time?” + </p> + <p> + “Six in the morning. But—” + </p> + <p> + “Under what star?” + </p> + <p> + “Saturn. But—” + </p> + <p> + “That’s lucky, isn’t it, Jupiter?” said Madame, in an increasingly + business-like manner. “That brings her into touch with the Camelopard—doesn’t + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Into very close touch indeed, my dear, and also with the bull. He goes + right to her, as you may say.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot conceivably permit—” began the Prophet in much agitation. + </p> + <p> + But Madame, without taking the smallest notice of him, proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “Will the scorpion be round her on her birthday?” + </p> + <p> + “Close round her, my love—with the serpent. They work together.” + </p> + <p> + “Together, do they? You know what effect they’ll have on her, don’t you, + Jupiter?” + </p> + <p> + “I should rather think so, my darling,” replied Mr. Sagittarius, with an + air of profound and sinister information. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet’s blood ran cold in his veins. Yet he felt for the moment + unable to utter a syllable, or even to make a gesture of protest. So + entirely detached from him did the worthy couple appear to be, so + completely wrapped up in their own evidently well-considered and + carefully-laid plans, that he had a sense of being in another sphere, not + theirs, of hearing their remarks from some distance off. Madame + Sagittarius now turned towards him in a formal manner, and continued. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Mr. Vivian, I shall have to lay down the procedure that you will + follow. Have you a good memory—no, a pencil and notebook will be + best. <i>Litterae scriptus manetur</i>, as we all know full well. Have you + a pencil and—?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet nodded mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “Will you kindly get them?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet rose, walked to his writing table and felt for the implements. + </p> + <p> + “If you will sit down now I will direct you,” continued Madame, + authoritatively. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet sat down at the table, holding a lead pencil upside down in + one hand and an account-book wrong side up in the other. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s see—what’s to-day?” inquired Madame, of her husband. + </p> + <p> + “The seventeenth, my dear,” replied Mr. Sagittarius, looking at his wife + with almost sickly adoration. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure. Capricornus’s day for Homer’s Idyl. Very well, Mr. Vivian, + to-day being the seventeenth, and the old lady’s birthday the twentieth, + you have three days, or rather nights, of steady work before you.” + </p> + <p> + “Steady work?” murmured the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “What should be his hours, Jupiter?” continued Madame. “At what time of + night is he to commence? Shall I say nine?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet remembered feebly that, during the next three nights, he had + two important dinner-engagements, a party at the Russian Ambassador’s, and + a reception at the Lord Chancellor’s just opposite. However, he made no + remark. Somehow he felt that words were useless when confronted with such + an iron will as that of the lady in the pelisse. + </p> + <p> + “Nine would be too early, my dear,” said Mr. Sagittarius. “Eleven p.m. + would be more to the purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Eleven let it be then, punctually. Will you dot down, Mr. Vivian, that + you have to be at the telescope to take observations at eleven p.m. every + night from now till the twentieth.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have had the telesc—” + </p> + <p> + “Kindly dot it down.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet dotted it down with the wrong end of the pencil on the wrong + side of the account-book. + </p> + <p> + “And what are his hours to be exactly, Jupiter?” continued Madame. “From + eleven till dawn, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Eleven till three will be sufficient, my love. The crab, you know, has + pretty well done his London work by that time. And the old lady will have + to depend very much on the crab for these few nights.” + </p> + <p> + At this point the Prophet’s brain began to swim. Sparks seemed to float + before his eyes, and amid these sparks, nebulous and fragmentary visions + appeared, visions of his beloved grandmother companioned by scorpions and + serpents, in close touch with camelopards and bovine monsters, and, in the + last stress of terror and dismay, left entirely dependent upon crustaceans + for that help and comfort which hitherto her devoted grandson had ever + been thankful to afford. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well,” replied Madame. “You will be able to get to bed at three, + Mr. Vivian. Dot that down.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” murmured the Prophet, making a minute pencil scratch in the + midst of a bill for butcher’s meat. + </p> + <p> + “During these hours—but you can tell him the rest, Jupiter.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, and with an air of one retiring from business upon a + well-earned competence, Madame Sagittarius lay back in her chair, settled + her bonnet-strings, flicked a crumb from the football of violets that + decorated her left side, and, extending her kid boots towards the cheerful + blaze that came from the fire, fell with a sigh into a comfortable + meditation. Mr. Sagittarius, on the other hand, assumed a look of rather + hectoring authority, and was about to utter what the Prophet had very + little doubt was a command when there came a gentle tap to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + He thought he had spoken in his ordinary voice. In reality he had merely + uttered a very small whisper. The tap was repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Louder, sir, louder!” said Mr. Sagittarius, encouragingly. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” shrieked the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand appeared, looking more like the elderly spinster lady when + confronted with the corporal in the Life Guards than ever. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir, I was to tell you that Lady Enid Thistle is with Mrs. + Merillia taking tea. Mrs. Merillia thought you would wish to know.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Sagittarius took the kid boots from the blaze on hearing this + aristocratic name. Mr. Sagittarius assumed a look of reverence, and the + Prophet realised, more acutely than ever, that even well-born young women + can be inquisitive. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” he said. “Say I’ll—I’ll”—he succeeded in making + his voice sound absolutely firm—“I’ll come in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand cast a glance of respectful, but unlimited, horror upon the + Prophet’s guests and retired, while the Prophet, calling upon all his + manhood, turned to Mr. Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + “I regret more than I can say that I shall be obliged now to obey my + grandmother’s summons,” he said courteously. “Suppose we defer this—this + pleasant little discussion to some future oc—” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, sir!” cried Mr. Sagittarius. “Quite impossible. You must get + to work to-night, and how can you do it without your directions?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can manage all right,” said the Prophet, desperately. “I can give a + guess as to—” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Non sunt ad astrae mollibus a terrus viae</i>!” cried Madame. “The + road from Berkeley square to the stars is not so easy, is it, Jupiter?” + </p> + <p> + “No indeed, my love. Why—” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” exclaimed the Prophet, much agitated, and feeling it incumbent + upon him to get rid of Mr. Sagittarius at once lest the curiosity of Lady + Enid should increase beyond all measure, and lead to an encounter between + the two clients of Jellybrand’s, “then kindly give me my directions as + briefly as possible, and—” + </p> + <p> + There was another tap upon the door. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” cried the Prophet, distractedly, “Come in!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand re-entered very delicately. + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship can only stay a minute, sir. Mrs. Merillia hopes you can + leave your business—I said as you was very busy, sir—and come + up to the drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. I’ll come. Say I’ll come, Mr. Ferdinand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + As the door closed the Prophet exclaimed excitedly,— + </p> + <p> + “I fear I really must—” + </p> + <p> + “Take down your directions, sir,” broke in Mr. Sagittarius, firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” rejoined the Prophet, desperately, seizing his pencil and the + account-book. “What are they?” + </p> + <p> + “You swear to follow them, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, anything—anything!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you a star map?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—no!” + </p> + <p> + “You must get one.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better do so at the Stores.” + </p> + <p> + Madame breathed an almost sensuous sigh which caused her husband to glance + tenderly towards her. + </p> + <p> + “I know, my love, I know,” he said. “It may come some day.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>O festum dies! Longa intervallam!</i>” she murmured, shaking her + bonnet with the manner of a martyr to duty. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius was greatly moved. + </p> + <p> + “She’s a saint,” he whispered aside to the Prophet, as if imparting some + necessary information. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Please go on!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius started, as if suddenly recalled to mundane matters. + </p> + <p> + “Get it at the Stores,” he said. “In the astronomical department.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + “Having done so, and keeping the old lady perpetually in your mind, you + will place her in the claws of the crab—” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “Mentally, sir, mentally, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh.” + </p> + <p> + “And, allowing for the natural effect of the scorpion and serpent upon one + of her venerable age—” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “When close round her, as they will be—but you will observe that for + yourself—” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet shut his eyes as one who refuses to behold sacrilege. + </p> + <p> + “You will trace the cycloidal curve of the planets—can you do that?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet nodded. + </p> + <p> + “As it affects her birthday, the twentieth. Should the lynx be near her—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” cried the Prophet. “It shall not be!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you’ll have to find that out and keep an eye to it. But should it + be, you will commit to paper what result its presence is likely to produce + to her, and work the whole thing out clearly for myself and Madame on + paper—in prophetic form, of course—so that we receive it by—what + post shall I say, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “First post, Jupiter.” + </p> + <p> + “First post on—what day is the twentieth?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” replied the Prophet, helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “A Thursday,” said Madame. “Capricornus’s day for chronic sections.” + </p> + <p> + “She always knows,” said Mr. Sagittarius to the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Always.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well then, first post Thursday morning. Now is that quite clear?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite, quite.” + </p> + <p> + “You will of course send the old lady’s horoscope to us at the same time + with full particulars.” + </p> + <p> + “Full particulars?” said the Prophet. “What of?” + </p> + <p> + “Of her removal from the bottle, cutting of her first tooth, short + coating, going into skirts, putting of the hair up, day of marriage and + widowhood, illnesses—” + </p> + <p> + “Especially the rashes, Jupiter,” struck in Madame. + </p> + <p> + “What a mind!” said Mr. Sagittarius aside to the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “Especially as Madame says, any illnesses taking the form of a rash—the + epidemic form, as I may say—and so forth. We are to receive this + document by the first post Thursday morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you dotted all that down, Mr. Vivian?” inquired Madame. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet hastily made a large variety of scratches with the lead + pencil. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” continued Mr. Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + There was a third tap at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” cried the Prophet, distractedly, and feeling as if homicidal + mania were rapidly creeping upon him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand appeared once more, with a mouth like a purse. + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship says she really must go in a moment, sir, and—and Mrs. + Merillia begs that—” + </p> + <p> + “I am coming at once, Mr. Ferdinand. I swear it. Go upstairs and swear I + swear it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand departed, rather with the demeanour of an archbishop who has + been inveigled into pledging himself, on his archiepiscopal oath, to + commit some horrid crime. The Prophet turned, almost violently, towards + his guests. + </p> + <p> + “I must go,” he cried. “I must indeed. Pray forgive me. You see how I am + circumstanced. Permit me to show you to the door.” + </p> + <p> + “You swear, sir, to carry out all our directions and to dot down—” + </p> + <p> + “I do. I swear solemnly to dot down—if you will only—this way. + Take care of the mat.” + </p> + <p> + “We trust you, Mr. Vivian,” said Madame, with majestic pathos. “A wife, a + mother trusts you. <i>Placens uxus! Mater familiaris</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “I pledge my honour. This is the—no, no, not that way, not that + way!” + </p> + <p> + The worthy couple, by mistake, no doubt, were proceeding towards the grand + staircase, having missed the way to the hall door, and as the Prophet, + following them up with almost unimaginable activity, drew near enough to + drum the right direction into their backs, Lady Enid became visible on the + landing above. Mr. Sagittarius perceived her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it’s Miss Minerv—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “This way, this way!” cried the Prophet, wheeling them round and driving + them, but always like a thorough gentleman, towards the square. + </p> + <p> + “Then she leads a double life, too!” said Mr. Sagittarius, solemnly, + fixing his strained eyes upon the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “She? Who?” said Madame, sharply. + </p> + <p> + She had not seen Lady Enid. + </p> + <p> + “All of us, my love, all of us,” returned her husband, as the Prophet + succeeded in shepherding them on to the pavement. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + With almost inconceivable rapidity he shut the door. As he did so two + vague echoes seemed to faint on his ear. One was male, a dreamlike—“First + post, Thursday!” The other was female, a fairylike—“<i>Jactum alea + sunt</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <h3> + THE PROPHET BEGINS TO CARRY OUT HIS DIRECTIONS + </h3> + <p> + “Mr. Ferdinand,” said the Prophet the same evening, after he had dressed + for dinner, “what has become of the telescope?” + </p> + <p> + He spoke in a low voice, not unlike that of a confirmed conspirator, and + glanced rather furtively around him, as if afraid of being overheard. + </p> + <p> + “I have removed it, sir, according to your orders,” replied Mr. Ferdinand, + also displaying some uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. Where have you placed it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I understood you to say I might throw it in Piccadilly, if I + so wished.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet suddenly displayed relief. + </p> + <p> + “I see. You have done so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, no, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet’s face fell. + </p> + <p> + “Then where is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, for the moment I have set it in the butler’s pantry.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought it might be of use there, sir,” continued Mr. Ferdinand, in + some confusion, which, however, was not noticed by the Prophet. “Of great + use to—to Gustavus and me in—in our duties, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, quite so,” returned the Prophet, abstractedly. + </p> + <p> + “Did you wish it to be taken to the drawing-room again, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet started. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” he said. “On no account. As you very rightly say—a + butler’s pantry is the place for a telescope. It can be of great service + there.” + </p> + <p> + His fervour surprised Mr. Ferdinand, who began to wonder whether, by any + chance, his master knew of the Lord Chancellor’s agreeable-looking + second-cook. After pausing a moment respectfully, Mr. Ferdinand was about + to decamp when the Prophet checked him with a gesture. + </p> + <p> + “One moment, Mr. Ferdinand!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “One moment!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand stood still. The Prophet cleared his throat, arranged his + tie, and then said, with an air of very elaborate nonchalance,— + </p> + <p> + “At what time do you generally go to bed, Mr. Ferdinand, when you don’t + sit up?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes at one time, sir, and sometimes at another.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s rather ambiguous.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your usual hour for being quite—that is, entirely in bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely in bed, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand’s fine bass voice vibrated with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Not partially in bed, but really and truly in bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” returned Mr. Ferdinand, with decided dignity, “when I am in + bed, sir, I am.” + </p> + <p> + “And when’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “By twelve, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought as much,” cried the Prophet, with slightly theatrical + solicitude. “You sit up too late, Mr. Ferdinand.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, sir, that I—” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what makes you so pale, Mr. Ferdinand, and delicate.” + </p> + <p> + “Delicate, sir!” cried Mr. Ferdinand, who had in fact been hopelessly + robust from the cradle, totally incapable of acquiring even the most + universal complaints, and, moreover, miraculously exempt from that + well-recognised affliction of the members of his profession so widely + known as “butler’s feet.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Prophet, emphatically. “You should be in bed, thoroughly + in bed, by a quarter to eleven. And Gustavus too! He is young, and the + young can’t be too careful. Begin to-night, Mr. Ferdinand. I speak for + your health’s sake, believe me.” + </p> + <p> + So saying the Prophet hurried away, leaving Mr. Ferdinand almost as firmly + rooted to the Turkey carpet with surprise as if he had been woven into the + pattern at birth, and never unpicked in later years. + </p> + <p> + At ten that evening the Prophet, having escaped early from his dinner on + some extravagant plea of sudden illness or second gaiety, stood in the + small and sober passage of the celebrated Tintack Club and inquired + anxiously for Mr. Robert Green. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Mr. Green is upstairs in the smoke-room,” said the functionary + whom the club grew under glass for the benefit of the members and their + friends. + </p> + <p> + “Sam, show this gentleman to Mr. Green.” + </p> + <p> + Sam, who was a red-faced child in buttons, with a man’s walk and the back + of one who knew as much as most people, obeyed this command, and ushered + the Prophet into a room with a sealing-wax red paper, in which Robert + Green was sitting alone, smoking a large cigar and glancing at the + “stony-broke edition” of an evening paper. He greeted the Prophet with his + usual unaffected cordiality, offered him every drink that had yet been + invented, and, on his refusal of them all, handed him a cigar and a + matchbox, and whistled “Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-av” at him in the most friendly + manner possible. + </p> + <p> + “Bob,” said the Prophet, taking a very long time to light the cigar, + “what, in your opinion, is the exact meaning of the term honour?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green’s cheerful, though slightly belated, face assumed an expression + of genial betwaddlement. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, Hen,” he said, “exact meaning you know’s not so easy. But—hang + it, we all understand the thing, eh, without sticking it down in words. + What?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t, Bob,” rejoined the Prophet, in the tone of a man at odds with + several consciences. “In what direction does honour lie?” + </p> + <p> + “It don’t lie at all, old chap,” said Mr. Green, with the decided manner + which had made him so universally esteemed in yeomanry circles. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet began to look very much distressed. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Bob, I’ll put it in this way,” he said. “Would an honourable + man feel bound to keep a promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but would he feel bound to keep two promises?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather, if he’d made ‘em.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he had!” + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead, Hen, I’m supposing,” said Mr. Green, beginning to pucker his + brows and stare very hard indeed in the endeavour to keep the supposition + fixed firmly in his head. + </p> + <p> + “And, further, suppose that these two promises were diametrically opposed + to one another.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green stuck out one leg, looked obliquely at the carpet, pressed his + lips together and nodded. + </p> + <p> + “So that if he fulfilled them both he’d have to break them both—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop a sec! Gad, I’ve lost it! Start again, Hen!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I mean so that if he didn’t break one he would be forced to break the + other. Have you got that?” + </p> + <p> + “Stop a bit! Don’t believe I have. Let’s see!” + </p> + <p> + He moved his lips silently, repeating the Prophet’s words. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I’ve got that all right now,” he said, after three minutes of + strenuous mental exertion. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what would you say of him?” + </p> + <p> + “That he was a damned fool.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet looked very much upset. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Bob, I meant to him. What would you say to him?” + </p> + <p> + “That he was a damned fool.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet began to appear thoroughly broken down. However, he still + stuck to his interpellation. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Bob,” he said, with unutterable resignation—as of a toad + beneath the harrow—“but, putting all that aside—” + </p> + <p> + “Give us a chance, Hen! I’ve got to shunt all that, have I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, at least all you would say of, and to, the man.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, only that. Wait a bit! Yes, I’ve done that. Drive on now!” + </p> + <p> + “Putting all that aside, what should you advise the man to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Not to be such a damned fool again.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! I mean about the two promises?” + </p> + <p> + “What about ‘em?” + </p> + <p> + “Which would his sense of honour compel him to keep?” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t think such a damned fool’d got a sense of honour.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet winced, but he stuck with feverish obstinacy to his point. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Bob, he had.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe it, Hen, ‘pon my word I don’t. You’ll always find that + damned f—” + </p> + <p> + “Bob, I must beg you to take it from me. He had. Now which promise should + he keep?” + </p> + <p> + “Who’d he made ‘em to?” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” said the Prophet, wavering. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “One to—to a very near and dear relative, the other to—well, + Bob to two comparative strangers.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of strangers.” + </p> + <p> + “The sort of strangers who—who live beside a river, and who—who + mix principally with—well, in fact, with architects and their + wives.” + </p> + <p> + “Rum sort of strangers?” + </p> + <p> + “They are decidedly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then, you know ‘em?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not the point,” exclaimed the Prophet, hastily. “The point is + which promise is to be kept.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say the one made to the relative. Wait a bit, though! Yes, I + should say that.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet breathed a sigh of relief. But some dreadful sense of honesty + within him compelled him to add,— + </p> + <p> + “I forgot to say that he’d pledged his honour to the architects—that + is, to the strangers who lived beside a river.” + </p> + <p> + “What—and not pledged it to the relative?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, no.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he ought to stick to the promise he’d pledged his honour over, of + course. Nice for the relative! The man’s a damned fool, Hen. Do have a + drink, old chap.” + </p> + <p> + Thus did Mr. Robert Green drive the Prophet to take the first decisive + step that was to lead to so many complications,—the step towards Mr. + Ferdinand’s pantry. + </p> + <p> + At precisely a quarter to eleven p.m. the Prophet stood upon his doorstep + and, very gently indeed, inserted his latchkey into the door. A shaded + lamp was burning in the deserted hall, where profound silence reigned. + Clear was the night and starry. As the Prophet turned to close the door he + perceived the busy crab, and the thought of his beloved grandmother, + sinking now to rest on the second floor all unconscious of the propinquity + of the scorpion, the contiguity of the serpent, filled his expressive eyes + with tears. He shut the door, stood in the hall and listened. He heard a + chair crack, the ticking of a clock. There was no other sound, and he felt + certain that Mr. Ferdinand and Gustavus had heeded his anxious medical + directions and gone entirely to bed betimes, leaving the butler’s pantry + free for the nocturnal operations of the victim of Madame. For he + recognised that she was the guiding spirit of the family that dwelt beside + the Mouse. He might have escaped out of the snare of Mr. Sagittarius, but + Madame was a fowler who would hold him fast till she had satisfied herself + once and for all whether it were indeed possible to dwell in the central + districts, within reach of the Army and Navy heaven in Victoria Street, + and yet remain a prophet. Yes, he must now work for the information of her + ambitious soul. He sighed deeply and went softly up the stairs. His + chamber was on the same floor as Mrs. Merillia’s, and, as he neared her + door, he rose instinctively upon his toes and, grasping the tails of his + evening coat firmly with his left hand, to prevent any chance rustling of + their satin lining, and bearing his George the Third silver candlestick + steadily to control any clattering of its extinguisher, he moved on rather + like a thief who was also a trained ballerina, holding his breath and + pressing his lips together in a supreme agony of dumbness. + </p> + <p> + Unluckily he tripped in the raised pattern of the carpet, the candlestick + uttered a silver note, his pent-in breath escaped with a loud gulp, and + Mrs. Merillia’s delicate voice cried out from behind her shut door,— + </p> + <p> + “Hennessey! Hennessey!” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet bit his lip and went at once into her room. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia looked simply charming in bed, with her long and elegant + head shaded by a beautiful muslin helmet trimmed with lace, and a + delicious embroidered wrapper round her shoulders. The Prophet stood + beside her, shading the candle-flame with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well, grannie, dear,” he said, “what is it? You ought to be asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “I never sleep before twelve. Have you had a pleasant dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “Very. Stanyer Phelps, the American, was there and very witty. And we had + a marvellous <i>supreme de volaille</i>. Everybody asked after you.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, good-night, grannie.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, my dear boy.” + </p> + <p> + She kissed him, then added,— + </p> + <p> + “You like Lady Enid, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Very much.” + </p> + <p> + “So does Robert Green. He thinks her such a thoroughly sensible girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Bob! Does he?” said the Prophet, concealing a slight smile. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. If you want her to get on with you, Hennessey, you should come up to + tea when she is here.” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn’t to-day, grannie.” + </p> + <p> + “You were really busy?” + </p> + <p> + “Very busy indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you only saw her for a moment on the stairs?” + </p> + <p> + “That was all.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia dropped the subject. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + circles of the elect. + </p> + <p> + Very surreptitiously the Prophet tripped across the hall and reached the + stout door which gave access to the servants’ quarters. But here he + paused. Although he had lived in Mrs. Merillia’s most comfortable home for + at least fifteen years, he had actually never once penetrated beyond this + door. It had never occurred to him to do so. Often he had approached it. + Quite recently, when Mrs. Fancy Quinglet had broken into tears on the + refusal of Sir Tiglath Butt to burst according to her prediction, he had + handed her to this very portal. But he had never passed through it, nor + did he know what lay beyond. No doubt there was a kitchen, very probably + the mysterious region of watery activities commonly known as a scullery, + quite certainly a butler’s pantry. But where each separate sanctum lay, + and what should be the physiognomy of each one the Prophet had not the + vaguest idea. As he turned the handle of the door he felt like Sir Henry + Stanley, when that intrepid explorer first set foot among the leafy + habitations of the dwarfs. + </p> + <p> + As the door opened the Prophet found himself in a large apartment whose + walls were decorated with the efforts of those great painters who feed the + sentimental imaginations of the masses in the beautiful Christmas numbers + of our artistic day. Enchanting little girls and exceedingly human dogs + observed his entrance from every hand, while such penetrating and + suggestive legends as “Don’t bite!” “Mustn’t!” “Naughty!” “Would ‘ums?” + and the like, filled his mind with the lofty thoughts so suitable to the + Christmas season. Over the mantelpiece was a <i>Cook’s Almanac for the + Home</i>, decorated in bright colours, a <i>Butler’s own book</i>, bound + in claret-coloured linen, and a large framed photograph of Francatelli, + that immortal <i>chef</i> whose memory is kept green in so many kitchens, + and whose recipes are still followed as are followed the footprints of the + great ones in the Everlasting Sands of Time. One corner of the room + Gustavus had made his own, and here might be seen his tasteful what-not + and his little library—neatly arranged unabridged farthing editions + of Drummond’s <i>Ascent of Man</i>, Mill’s <i>Liberty</i>, Crampton’s <i>Origin + of Self-Respect</i>, Barlow’s <i>A Philosophical Examination into the Art + and Practice of Tipping and Receiving Tips</i>, and other volumes suitable + for an intellectual footman’s reading. An eight-day clock, which was + carefully and lovingly wound up by the prudent Mrs. Fancy Quinglet every + morning and evening, snored peacefully in a recess by the hearth, and, + from a crevice near the window, the bright, intelligent eyes of a couple + of well-developed black-beetles—mother and son—contentedly + surveyed the cheerful scene. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet, after a moment’s pause of contemplation, passed on through a + swing door, covered with green baize, and down some stairs to the inner + courts of this interesting region. This time he came to anchor in a room + which, he thought, might well have been a butler’s pantry had it contained + a large-sized telescope. It was in fact the parlour set apart for the use + of the kitchen and scullery maids, and was brightly fitted up with a + dresser, a cupboard for skewers, a rolling-pin, a basting machine, and + other similar adjuncts. It gave on to the kitchen, in which the cat of the + house was enjoying well-earned slumber in the attitude of a black ball. So + far his exploring tour had quite fulfilled the rather vague expectations + of the Prophet, but he now began to feel anxious. Time was passing on and + he had sworn to be at the telescope by eleven sharp. He had, therefore, + already slightly fractured his oath, and he had no desire to earn the + anathema of all such men as Robert Green by breaking it into small pieces. + Where was the butler’s pantry? He glanced eagerly round the kitchen, + perceived a door, passed through it, and found himself confronted by a + sink. He had gained the scullery, but not his goal. To the right of the + sink was yet another door through which the Prophet, who carried the + planisphere in one hand, the George the Third candlestick in the other, + rather excitedly debouched into a good-sized passage. As he did so he + heard the muffled alto voice of the eight-day clock proclaim that it was a + quarter-past eleven. Feeling that he was now upon the point of breaking + both the promises of the damned fool, the Prophet hastened along the + passage, darted through the first outlet, and found himself abruptly face + to back with what appeared at first glance to be an enormously broad and + bow-legged dwarf, with a bald head and a black tail coat, which, in an + attitude of savage curiosity, was gazing through a gigantic instrument, + whose muzzle projected from an open window into a spacious area. So great + was the Prophet’s surprise, so supreme the shock to his whole nervous + system occasioned by this unexpected encounter, that he did not utter a + cry. His amazement carried him into that terrible region which lies beyond + the realms of speech. He simply stood quite still and gazed at the + bow-legged dwarf, which, in its turn, continued to gaze savagely through + the gigantic instrument into the area. Not for perhaps three or four + minutes did the Prophet realise that this dwarf was merely an ingeniously + shortened form of Mr. Ferdinand, who, with his legs very wide apart, and + making two accurate right angles at their respective knee-joints, his head + thrown well back, and his arms arranged in two perfect capital V’s, with + the elbows pointing directly at the walls on either side of him, had been + busily engaged for the last hour and a quarter in trying to focus firstly + the Lord Chancellor’s house on the opposite side of the square, and + secondly the pleasant-looking second-cook in it. That his chivalrous + efforts had not yet been crowned with complete success will be understood + when we say that he had seen during his first half-hour of contemplation + nothing at all, during his second half-hour the left-hand top star of the + Great Bear, and finally the fourth spike from the end of the iron railing + which enclosed the square garden, at which he had been gazing closely for + precisely fifteen minutes and a half when the Prophet darted into the + pantry. + </p> + <p> + Having at length recovered from his shock of surprise sufficiently to + realise that the enormous and immobile dwarf was Mr. Ferdinand, and that + Mr. Ferdinand was not yet aware of his presence, the Prophet resolved to + beat a rapid and noiseless retreat. He carried this resolve into execution + by turning sharply round, knocking his head against a plate chest, firing + the George the Third candlestick into the passage, and letting the + planisphere go into the china jar of “Butler’s own special pomade” which + Mr. Ferdinand kept always open for use upon the pantry table. + </p> + <p> + To say that Mr. Ferdinand ceased from looking through the telescope for + the Lord Chancellor’s second-cook at this juncture would, perhaps, not + convey quite a fair idea of the activity which he could on occasion + display even at his somewhat advanced age. It might be more just to state + that, without wasting any precious time in useless elongation, he + described an exceedingly rapid circular movement, still preserving the + shortened form of himself which had so deceived and startled his master, + and brought his eye from the orifice of the telescope to a level with the + Prophet’s knees exactly at the moment when the Prophet rebounded from the + plate chest into the centre of the apartment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is it you, Mr. Ferdinand?” said the Prophet, controlling every + symptom of anguish, with the exception of a rapid flutter of the eyelids. + “I was looking for—for a bradawl.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet’s choice of this useful little implement as the reason for his + presence in Mr. Ferdinand’s special sanctum was prompted by the fact that, + just as he was speaking, he happened to see a bradawl lying upon a + neighbouring knife cupboard in the company of a corkscrew. + </p> + <p> + “And here, I see, is just what I want,” he added calmly. + </p> + <p> + So far he had displayed extraordinary composure, but at this point he made + a slight mistake, for he picked up the corkscrew and sauntered quietly + away with it into the darkness, leaving Mr. Ferdinand still in the + attitude of a Toby jug, the planisphere still head downwards in the + butler’s own special pomade, and the George the Third candlestick + stretched at full length upon the passage floor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <h3> + THE PROPHET AND MALKIEL THE SECOND CONVERSE BY TELEGRAM + </h3> + <p> + “Hennessey Vivian, 1000 Berkeley Square, W. + </p> + <p> + “Please wire result of last night’s observations from eleven till three + inclusive.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Jupiter Sagittarius, Sagittarius Lodge, Crampton St. Peter, N. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible wire result, will write at length after taking further + observations to-night.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly write at length, but meanwhile wire all important results in + condensed form.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Results not sufficiently important to wire, letter without fail + to-morrow.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind unimportance, wire whatever results obtained.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “On consideration think results too important to wire, will explain by + letter.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Your second and third wires in direct contradiction; kindly reconcile + opposing statements.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot reconcile by wire, will do so by letter.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Then meanwhile request forecast of grandmother so far as gathered last + night.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite impossible discuss grandmother by wire.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all; couch in careful terms, shall understand; no need put + grandmother’s name.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite impossible; grandmother too sacred for treatment by wire, long and + full letter to-morrow.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Absurd! Call her Harry and wire her future as obtained last night; shall + understand.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot possibly consent call grandmother Harry; pray cease; succession of + telegraph boys to house attracting general attention in square.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Must insist; then call her Susan and wire.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot possibly consent to call her Susan; discussion of such matter by + wire not decent; regret must absolutely decline.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame and self insulted by accusation not decent; demand explanation and + apology.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Regret; no desire give pain to lady, but this must cease; grandmother and + square seriously upset by procession of telegraph boys.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot help square and grandmother; must have last night’s result to + compare with own observation of grandmother with crab and scorpion.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray cease; would rather die than discuss grandmother with crab and + scorpion by wire.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish! Call crab Susan, scorpion Jane, grandmother Harry, and wire; + absolutely insist.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely decline discuss crab, scorpion and grandmother by wire; final.—Vivian. + </p> + <p> + “Scandalous! not behaviour of gentleman; Madame cut to heart; infamous.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Mater familiaris pallidibus ira.—Madame Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “If receive no reply as to grandmother and crab, et cetera, shall start at + once for Square.—Jupiter and Madame Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “On no account trouble come up; going out immediately; important + engagement.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame putting on boots.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Utterly useless put on boots; leaving house.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame boots on; tying bonnet.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Totally useless tie bonnet; absolutely forced leave house.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame in pelisse; shall come in wait till your return.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Regret pelisse; quite useless; out till late evening.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall stay till whatever hour; have on hat and bonnet now; starting.—Jupiter + and Madame Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven’s sake don’t; will wire whatever you wish.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t. Ankles perhaps catching; dangerous Capricornus.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you started?—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Have not started, but at threshold of door; wire full explanation of crab + with grandmother, et cetera, last night or shall start instanter.—Jupiter + and Madame Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Truth is very little result last night; did not see crab with + grandmother; deeply regret.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Then wire result of scorpion with grandmother.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Very sorry did not see scorpion with grandmother.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible; believe stars out; clear sky; self and Madame distinctly + observed crab and scorpion with grandmother for four hours.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “On honour did not see crab, scorpion or grandmother.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Then has grandmother passed over?—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, but no result; pray cease discussion, grandmother and + square distracted by incessant uproar of boys at door.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Leaving house; with you as soon as possible.—Jupiter and Madame + Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven’s sake don’t; tell truth; did not look through telescope at all + last night.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “What meaning of this swore oath broken; no gentleman; coming at once for + explanation.—Jupiter and Madame Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop; sending boy messenger with full explanation; severe accident last + night, injured head, so unable look for crab, grandmother and scorpion.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Astounded, upset, Madame says not conduct gentleman; might have seen + crab, grandmother and scorpion with injured head; mere excuse—caput + mortuus decrepitum cancer.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray excuse; look to-night without fail; Heaven’s sake cease writing; + grandmother and whole square amazement, confusion; shall go mad if + continues.—Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, but insist on full letter; confidence in oath much shaken; + wires most shifty; gross neglect of crab, grandmother and scorpion.—Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Homo miserum sed magnum est veritatus et praevalebetur.—Madame + Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <h3> + MISS MINERVA OPENS HER BOOK OF REVELATION IN A CAB + </h3> + <p> + “Assure the Lord Chancellor that the last boy has been and gone—gone + away, that is, Mr. Ferdinand, and that I pledge my sacred word not to have + another telegram to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. His lordship desired that you should be informed that, + according to the law regulating public abominations and intolerable street + noises, you was liable to—” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “And that, by the Act dealing with gross offences against the public order + and scandalous crimes against the peace of metropolitan communities, you + was amenable—” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. Go to his lordship and swear—” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn’t do that so soon again, sir, really. I swore only as short ago + as yesterday, sir, by your express order, but—” + </p> + <p> + “I mean asseverate to his lordship that the very last boy has knocked for + the very last time.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t so much the knocking, sir, his lordship complained of, as the + boys coming to the door meeting the boys going away from it, and blocking + up the pavement, sir, so that no one could get past and—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. Go and asseverate at once, Mr. Ferdinand.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir. And Her Grace, the Duchess of Camberwell, who is passing + from one fit to another, sir, from fright at the uproar and telegrams + going to the wrong house, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Implore Her Grace to have courage and to trust me as a gentleman when I + promise solemnly that the knocking shall not be renewed.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ferdinand!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Have the knockers swathed in cotton-wool at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And—fix a bulletin on the door. Wait! I’ll write it.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet hastened to his writing table and, with a hand that trembled + violently, wrote on a card as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “Owner of this house seriously ill, pray do not knock or <i>death</i> + shall certainly ensue.” + </p> + <p> + “There! Poor grannie will have peace now. Nail that up, Mr. Ferdinand, + under the cotton-wool.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir. Mrs. Merillia, sir, would be glad to speak to you for a + moment. You remember I informed you?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go to her at once. But first bring me a glass of brandy, Mr. + Ferdinand. I’m feeling extremely unwell.” + </p> + <p> + And the Prophet, who was paler far than ashes, and beaded from top to toe + with perspiration, sank down feebly upon a chair and let his head drop on + the blotting-pad that lay on his writing-table. + </p> + <p> + When he had swallowed an inch or two of cognac he got up, pulled himself + together with both hands, and walked, like an elderly person afflicted + with incipient locomotor ataxy, upstairs into the drawing-room where Mrs. + Merillia was lying on a sofa, ministered to by Fancy Quinglet, who, at the + moment of his entrance, was busily engaged in stuffing a large wad of + cotton-wool into the right ear of her beloved mistress. + </p> + <p> + “Leave us please, Fancy,” said Mrs. Merillia, in a voice that sounded much + older than usual. “And as your head is so bad, too, you had better lie + down.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, ma’am. If I keep upright, ma’am, I feel my head will split + asunder. I can’t speak different nor feel other.” + </p> + <p> + “Then don’t be upright.” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma’am. Them that feels other, let them declare it!” and Mrs. Fancy + retired, holding both hands to her temples, and uttering very distinctly + sundry stifled moans. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia motioned the Prophet to a chair, and, after lying quite + still for about five minutes with her eyes tightly shut, said in a weak + tone of voice,— + </p> + <p> + “How many more telegrams do you expect, Hennessey? You have had + twenty-seven within the last three hours. Can you give me a rough general + idea of the average number you anticipate will probably arrive every hour + from now till the offices close?” + </p> + <p> + “Grannie, grannie, forgive me! I assure you—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid to tell me, Hennessey. It is much better to know the + worst, and fact it bravely. Will the present average be merely sustained, + or do you expect the quantity to increase towards night? because if so—” + </p> + <p> + “Grannie, there will be no more. I swear to you solemnly that I will not + have another telegram to-day. I will not upon my sacred honour. Nothing—not + wild horses even—shall induce me.” + </p> + <p> + “Horses! Then were they racing tips, Hennessey? Yes, give me the <i>eau de + Cologne</i> and fan me gently. Were they racing tips?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, grannie, how could you suppose—” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Mr. Ferdinand entered softly and went up to Mrs. Merillia. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Q. Elisha Hubsbee, ma’am. He is deeply distressed and asks for news . + . .” + </p> + <p> + “The Central American Ambassador’s grandfather,” said Mrs. Merillia, + reading the card which Mr. Ferdinand handed to her. + </p> + <p> + “Shocked to hear you are so ill that a knock will finish you. Guess you + must be far gone. Earnest sympathy. Have you tried patent morphia + molasses? + </p> + <p> + “Q. E. H.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! how things get about! Tell Mr. Elisha Hubsbee the knocks have nearly + killed us all, Mr. Ferdinand, but we are bearing up as well as can be + expected. If necessary we will certainly try the molasses.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “It is two o’clock now, Hennessey. The Charing Cross office is open till + midnight, I believe, so at the present rate you should only have about + ninety more telegrams to-day. But if you have reason to expect—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand re-entered. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Hendrick Marshall has called, ma’am. She desired me to say she was + passing the door and was much horrified to find that you are so near the + point, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “What point, Mr. Ferdinand?” + </p> + <p> + “Of death, ma’am. She had no idea at all, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank Mrs. Hendrick Marshall, Mr. Ferdinand, and say we shall try to + keep from the point for the present. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “—That the numbers will go up as the afternoon draws on, Hennessey—” + </p> + <p> + “Grannie, haven’t I sworn, and have you ever known me to tell you a—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the Prophet stopped short, thinking how that very night he would + be forced by his oath to “Madame and self” to break his promise to his + grandmother, how already it would have been broken had not Mr. Ferdinand + on the previous night been in possession of the telescope. + </p> + <p> + “The Chancellor of the Exchequer, ma’am, desires his compliments, and he + begs you to last out, if possible, till he has fetched Sir William + Broadbent to see you. He is going there on his bike, ma’am, and had no + conception you was dying till he knew it this moment, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank the Chancellor, Mr. Ferdinand, and say that though we must all go + out some day I have no desire for a dissolution at present, and shall do + my best to prove myself worthy of my constitution.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand retired, brushing away a tear. + </p> + <p> + “It would not be feasible, I suppose, Hennessey, to station Gustavus + permanently at the telegraph office with a small hamper, so that he might + collect the wires in it as they arrive and convey them here, once an hour + or so, entering by the area door. I thought perhaps that might obviate—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand once more appeared, looking very puffy about the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, ma’am, La—ady Julia Pos—ostlethwaite is below, + and asks whe—ether you are truly going ma’am?” + </p> + <p> + “Going? Where to, Mr. Ferdinand?” + </p> + <p> + “The other pla—ace, ma’am. Her ladyship is crying something + terrible, ma’am, and says, till she no—no—noticed the fact she + had no—no—notion you was leaving us so soon, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Ferdinand uttered a very strange and heartrending sound that was + rather like the bark of a dog with a bad cold in its head. + </p> + <p> + “It is really very odd so many people finding out so soon!” said Mrs. + Merillia in some surprise. “Tell her ladyship, Mr. Ferdinand, that—” + </p> + <p> + But at this moment there was the sound of feet on the stairs, and Lady + Enid Thistle hurried into the room, closely followed by Mr. Robert Green. + Lady Enid went up at once to Mrs. Merillia. + </p> + <p> + “I am so shocked and distressed to see your news, dear Mrs. Merillia,” she + cried affectionately. “But,” she added, with much inquisitiveness, “is it + really true that if anyone tapped on the door you would certainly die? How + can you be so sure of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Ah, Mr. Green, how d’you do? See my news!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, written up on the front door. Everyone’s shocked.” + </p> + <p> + “Rather!” said Mr. Green, gazing at Mrs. Merillia with confused + mournfulness. “One doesn’t see death on a front door every day, don’t you + know, in big round hand too, and then one of those modern words.” + </p> + <p> + “Death on the front door in big round hand!” said Mrs. Merillia in the + greatest perplexity. + </p> + <p> + “I put it there, grannie,” said the Prophet, humbly. “I wrote that if + another boy knocked, death would certainly ensue.” + </p> + <p> + “Ensue. That’s it. I knew it was one of those modern words,” said Mr. + Green. + </p> + <p> + “Another boy?” said Lady Enid. “Why should another boy knock?” + </p> + <p> + “Hennessey receives about nine telegrams an hour,” answered Mrs. Merillia. + </p> + <p> + “Really!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid looked at him with keen interest, while Mrs. Merillia continued,— + </p> + <p> + “You had better take death off the door now, Mr. Ferdinand. I feel more + myself. Please thank her ladyship and tell her so.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “Nine telegrams an hour!” repeated Lady Enid. “Mr. Vivian, would you mind + just seeing me as far as Hill Street? Bob has to go to Tattersall’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Have I, Niddy?” asked Mr. Green, with evident surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to pick up a polo pony. Don’t you recollect?” + </p> + <p> + “A polo pony, was it? By Jove!” + </p> + <p> + “I will come with pleasure,” said the poor Prophet, who felt fit only to + lie down quietly in his grave. “If you don’t mind being left, grannie?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia was looking pleased. + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Go with Lady Enid, my dear boy. If any telegrams come shall I + open—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” cried the Prophet, with sudden fierce energy. “For mercy’s sake—I + mean, grannie, dear; that none will come. If they should”—his + ordinary gentle eyes flamed almost furiously—“Mr. Ferdinand is to + burn them unread—yes, to ashes. I will tell him.” And he escorted + Lady Enid tumultuously downstairs, missing his footing at every second + step. + </p> + <p> + In the square they parted from Mr. Green, who said,— + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Niddy, old girl. What do I want to pick up at Tattersall’s?” + </p> + <p> + “A polo pony, Bob,” she answered firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a polo pony. Thanks, Chin, chin, Hen. Polo pony is it?” + </p> + <p> + He strode off, whistling “She wore a wreath of roses” in a puzzled manner, + but still preserving the accepted demeanour of a bulwark. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Mr. Green was out of sight Lady Enid said,— + </p> + <p> + “We aren’t going to Hill Street.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t we?” replied the Prophet, feebly. + </p> + <p> + “No. I must see Sir Tiglath Butt to-day. I want you to take me to his + door.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is his door?” + </p> + <p> + “In Kensington Square. Do you mind hailing a four-wheeler. We can talk + privately there. No one will hear us.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet hailed a growler, wondering whether they would be able to hear + each other. As they got in Lady Enid, after giving the direction, said to + the cabman, who was a short person, with curling ebon whiskers, a + broken-up expression and a broken-down manner: + </p> + <p> + “Drive slowly, please and I’ll give you an extra six-pence.” + </p> + <p> + “Lydy?” + </p> + <p> + “Drive slowly, and I’ll give you another six-pence.” + </p> + <p> + “How did yer think I was gawing to drive, lydy?” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder why cabmen are always so interested in one’s inmost thoughts,” + said Lady Enid, as the horse fell down preparatory to starting. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope he will go slowly.” + </p> + <p> + “He seems to be doing so.” + </p> + <p> + At this point the horse, after knocking on the front of the cab with his + hind feet ten or a dozen times, got up, hung his head, and drew a large + number of deep and dejected breaths. + </p> + <p> + “Am I gawing slowly enough, lydy?” asked the cabman, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but you can let him trot along now.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, lydy, I ain’t preventing of him.” + </p> + <p> + As eventually they scrambled slowly forward in the Kensington direction, + Lady Enid remarked,— + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you have them sent to Jellybrand’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Have what?” asked the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Your telegrams. The messages from your double life. I do.” + </p> + <p> + “But I assure you—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vivian, it’s useless really. I find you hidden away in the inner room + of Jellybrand’s with Mr. Sagittarius, closely guarded by Frederick Smith; + fourpenny champagne—” + </p> + <p> + “Four bob—shilling, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, was it?—Upon the table. After I’ve been poisoned, and we are + leaving, Mr. Sagittarius calls after you such expressions as ‘Banks of the + Mouse—hear from me—marrow—architects and the last day.’ + You are obviously agitated by these expressions. We reach your house. I + find you have been prophesying through a telescope. The name of Malkiel—a + well-known prophet—is mentioned. You turn pale and glance at me + imploringly, as if to solicit my silence. I am silent. The next day you + announce that you are going to have two afternoon parties.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, not afternoon! I never said afternoon!” interposed the Prophet, + frantically, as the horse fell down again in order to earn the extra + sixpence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, two parties in the afternoon. It’s the same thing. You say they are + odd. You yourself acknowledge it. You tell me you have secrets.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. When I said I had guessed your secret you replied, ‘Which one?’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” murmured the Prophet, trying not to say “come in!” to the horse, + which was again knocking with both feet upon the front of the cab. + </p> + <p> + “You go home. I call during the afternoon, and find that you are + entertaining all your guests in your own little room and that your + grandmother knows nothing of it and believes you to be working. As I am + leaving I see the backs of two of your guests. One is a pelisse, the other + a spotted collar. As I near them they mount into a purple omnibus on which + is printed in huge letters, <i>‘To the “Pork Butcher’s Rest’’</i>—” + </p> + <p> + “No! No!” ejaculated the Prophet, pale with horror at this revelation. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Rest</i>, Crampton Vale, N. I lose them in the shadows. The next day I + call and find your grandmother is dying from the noise made by boys + bringing you private telegrams. And then you tell me, me—Minerva + Partridge—that you have no double life! Yes, you can let him get up + now, please.” + </p> + <p> + The cabman permitted the horse to do so and they again struggled + funereally forward. The Prophet was still very pale. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it is useless to—very well,” he said. “My life is + double.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “But only lately, quite lately.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind that. Oh! How glad I am that you have had the courage too! You + will soon get into it, as I did. But you should have all your telegrams + and so forth directed to Jellybrand’s.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s too late,” replied the Prophet, dejectedly. “Too late. I do wish + that horse wouldn’t fall down so continually! It’s most monotonous.” + </p> + <p> + “The poor man naturally wants the extra sixpence. I think I shall give him + a shilling. But now who is Mr. Sagittarius?” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I’ve seen him several times at Jellybrand’s, and when I first met + him I though he was an outside broker.” + </p> + <p> + “You! Was it on the pier at Margate?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not! Really, Mr. Vivian! even in my double life I occasionally + draw the line.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon. I—the horse confuses me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he’s stopped knocking now and will be up in another minute. Who did + you say Mr. Sagittarius was?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t say he was anybody, but he’s a man.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d guessed that.” + </p> + <p> + “And an acquaintance of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid it’s going to rain.” + </p> + <p> + “It generally does in Knightsbridge. Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Is Sir Tiglath likely to be in?” + </p> + <p> + “He knows I’m coming. Well, you haven’t told me who Mr. Sagittarius is.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Enid,” said the Prophet, desperately, “I know very little of Mr. + Sagittarius beyond the fact that he’s a man, which I’ve already informed + you of.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he an outside broker?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he’s Malkiel. You can’t deny it.” + </p> + <p> + “I can deny anything,” said the Prophet, who, already upset by the events + of the day, was now goaded almost to desperation. “I can and—and + must. There’s the horse down again!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to give the man one and sixpence. Are your going to keep + your promise to Mrs. Merillia and Sir Tiglath?” + </p> + <p> + To this question the Prophet determined to give a direct answer, in order + to draw Lady Enid away from the more dangerous subjects. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, with a spasm of pain. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you wouldn’t be able to.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because when one’s once been really and truly silly it’s impossible not + to repeat the act, absolutely impossible. You’ll never stop now. You’ll go + on from one thing to another, as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think that prophecy is silly,” said the Prophet, with some + stiffness. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with frank admiration. + </p> + <p> + “You’re worse than I am! It’s splendid!” + </p> + <p> + “Worse!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. You’re foolish enough to think your silly acts sensible. I wish + I could get to that. Then perhaps I could impose on Sir Tiglath more + easily too.” + </p> + <p> + She considered this idea seriously, as they started on again, and + gradually got free of the little crowd that had been sitting on the + horse’s head. + </p> + <p> + “I must impose upon him,” she said. “And you’ve got to help me.” + </p> + <p> + “I!” cried the Prophet, feeling terribly unequal to everything. “I cannot + possibly consent—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear Mr. Vivian, you can. And if two thoroughly silly people can’t + impose upon one sensible old man, it will be very strange indeed. And now + I’m going to tell you what I hadn’t time to tell you yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned forward and tapped sharply on the rattling glass in front of + the cab. The cabman, bending down, twisted his whiskers towards her. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go too fast.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t get ‘im to fall down agyne, lydy. ‘E’s too tired.” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay. But don’t let him walk quite so fast.” + </p> + <p> + She drew back. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vivian,” she said—and the Prophet thought she had never looked + more sensible than now, as she began this revelation—“Mr. Vivian, + among the silly people I have met in my dear double life, who do you think + are the very silliest?” + </p> + <p> + “The anti-vaccinators?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Besides, they so often have small-pox and become quite sensible.” + </p> + <p> + “The atheists?” + </p> + <p> + “I used to think so, but not now. And most of those I knew are Roman + Catholics at present.” + </p> + <p> + “The women who don’t desire to be slaves?” + </p> + <p> + “There aren’t any.” + </p> + <p> + “The tearers of Paderewski’s hair?” + </p> + <p> + “I so seldom meet them, because they all live out in the suburbs.” + </p> + <p> + “The tight-lacers?” + </p> + <p> + “They get red noses, poor things, and disappear. They’re not permanent + enough to count as the very silliest.” + </p> + <p> + “I give it up.” + </p> + <p> + “The Spiritualists and the Christian Scientists. That’s why I love them + best, and spend most of my double life with them. How you would get on + with them! How much at ease you would be in their midst!” + </p> + <p> + “Really! But aren’t they in opposite camps?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear things! They often think so, I believe. But really they aren’t. Half + the Christian Scientists begin as Spiritualists. And a great many + Spiritualists were once Christian Scientists.” + </p> + <p> + “Which are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Both, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” + </p> + <p> + “As you will be when you’ve got thoroughly into your double life. Well, my + greatest friend—in my double life, you understand—is a Mrs. + Vane Bridgeman, a Christian Scientist and Spiritualist. She is very rich, + and magnificently idiotic. She supports all foolish charities. She has + almshouses for broken-down mediums on Sunnington Common in Kent. She has + endowed a hospital for sick fortune-tellers. She gave five hundred pounds + to the home for indigent thought-readers, and nearly as much to the + ‘Palmists’ Seaside Retreat’ at Millaby Bay near Dover. I don’t know how + many Christian Science Temples she hasn’t erected, or subscribed liberally + to. She turns every table in her house. She won’t leave even one alone. + Her early breakfasts for star-gazers are famous, and it’s impossible to + dine with her without sitting next to a horoscope-caster, or being taken + in—to dinner, of course—by a crystal diviner or a + nose-prophet.” + </p> + <p> + “A nose-prophet! What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “A person who tells your fortune by the shape of your nose.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you understand now that there’s no sillier person in London than + dear Mrs. Bridgeman?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s done a great deal for me, more than I can ever repay.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in introducing me to the real inner circles of idiotcy. Well, in + return, I’ve sworn—” + </p> + <p> + “You too!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing. I beg your pardon. Please go on.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him curiously, and continued. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve sworn—that is, pledged my honour, you know—” + </p> + <p> + “I know! I know!” + </p> + <p> + “To introduce her to at least one thoroughly sensible person—a man, + she prefers.” + </p> + <p> + “And you’ve chosen—?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Tiglath, because he’s the only one I know. Once, I confess, I thought + of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Of me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but of course I didn’t really know you then.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with genuine regard. The Prophet scarcely knew whether + to feel delighted or distressed. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you see, Mr. Vivian, if Sir Tiglath found out for certain that I was + Miss Minerva, he might discover my double life, and if he did that, he is + so sensible that I am sure he would never speak to me again, and I could + not fulfil my vow to dear Mrs. Bridgeman.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite see.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor my other vow to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Which one?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t.” + </p> + <p> + “He only said that about partridges in January, I find, because he + happened to see one of my letters in Jellybrand’s window. He doesn’t + associate that letter with me. So it ought to be all right, and I’ve + arranged my campaign.” + </p> + <p> + “But what can I—?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him with some Scottish craft. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t bother. You’ve got to be my aide-de-camp, that’s all. Ah, here we + are!” + </p> + <p> + For at this moment the horse, with a great effort succeeded in falling + down, for the last time, before the astronomer’s door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <h3> + THE ELABORATE MIND OF MISS MINERVA + </h3> + <p> + On being shown, by an elderly housekeeper with a Berlin wool fringe, into + an old-fashioned oval book-room, Lady Enid and the Prophet discovered the + astronomer sitting there <i>tete-a-tete</i> with a muffin, which lay on a + china plate surrounded by manuscripts, letters, pamphlets, books and + blotting-paper. He was engaged in tracing lines upon an immense sheet of + foolscap with the aid of a ruler and a pair of compasses, and when he + perceived his visitors, he merely rolled his glassy eyes at them, shook + his large head as if in rebuke, and then returned to his occupation + without uttering a word. + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid was in nowise abashed. She looked more sensible even than usual, + and at once commenced her campaign by the remark,— + </p> + <p> + “I know you wonder why I wanted to see you this afternoon, Sir Tiglath. + Well, I’ll tell you at once. Mr. Vivian has persuaded me to act as his + ambassador.” + </p> + <p> + At this very unexpected statement the Prophet started, and was about to + utter what might, perhaps, have taken the form of a carefully-worded + denial, when Lady Enid made a violent face at him, and proceeded, in a + calm manner. + </p> + <p> + “He wishes you to do something for him, and he has confessed to me that he + does not quite like to ask you himself.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing these words the Prophet’s brain, already sorely tried by the + tragic duel which had taken place between himself and the couple who lived + beside the Mouse, temporarily collapsed. He attempted no protest. His mind + indeed was not in a condition to invent one. He simply sat down on a small + pile of astronomical instruments which, with some scientific works, an + encyclopaedia and a pair of carpet slippers, occupied the nearest chair, + and waited in a dazed manner for what would happen next. + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath continued measuring and drawing lines with a very thin pen, + and Lady Enid proceeded further to develop her campaign. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vivian tells me,” she said, “that he has a very old and dear friend + who is most anxious to make your acquaintance—not, of course, for + any idle social purpose, but in order to consult you on some obscure point + connected with astronomy that only you can render clear. Isn’t this so, + Mr. Vivian?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet shifted uneasily on the astronomical instruments, and, + grasping the carpet slippers with one hand to steady himself, in answer to + an authoritative sign from Lady Enid, feebly nodded his head. + </p> + <p> + “But,” Lady Enid continued, apparently warming to her lies, “Mr. Vivian + and his friend, knowing how much your time is taken up by astronomical + research and how intensely valuable it is to the world at large, have not + hitherto dared to intrude upon it, although they have wished to do so for + a very long time, and have even made one attempt—at the Colley + Cibber Club.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet gasped. Sir Tiglath took a bit out of the muffin and returned + to his tracing and measuring. + </p> + <p> + “On that occasion you may remember,” Lady Enid went on with increasing + vivacity and assurance, “you declined to speak. This naturally damped Mr. + Vivian—who is very sensitive, though you might not think it”—here + she cast a glance at the instruments on which the Prophet sat—“and + his friend. So much so, in fact, that unless I had undertaken to act for + them I daresay they would have let the matter drop. Wouldn’t you, Mr. + Vivian?” she added swiftly to the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” he answered, like a creature in a dream. “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “More especially as the friend, Mrs. Vane Bridgeman”—the Prophet at + this point made an inarticulate, but very audible, noise that might have + meant anything, and that did in fact mean “Merciful Heavens! what will + become of me?”—“Mrs. Vane Bridgeman is also of a very retiring + disposition and would hate to put such a man as you are to the slightest + inconvenience.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath took another bite at the muffin, which seemed to be getting + the worst of the <i>tete-a-tete</i>, rummaged among the mess of things + that loaded his table till he found a gigantic book, opened it, and began + to compare some measurements in it with those he had made on the foolscap + paper. His brick-red face glistened in the light of the lamp that stood + beside him. His moist red lips shone, and he seemed totally unaware that + there was anyone in the chamber endeavouring to gain his attention. + </p> + <p> + “In these circumstances, Sir Tiglath,” Lady Enid went on, with pleasant + ease, and a sort of homespun self-possession that trumpeted, like a + military band, her sensibleness, “Mr. Vivian consulted me as to what to + do; whether to give the whole thing up, or to make an appeal to you at the + risk of disturbing you and taking up a little of your precious time. When + he had explained the affair to me, however, I at once felt certain that + you would wish to know of it. Didn’t I, Mr. Vivian? Didn’t I say, only + this afternoon, that we must at once take a four-wheeler to Sir + Tiglath’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you did,” said the Prophet, in a muffled voice. + </p> + <p> + “For I knew that no investigation, no serious, reverent investigation into + heavenly, that is starry, conditions could be indifferent to you, Sir + Tiglath.” + </p> + <p> + The astronomer, who had been in the act of lifting the last morsel of the + muffin to his mouth, put it down again, and Lady Enid, thus vehemently + encouraged, went on more rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “You know of Mr. Vivian’s interest, almost more than interest, in the + planets. This interest is shared, was indeed prompted by Mrs. Bridgeman, a + woman of serious attainments and a cultivated mind. Isn’t she, Mr. + Vivian?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet heard a voice reply, “Oh, yes, she is.” He often wondered + afterwards whether it was his own. + </p> + <p> + “It seems that she, during certain researches, hit upon an idea with + regard to—well, shall I say with regard to certain stars?—which + she communicated to Mr. Vivian in the hope that he would carry it further, + and in fact clear it up. Didn’t she, Mr. Vivian?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, she did,” said a voice, to which the Prophet again listened with + strained attention. + </p> + <p> + “It was in connection with this idea that Mr. Vivian developed his + enthusiasm for the telescope—which led him, perhaps, a little too + far, Sir Tiglath, but I’m sure Mrs. Merillia and you have quite forgotten + that!” + </p> + <p> + Here Lady Enid paused, and the astronomer achieved the final conquest of + the muffin. + </p> + <p> + “He and Mrs. Bridgeman have been, in fact, working together, she being the + brain, as it were, and Mr. Vivian the eye. You’ve been the eye, Mr. + Vivian?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been the eye.” + </p> + <p> + “But, despite all their ardour and assiduity, they have come to a sort of + deadlock. In these circumstances they come to you, making me—as + your, may I say intimate, friend?—their mouthpiece.” + </p> + <p> + Here Lady Enid paused rather definitely, and cast a glance of apparently + violent invitation at the Prophet, as if suggesting that he must now + amplify and fill in her story. As he did not do so, a heavy silence fell + in the room. Sir Tiglath had returned to his measuring, and Lady Enid, for + the first time, began to look slightly embarrassed. Sending her eyes + vaguely about the apartment, as people do on such occasions, she chanced + to see a newspaper lying on the floor near to her. She bent down towards + it, then raising herself up she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Bridgeman some time ago came to the conclusion that there was + probably oxygen in certain stars, and not only in the fixed stars.” + </p> + <p> + At this remark the astronomer’s countenance completely changed. He swung + round in his revolving chair, wagged his huge head from side to side, and + finally roared at the Prophet,— + </p> + <p> + “Is she telling the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said the Prophet, bounding on the instruments. + </p> + <p> + “Get off those precious tools, young man, far more valuable than your + finite carcase! Get off them this moment and answer me—is this young + female speaking the truth?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet got off the instruments and, in answer to a firm, Scottish + gesture from Lady Enid, nodded his head twice. + </p> + <p> + “What!” continued Sir Tiglath, puffing out his cheeks, “a woman be a + pioneer among the Heavenly Bodies!” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet nodded again, as mechanically as a penny toy. + </p> + <p> + “The old astronomer is exercised,” bawled Sir Tiglath, with every symptom + of acute perturbation. “He is greatly exercised by the narrative of the + young female!” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he heaved himself up out of his chair and began to roll rapidly + up and down the room, alternately distending his cheeks and permitting + them to collapse. + </p> + <p> + “I should tell you also, Sir Tiglath,” interposed Lady Enid, as if struck + by a sudden idea, “that Mrs. Bridgeman’s original adviser and assistant in + her astronomical researches was a certain Mr. Sagittarius, who is also an + intimate friend of Mr. Vivian’s.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet sat down again upon the instruments with a thud. + </p> + <p> + “Get off those precious tools, young man!” roared the astronomer + furiously. “Would you impose your vile body upon the henchmen of the + stars?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet got up again and leaned against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “I feel unwell,” he said in a low voice. “Exceedingly unwell. I regret + that I must really be going.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid did not seem to regret this abrupt indisposition. Perhaps she + thought that she had already accomplished her purpose. At any rate she got + up too, and prepared to take leave. The astronomer was still in great + excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this Mr. Sagittarius?” he bellowed. + </p> + <p> + “A man of science. Isn’t he, Mr. Vivian?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “An astronomer of remarkable attainments, Mr. Vivian?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “One knows not his abnormal name,” cried the astronomer. + </p> + <p> + “He is very modest, very retiring. Mrs. Bridgeman’s is really the only + house in London at which you can meet him. Isn’t that so, Mr. Vivian?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You say he has made investigation into the possibility of there being + oxygen in many of the holy stars?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vivian!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “The old astronomer must encounter him!” exclaimed Sir Tiglath, puffing + furiously as he rolled about the room. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vivian will arrange it,” Lady Enid said, with sparkling eyes, “at + Mrs. Bridgeman’s. That’s a bargain. Come, Mr. Vivian!” + </p> + <p> + And almost before the Prophet knew what she was doing, she had maneuvered + him out into Kensington Square, and was pioneering him swiftly towards the + High street. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll take a hansom home,” she said gaily, “and the man can drive as fast + as ever he likes.” + </p> + <p> + In half a minute the Prophet found himself in a hansom, bowling along + towards Mayfair. The first words he said, when he was able to speak, were,— + </p> + <p> + “Why—Mr. Sagittarius—oh, why?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid smiled happily. + </p> + <p> + “It just struck me while I was talking to Sir Tiglath that I would + introduce Mr. Sagittarius into the affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, why?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—because it seemed such an utterly silly thing to do,” she + answered. “Didn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t it?” she repeated. “A thing worthy of Miss Minerva.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to the Prophet just then as if Miss Minerva were going to wreck + his life and prepare him accurately for a future in Bedlam. + </p> + <p> + “And besides you wouldn’t tell me who Mr. Sagittarius was,” she added. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet began to realise that it is very dangerous indeed to deny the + curiosity of a woman. + </p> + <p> + “What a mercy it is,” Lady Enid continued lightly, “that Malkiel is a + syndicate, instead of a man. If he wasn’t, and Sir Tiglath ever got to + know him, he would try to murder him, and how foolish that would be! It + would be rather amusing, though, to see Sir Tiglath do a thoroughly + foolish thing, wouldn’t it!” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet’s blood ran cold in the cab, as he began, for the first time, + to see clearly into the elaborate mind of Miss Minerva, into the curiously + deliberate complications of a definite and determined folly. He perceived + the danger that threatened the prophet who dwelt beside the Mouse, but he + had recovered himself by this time sufficiently to meet craft with craft. + And he therefore answered carelessly,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is lucky that Malkiel’s a syndicate.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached Hill street Lady Enid said,— + </p> + <p> + “I’m so much obliged to you, Mr. Vivian, for all you’ve done for Miss + Minerva.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all.” + </p> + <p> + “The next step is to introduce you to Mrs. Bridgeman, and you can + introduce her to Mr. Sagittarius. Then I’ll introduce Sir Tiglath to her + and she will introduce Mr. Sagittarius to him. It all works out so + beautifully! Thank you a thousand times. You’ll hear from me. Probably + I’ll give you your directions how to act to-morrow. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet drove on to Berkeley Square, feeling that, between Mr. and + Madame Sagittarius and Miss Minerva, he was being rapidly directed to his + doom. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE PROPHET IS INTERVIEWED BY TWO KIDS + </h3> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand met the Prophet in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “I have done as you directed, sir,” he said respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “As I directed, Mr. Ferdinand? I was not aware that I ever directed + anybody,” replied the Prophet, suspecting irony. + </p> + <p> + “I understood you to say, sir, that if any more telegrams was to arrive, I + was to burn them, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Telegrams! Good Heavens! You don’t mean to say that—” + </p> + <p> + “There has been some seventeen or eighteen, sir. I have burnt them, sir, + to ashes, according to your orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, Mr. Ferdinand,” said the Prophet, putting his hand up to his + hair, to feel if it were turning grey. “Quite right. How is—how, I + say, is Mrs. Merillia?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Master Hennessey, she’s not dead yet.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Ferdinand, with a contorted countenance moved towards the + servants’ hall. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet stood quite still with his hat and coat on for several + minutes. An amazing self-possession had come to him, the unnatural + self-possession of despair. He felt quite calm, as the statue of a dead + alderman feels on the embankment of its native city. Nothing seemed to + matter at all. He might have been Marcus Aurelius—till a loud double + knock came to the front door. Then he might have been any dangerous + lunatic, ripe for a strait waistcoat. Mr. Ferdinand approached. The + Prophet faced him. + </p> + <p> + “Kindly retire, Mr. Ferdinand,” he said in a very quiet voice. “I will + answer that knock.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand retired rather rapidly. The knock was repeated. The Prophet + opened the door. A telegraph boy, about two and a half feet high, stood + outside upon the step. + </p> + <p> + “Telegram, sir,” he said in a thin voice. + </p> + <p> + “Give it to me, my lad,” replied the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + The small boy handed the telegram and turned to depart. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment, my lad,” said the Prophet, very gently. + </p> + <p> + The small boy waited. + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish to be strangled, my lad?” asked the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + The small boy tried to recoil, but his terror rooted him firmly to the + spot. + </p> + <p> + “Do all the other boys at the office wish to be strangled?” continued the + Prophet. “Come, my lad, why don’t you answer me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” whispered the small boy, passing his little tongue over his + pale lips. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, my lad, the next boy who brings a telegram to this house will + be strangled, do you understand that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” sighed the small boy, like a terror-stricken Zephyr. + </p> + <p> + “That’s right. Good-night, my lad.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet closed the street door very softly, and the small boy dropped + fainting on the pavement and was carried to the nearest hospital on a + stretcher by two dutiful policemen. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the Prophet opened the telegram and read as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “Insufferable insolence. How dare you; shall pay dearly; with you + to-morrow first ‘bus. + </p> + <p> + “JUPITER AND MADAME SAGITTARIUS.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ferdinand!” called the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I am about to write a telegram. Gustavus will take it to the office.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet went into the library and wrote these words on a telegraph + form:— + </p> + <p> + “Jupiter Sagittarius, Sagittarius Lodge, Crampton St. Peter, N. Your life + is in danger; keep where you are; another telegram may destroy you. Grave + news. + </p> + <p> + “VIVIAN.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet gave this telegram to Gustavus and then prepared to go + upstairs to his grandmother. As he mounted towards the drawing-room he + murmured to himself over and over again,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir Tiglath—Malkiel! Malkiel—Sir Tiglath!” + </p> + <p> + He found Mrs. Merillia very prostrate. It seemed that the telegraph boys + had very soon worn through the cotton-wool with which the knocker had been + shrouded, and that the incessant noise of their efforts to attract + attention at the door had quite unnerved the gallant old lady. + Nevertheless, her own condition was the last thing she thought of. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mind for myself, Hennessey,” she said. “But it is very sad after + all these years of respect and even, I think, a certain popularity, to be + considered a nuisance by one’s square. We are hopelessly embroiled with + the Duchess of Camberwell, and the Lord Chancellor has sent over five + times to explain the different laws and regulations that we are breaking. + I don’t see how you can go to his Reception to-night, really.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not going, grannie,” said the Prophet, overwhelmed with contrition. + “I cannot go in any case.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I have some work to do at home.” + </p> + <p> + He avoided the glance of her bright eyes, and continued. + </p> + <p> + “Grannie, I am deeply grieved at all you have gone through to-day. Believe + me it has not been my fault—at least not entirely. I may have been + injudicious, but I never—never—” + </p> + <p> + He paused, quite overcome with emotion. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what will happen if the telegrams go on till midnight,” said + Mrs. Merillia. “The Duke of Camberwell is a very violent man, since he had + that sunstroke at the last Jubilee, and I shouldn’t wonder if he—” + </p> + <p> + “Grannie, there will not be any more telegrams.” + </p> + <p> + “But you said that before, Hennessey.” + </p> + <p> + “And I say it again. There will not be any more. I have just informed the + messenger that the next boy who knocks will certainly be—well, + destroyed.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia breathed a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + “I am so thankful, Hennessey. Are you dining out to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “No, grannie. I don’t feel very well. I have a headache. I shall go and + lie down for a little.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do. Everybody is lying down; Fancy, the upper housemaid, the cook. + Even Gustavus, they tell me, is trying to snatch a little uneasy repose on + his what-not. It has been a terrible day.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia lay back and closed her eyes, and the Prophet, overwhelmed + with remorse, retired to his room, lay down and stared desperately at + nothing for half an hour. He then ate, with a very poor appetite, a morsel + of dinner and prepared to take, if possible, a short nap before starting + on the labours of the night. As he got up from the dining table to go + upstairs he said to Mr. Ferdinand,— + </p> + <p> + “By the way, Mr. Ferdinand, if I should come into the pantry again + to-night, don’t be alarmed. I may chance to require a bradawl as I did + last night. Kindly leave one out, in case I should. But you need not sit + up.” + </p> + <p> + As the Prophet said the last words he looked Mr. Ferdinand full in the + face. The butler’s eyes fell. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Master Hennessey, I shall be glad to get to bed—entirely + to bed—in good time. We are all a bit upset in the kit—that is + the hall to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so. Retire to rest at once if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Gustavus,” said Mr. Ferdinand, a moment later in the servants’ hall, “you + are a man of the world, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + Gustavus roused himself on his what-not. + </p> + <p> + “I am, Mr. Ferdinand,” he replied, in a pale and exhausted manner. + </p> + <p> + “Then tell me, Gustavus, have you ever lived in service with a gentleman + who was partial to a bradawl—of a night, you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never, Mr. Ferdinand. The nearest to it ever I got was the Bishop of + Clapham.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself, Gustavus, I beg.” + </p> + <p> + “He used to ask for a nip sometimes before retiring, Mr. Ferdinand.” + </p> + <p> + “A nip, Gustavus?” + </p> + <p> + “Warm water, with a slice of toast in it. But he was only what they call a + suburban bishop, Mr. Ferdinand.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! a nip is hardly on all fours with a bradawl, Gustavus.” + </p> + <p> + “P’r’aps not, Mr. Ferdinand, but it’s the nearest ever I got to it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand said no more, but when he retired to rest that night he + double-locked his door, and dreamt of bradawls till he woke, unrefreshed, + the next morning to find the area full of telegrams. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the Prophet was conscientiously fulfilling his promise and + keeping the oath he had pledged his honour over, although he had to work + under a grave disadvantage in the total loss of his planisphere, or + star-map. + </p> + <p> + He entered the butler’s pantry precisely on the stroke of eleven, and + found it, to his great relief, untenanted. The dwarf was no longer at the + telescope, and the silence in the region dedicated to Mrs. Merillia’s + menials was profound. The night, too, was clear and starry, propitious for + prophetic labours, and as the Prophet gazed out upon the deserted square + through the open window a strange peace descended upon his fevered soul. + Nature, with all her shining mysteries, her distant reticences and + revelations, calmed the turmoil within him. He looked upon the area + railings and upon the sky, and smiled. + </p> + <p> + Then he looked for the star-map. He perceived in a very prominent position + upon a silver salver, the bradawl laid out, according to order, by the + obedient Mr. Ferdinand. He perceived also the open pot of “Butler’s Own + Special Pomade,” but the planisphere had been removed from it. Where could + it have been bestowed? The Prophet instituted a careful search. He + explored cupboards, drawers—such at least as were unlocked—in + vain. He glanced into a silver teapot reposing on a shelf, between the + pages of an almanac hanging on the wall, among some back numbers of the <i>Butler’s + Gazette</i>, which were lying in a corner. But the planisphere was nowhere + to be found, and at last in despair he resolved to do without it, and to + trust to his fairly accurate knowledge of the heavens. He, therefore, took + up his station by the window and proceeded to extract from the pocket of + his smoking-jacket the account-book in which he had dotted down the + directions of “Madame and self.” They were very vague, for his dots had + been agitated. Still, by the help of the George the Third candlestick, in + which was a lighted taper, the Prophet was able to make out enough to + refresh his memory. He was to begin by placing his beloved grandmother in + the claws of the crab. Leaning upon the sill of the window he found the + crab and—breathing a short prayer for forgiveness—committed + his dear relation to its offices. He then retreated and, assuming very + much the position of Mr. Ferdinand, applied his right eye to the + telescope, at the same time holding his left eye firmly shut with the + forefinger of his left hand. At once the majesty of the starry heavens + burst upon him in all its glory. + </p> + <p> + Exactly at half-past one o’clock, two hours and a half later, the + enthralled Prophet heard a low whistle which seemed to reach him from the + square. He withdrew his fascinated right eye from the telescope and + endeavoured to use it in an ordinary manner, but he could at first see + nothing. The low whistle was repeated. It certainly did come from the + square, and the Prophet approached the open window and once more tried to + compel the eye that had looked so long upon the stars to gaze with + understanding upon the earth. This time he perceived a black thing, like a + blot, about six feet high, beyond the area railings. From this blot came a + third whistle. The Prophet, who was still dazed by the fascination of + star-gazing, mechanically whistled in reply, whereupon the blot whispered + at him huskily,— + </p> + <p> + “At it again, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” whispered the Prophet, also huskily, for the night air was cold. + “But how should you know?” + </p> + <p> + Indeed he wondered; and it seemed to him as if the blot were some strange + night thing that must have companioned him, invisibly, when he kept his + nocturnal watches in the drawing-room, and that now partially revealed + itself to him in the, perhaps, more acutely occult region of the basement. + </p> + <p> + “How should I know!” rejoined the blot with obvious, though very hoarse, + irony. “Whatever d’you take me for?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet began to wonder, but before he had gone on wondering for more + than about half a minute, the blot continued,— + </p> + <p> + “She’s gone to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I know she has,” said the Prophet, presuming that the blot, which seemed + instinct with all knowledge, was referring to his grandmother. + </p> + <p> + “But she knows you’re at it again,” continued the blot. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet started violently and leaned upon the window-sill. + </p> + <p> + “No! How can that be?” he ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “Ho! Them girls knows everything, especially the old uns,” said the blot, + with an audible chuckle. + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” gasped the Prophet, overwhelmed at this mysterious + visitant’s familiar description of his revered grandmother. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen her to-night?” inquired the blot, controlling its + merriment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Prophet. “With the Crab.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried the blot, in obvious astonishment. “Them instruments must be + wonderful sight-carriers.” + </p> + <p> + “They are,” exclaimed the Prophet, with almost mystic enthusiasm. + “Wonderful. I have seen her with the Crab distinctly.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! well, I told her she ought to keep away from it,” continued the blot. + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” said the Prophet, with increasing surprise. “But how could + she?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that’s just it! She couldn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not.” + </p> + <p> + “She was drawn right to it.” + </p> + <p> + “She was. It wasn’t her fault. It was the Crab’s.” + </p> + <p> + “A pity it was dressed.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “I say it’s a pity ‘twas dressed.” + </p> + <p> + “What was dressed?” + </p> + <p> + “What! why, the Crab!” + </p> + <p> + “The Crab—dressed!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay. They’re a deal safer not dressed.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they?” + </p> + <p> + “She knows it too.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she?” + </p> + <p> + “But there—them women likes a spice of danger. She’s in a nice state + now, you bet. Not much sleep for her, I’ll lay. Well, I tried to keep her + from it, so you needn’t blame me.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t,” said the Prophet, feeling completely dazed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, go’-night. I’m off round the square.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a blinding flash of light dazzled his eyes. He covered them with + his hands. When he could see again the blot was gone. + </p> + <p> + Although he was retired to rest that night when the clock struck three, + the Prophet did not sleep. His nervous system was in a condition of acute + excitement. His brain felt like a burning ball, and the palms of his hands + were hot with fever. For the spirit of prophecy was upon him once more, + and he was bound fast in the golden magic of the stars. Like the morphia + maniac who, after valiant fasting, returning to his drug, feels its + influence the stronger for his abstinence from it, the Prophet was + conscious that the heavens held more power, more meaning for him because, + for a while, he had intended to neglect them. He was ravaged by their + mystery, their majesty and revelation. + </p> + <p> + When he came down in the morning pale, dishevelled, but informed by a + curious dignity, he was met at once by Mr. Ferdinand. + </p> + <p> + “I have cleared the area, sir,” said the functionary. + </p> + <p> + “The area, Mr. Ferdinand. What of?” + </p> + <p> + “Telegrams, sir. The boys must have thrown ‘em down without knocking.” + </p> + <p> + “Very probably,” replied the Prophet. “Their comrade was right. They did + not wish to be strangled.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. And I have placed them in a basket on the breakfast table, sir, + while awaiting your orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, Mr. Ferdinand. By the way, here is the bradawl. Leave it out + again to-night in case I have need of it.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the Prophet handed the bradawl, which he had craftily conveyed + from the pantry on the previous night, to the astonished butler and walked + swiftly into the breakfast-room. The basket of telegrams was set outside + beside a fried sole and the “equipage” which Madame had so much admired, + and, while he sipped his tea, the Prophet opened the wires one by one. + They were fraught with terror and dismay. Evidently his mysterious warning + had thrown the worthies who dwelt beside the Mouse into a condition of the + very gravest amazement and alarm, and they had, despite the Prophet’s + final injunction, spent the remaining telegraphic hours of the day in + despatching wires of frantic inquiry to the square. Madame, in particular, + was evidently much upset, and expressed her angry agitation in a dead + language that seemed positively to live again in fear and novelty of + grammatical construction. Sir Tiglath had been a brilliant card to play in + the prophetic game, although he had not achieved the Prophet’s purpose of + stopping the telegraphic flood. + </p> + <p> + While the Prophet was simultaneously finishing the fried sole and the + perusal of the final wire Mr. Ferdinand entered, in a condition of obvious + astonishment that might well have cost him his place. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir,” he said, in an up-and-down voice, “if you please + there are two—two—two—” + </p> + <p> + “Two what? Be more explicit, Mr. Ferdinand.” + </p> + <p> + “Two—well, sir, kids at the door waiting for you to see them, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Two kids! What—from the goat show that’s going on at the + Westminster Aquarium!” cried the Prophet in great surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe, sir. I can’t say, indeed, sir. Am I to show them in, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Show them in! Are you gone mad, Mr. Ferdinand? They must be driven out at + once. If Mrs. Merillia were to see them, she might be greatly alarmed. + I’ll—I’ll—follow me, Mr. Ferdinand, closely.” + </p> + <p> + So saying the Prophet stepped valiantly into the hall. There, by the + umbrella stand, stood two small children, boy and girl, very neatly + dressed in a sailor suit and a grey merino. The little boy held in his + hand a large round straw hat, on the blue riband of which was inscribed in + letters of gold, “H.M.S. Hercules.” The little girl wore a pleasant + pigtail tied with a riband of the same hue. + </p> + <p> + The meaning of Mr. Ferdinand’s vulgar and misleading slang suddenly dawned + on the Prophet. He cast a look of very grave rebuke on Mr. Ferdinand, + then, walking up to the little boy and girl he said in his most + ingratiating manner,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, my little ones, what can I do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so little, if you please, Mr. Vivian,” replied the boy in a piping, + but very self-possessed voice. “Can we see you in private for a moment?” + </p> + <p> + “If you please, Mr. Vivian,” added the little girl. “Si sit prudentium.” + </p> + <p> + “Dentia, Corona,” corrected the little boy. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet turned white to the very lips. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, certainly,” he said in a violently furtive manner. “Come this + way, my children. Mr. Ferdinand, if Mrs. Merillia should inquire for me, + you will say that I’m busy writing—no, no, just busy—very + busy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not to be disturbed. This way, my little ones.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so little, Mr. Vivian,” piped again the small boy, trotting + obediently, with his sister, into the Prophet’s library, the door of which + was immediately closed behind them. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m—” said Mr. Ferdinand. “Kids in the library! I am—Gustavus!” + </p> + <p> + He rushed frenetically towards the servants’ hall to confer upon the + situation with his intellectual subordinate. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the Prophet was closeted with the two kids. + </p> + <p> + “Pray sit down,” he said, very nervously, and smiling forcibly. “Pray sit + down, my dears.” + </p> + <p> + The kids obeyed with aplomb, keeping their large and strained eyes fixed + upon the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Is it Coronus and Capricorna?” continued the Prophet, with an effort + after blithe familiarity. “Is it?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” piped the little boy. “It isn’t Coronus and Capricorna.” + </p> + <p> + A marvellous sensation of relief invaded the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven!” he ejaculated in a sigh. “I thought it must be.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s Corona and Capricornus,” continued the little boy. “And we’ve + brought you a letter from pater familias.” + </p> + <p> + “And mater familiaris,” added the little girl. + </p> + <p> + “Milias, Corona,” corrected the little boy. “Here it is, Mr. Vivian,” he + added, drawing a large missive from the breast of his blue-and-white + sailor’s blouse. “Pater and mater familias couldn’t bring it themselves, + because he said it wasn’t safe for him to come, and she’s lying down ill + at what you sent to her. It wasn’t kind of you, was it?” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he handed the missive to the Prophet, who took it anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like some cake, my lit—I mean, my dears, while I read + this?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you. Cake is bad for us in the morning,” replied the little + boy. “You shouldn’t eat it so early.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet was about to reply that he never did when it struck him that + argument would probably be useless. He, therefore, hastened to open the + letter, which proved to be from Mr. Sagittarius, and which ran as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “SIR,—Your terrible and mysterious wire, coming after your equally + terrible and mysterious silence, has caused devastation in a hitherto + peaceful and happy family. To what peril do you allude? What creature can + there be so base as to wish to take my life merely on account of my + sending you telegrams? Madame has been driven to despair by your + announcement, and I, myself, although no ordinary man, am, very rightly + and properly, going about in fear of my life since receipt of your last + telegram. Under these circs, and being unable to wait upon you ourselves + for a full explanation, we are sending our very life-blood to you—per + rail and ‘bus—with strict orders to bring you at once to the banks + of the Mouse, there to confer with Madame and self and arrange such + measures of precaution as are suited to the requirements of the situation + as indicated by you. + </p> + <p> + “JUPITER SAGITTARIUS. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—You are to bring with you, according to solemn oath, all + prophecy concerning grandmother, Crab, etc., gathered up to date, together + with full details of same’s removal from the bottle, cutting of her first + tooth, short-coating, going into skirts, putting of hair up, day of + marriage and widowhood, illnesses—especially rashes—and so + forth. <i>Ab origino</i>. + </p> + <p> + “MADAME SAGITTARIUS.” + </p> + <p> + On reading this communication the Prophet felt that all further struggle + was useless. Fate—cruel and remorseless Fate—had him in her + grasp. He could only bow his head and submit to her horrible decrees. He + could only go upstairs and at once prepare for the journey to the Mouse. + </p> + <p> + He laid the letter down and got up, fixing his eyes upon the kids, who sat + solemnly awaiting his further procedure. + </p> + <p> + “You—I suppose you know, my little ones, what this—what you + have to do?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Not so little, if you please, Mr. Vivian,” returned the boy. “Yes, we’ve + got to take you with us to see pater familias.” + </p> + <p> + “And mater familiar—familias,” added the little girl. + </p> + <p> + “I see—you know,” said the Prophet, in a despairing voice. “Very + well. Wait here quietly—very quietly, while I go and get ready.” + </p> + <p> + “And please don’t forget the Crab and grandmother, rashes, et ceterus,” + said the little girl. + </p> + <p> + “Tera Corona,” piped her brother. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t,” said the Prophet. “I will not.” + </p> + <p> + And he tottered out of the room, carrying the Sagittarius letter in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + In the hall he paused for a moment, holding on to the balusters and + re-reading his directions. Then he crawled slowly up the stairs and sought + his grandmother’s room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <h3> + THE PROPHET JOURNEYS TO THE MOUSE + </h3> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia was just beginning to recover from the prostration of the + preceding day when the Prophet came into the room where she was seated + with Mrs. Fancy Quinglet. She looked up at him almost brightly, but + started when she saw how agitated he seemed. + </p> + <p> + “Grannie,” said the Prophet, abruptly, “you would tell me anything, + wouldn’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course, my dear boy. But what about?” + </p> + <p> + “About—about yourself?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia looked very much astonished. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to hide, Hennessey,” she said with gentle dignity. “You + know that.” + </p> + <p> + “I do, I do,” cried the Prophet, passionately. “Yours has been the best, + the sweetest life the world has ever known!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t wish to imply—” + </p> + <p> + “But I do, grannie, I do. Can Fancy leave us for a moment?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Fancy, you can go to your tatting.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr Hennessey has something to explain to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ma’am, the houses that have been broke up by explainings!” + </p> + <p> + And with this, as the Prophet thought, appallingly appropriate + exclamation, Mrs. Fancy hurried feverishly from the room. + </p> + <p> + “Now what is the question you wish to ask me, Hennessey?” said Mrs. + Merillia, with a soft dignity. + </p> + <p> + “There are—one moment—there are eight questions, grannie,” + responded the Prophet, shrinking visibly before the dread necessity by + which he found himself confronted. + </p> + <p> + “Eight! So many?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, oh, indeed, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, and what are they?” + </p> + <p> + “The first is—is—grannie, when were you removed from—from + the bottle?” + </p> + <p> + A very delicate flush crept into Mrs. Merillia’s charming cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “The bottle, Hennessey! Never, never!” she said, with a sort of pathetic + indignation. “How could you suppose—I—the bottle—” + </p> + <p> + Her pretty old voice died away. + </p> + <p> + “Answered, darling grannie, answered!” ejaculated the Prophet. “Please—please + don’t! And now—your first tooth?” + </p> + <p> + “My first what!” cried Mrs. Merillia in almost terrified amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Tooth—when did you cut it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea. Surely, Hennessey—” + </p> + <p> + “Answered, dearest grannie!” cried the Prophet, with gathering agitation. + “Did you ever wear a short coat?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I’m not a man!” + </p> + <p> + “You didn’t! Always a skirt?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! Why—” + </p> + <p> + “And you’re sixty-eight on the twentieth. So for sixty-eight years you’ve + always worn a skirt. That’s four.” + </p> + <p> + “Four what? Are you—?” + </p> + <p> + “When did you put your hair up, grannie, darling?” + </p> + <p> + “My hair—never. You know I’ve always had a maid to do these things + for me. Fancy—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. You’ve never put your hair up. I might have known. You were + married very young, weren’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes. On my seventeenth birthday, and was left a widow in exactly two + years’ time. Your poor dear granf—” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, grannie, thank you! Seven!” + </p> + <p> + “Seven what, Hennessey? One would th—” + </p> + <p> + “And now, dear grannie, tell me one thing, only one little thing more. + About—that is, talking of rashes—” + </p> + <p> + “Rashers!” + </p> + <p> + “No, grannie, rashes—illnesses, you know, that take an epidemic + form.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what about them? Surely there isn’t an epidemic in the square?” + </p> + <p> + “How many have you had, grannie?” + </p> + <p> + “Where? Had what?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, anywhere in the square, grannie.” + </p> + <p> + “Had what in the square?” + </p> + <p> + “Rashes.” + </p> + <p> + “I! Have a rash in the square!” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. Have you ever—an epidemic, you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I have an epidemic in Berkeley Square? You must be crazy, Hennessey!” + </p> + <p> + “Probably, very likely, grannie. But have you? Tell me quickly! Have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not! As if any gentlewoman—” + </p> + <p> + “Answered, grannie, answered! Eight!” + </p> + <p> + “Eight what?” + </p> + <p> + “Questions. Thank you, dearest grannie. I knew you’d tell me, I knew you + would!” + </p> + <p> + And the Prophet rushed from the room, leaving Mrs. Merillia in a condition + that cannot be described and that not all the subsequent ministrations of + Mrs. Fancy Quinglet were able to alleviate. + </p> + <p> + Having reached the hall, the Prophet hastily put on his coat and hat and + called Mr. Ferdinand to him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ferdinand,” he said, assuming a fixed and stony dignity to conceal + his agitation and dismay, “I am leaving the house at once with the—the + lady and gentleman who are in the library.” + </p> + <p> + At this description of the kids Mr. Ferdinand was very nearly seized with + convulsions. However, as he said nothing and merely wrung his large hands, + the Prophet, after a slight pause, continued,— + </p> + <p> + “I may be away some time, so if Mrs. Merillia should make any inquiry, you + will say that I have left to pay a visit to some friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Shall I tell Gustavus to pack your things?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet was turning towards the library when Mr. Ferdinand added,— + </p> + <p> + “When shall we expect you back, sir? Am I to forward your letters?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I shall return in a few hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I beg pardon, sir. And if any telegrams—” + </p> + <p> + “There will not be any. I am now going to answer the telegrams in person.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Come along, my children,” cried the Prophet, putting his head into the + library. + </p> + <p> + “Not your children, if you please, Mr. Vivian,” replied the little boy. + “Corona, come on.” + </p> + <p> + “How do we go, my dears?” asked the Prophet, with an attempt at gaiety, + and endeavouring to ignore the prostrated demeanour of Mr. Ferdinand, who + was in waiting to open the hall door. + </p> + <p> + “By the purple ‘bus as far as the Pork Butcher’s Rest,” piped the little + boy—(at this point Mr. Ferdinand could not refrain from a slight + exclamation)—“then we take the train to the Mouse, Mouse, Mouse.” + </p> + <p> + “Mus, Mus, Mus,” chanted the little girl. + </p> + <p> + As Mr. Ferdinand was unable to open the door, paralysis having apparently + supervened, the Prophet did so, and the cheerful little party emerged upon + the step to find Lady Enid Thistle in the very act of pressing the + electric bell. When she beheld the vivacious trio, all agog for their + morning’s expedition, come thus suddenly upon her, she cried out + musically,— + </p> + <p> + “Why, where are you off to?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet was much embarrassed by the encounter. + </p> + <p> + “I am taking these lit”—he caught the staring eye of Capricornus—“these + friends of mine for a little walk,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll come with you,” said Lady Enid, with an almost Highland decision. + “I’ve got something to say to you, and we can talk as we go.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced very inquisitively indeed at the two children, who had begun + to frisk at sight of the square all bathed in winter sunshine. The Prophet + was very much upset. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you think—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “It will be delightful to have some exercise,” she interrupted firmly. + “Which way are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “Which way! Oh, to—towards—” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet stopped. He did not know from what point the purple ‘bus + started to gain the Pork Butcher’s Rest. Capricornus hastened to inform + him. + </p> + <p> + “We take the purple ‘bus at the corner of Air Street,” he piped. + </p> + <p> + “The purple ‘bus!” cried Lady Enid. “The purple bus!” + </p> + <p> + She glanced searchingly at the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she murmured, “so you are taking a purple ‘bus to your double life!” + </p> + <p> + He could not deny it. They were now all walking forward in the sun and as + the little Corona and Capricornus became speedily intent upon the wonders + of this central district, Lady Enid and the Prophet were able to have a + quiet word or two together. + </p> + <p> + “I came to tell you,” she said, “that Mrs. Vane Bridgeman will expect you + to-night at—” + </p> + <p> + “I am engaged at eleven,” cried the Prophet, in despair at the imposition + of this fresh burden upon his weary shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I know. To the Lord Chancellor, but—” + </p> + <p> + “No. I have an engagement which I dare not break, at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” + </p> + <p> + She gazed at him with her large, handsome grey eyes, and added,— + </p> + <p> + “I do believe you’re silly enough to live your double life at home + sometimes. How splendid!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! I assure you—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you do! You dear foolish thing! You’re ever so much sillier + than I am. You’re my master.” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, no, no!” + </p> + <p> + “But you can go to Mrs. Bridgeman’s for an hour easily. She expects you + and I’ve promised that you will go.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s very kind of you, but really—” + </p> + <p> + “So that’s settled. You’ll meet me there, but don’t forget I’m Miss + Minerva Partridge. The address is Zoological House, Regent’s Park, that + big house in a garden just outside the Zoo.” + </p> + <p> + “The big house in the Zoological Gardens,” said the Prophet, feebly. + “Thank you very much.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, outside the Zoo. And then we can arrange to-night about your + introducing her to Mr. Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Hush!” whispered the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + But he was too late. The long ears of the little pitchers had caught the + well-known word. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that’s pater familias,” piped the little Capricornus. + </p> + <p> + “And mater familiaris,” added the little Corona. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean to say,” cried Lady Enid to the Prophet, “that these are + the children of Mr. Sagittarius?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet bent his head. + </p> + <p> + “How very interesting!” said Lady Enid. “Everything is working out most + beautifully. I must get them some chocolates.” + </p> + <p> + And she immediately stepped into a confectioner’s and came out with a + beautiful box of bon-bons, tied with amethyst ribbon, which she gave to + the delighted children. + </p> + <p> + “I know your dear father,” she said. “At least I know who he is.” + </p> + <p> + And she looked firmly at the Prophet, who dropped his eyes. They were now + at the corner of Air Street, and the purple ‘bus could be seen looming + brilliantly in the distance. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Lady Enid,” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’ll see you off,” she replied, evidently resolved to satisfy some + further, unexpressed curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “There it is!” cried Capricornus. “It’s coming! There it is!” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it pretty?” shrieked the little Corona, who was evidently growing + much excited by the chocolates and the centralness of the whole thing. + “Let’s go on the top! Let’s go on the top!” + </p> + <p> + She began to jump on the pavement, and her brother was just about to + follow her example when some sudden idea struck him into gravity. He + turned to the Prophet and exclaimed solemnly,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you please, Mr. Vivian, have you got the crab with you?” + </p> + <p> + “The crab!” cried Lady Enid, with much vivacity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, my boy, it’s all right!” said the Prophet, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “Not your boy, if you please, Mr. Vivian,” returned the little inquisitor. + “And have you got the fist tooth?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “And the rashes, and the honoured grandmother, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got everything,” cried the Prophet, “every single thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Because mater familias said I was to make you bring them if I stayed for + them all day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, they’re all here—every one.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid was gazing at the Prophet’s slim form with almost passionate + curiosity. It was evidently a problem to her how he had managed to conceal + so many various commodities about his person without altering his shape. + However, she had no time to study the matter, for at this moment the + purple ‘bus jerked along the kerb, and the voice of the conductor was + heard crying,— + </p> + <p> + “Pork Butcher’s Rest! All the way one penny! Pork—penny—all + the way—Butcher’s—Rest—one—Pork—all—Pork—penny—Pork—Butcher’s— + Pork—Rest—Pork—penny!” + </p> + <p> + With a hasty farewell the Prophet, accompanied, and indeed closely + clutched, by the little Corona and Capricornus, scrambled fanatically, and + not without two or three heavy falls, to the summit of the ‘bus, while + Lady Enid read the legend printed on it with a smile, ere she turned to + walk home, putting two and two together, and thinking, with keen feminine + satisfaction, how useless in the long run are all the negatives of man. + </p> + <p> + In later years, though many memories intervene, the Prophet will never + forget his journey to the banks of the Mouse. Always it seemed very + strange to him and dream-like, that everlasting journey upon the purple + ‘bus, complicated by the chatter of the younger scions of the Malkiel + dynasty, and by the shrill cries of the conductor summoning the passers-by + to hasten to that place of repose consecrated to the worthy and + hard-working individuals who drew their modest incomes from the pig. The + character of the streets changed as the central districts were left + behind, and a curious scent, the scent of Suburbia, seemed to float + between the tall chimneys in the morose atmosphere. The purple chariot, + which rolled on and on like the chariot of Fate, drew gradually away from + the large thoroughfares into mean streets, whose air of dull gentility was + for ever autumnal, and the Prophet, on passing some gigantic gasworks, + mechanically wondered whether it might not, perhaps, be that monument to + whose shadow Malkiel the First had lived and died. Once, looking up at the + black sky, he remarked to the little Capricornus that it was evidently + going to rain. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Vivian,” replied the boy. “It won’t rain hard this week. + January’s a fine month, but there’ll be heavy floods in March, especially + along the banks of the Thames.” + </p> + <p> + “And in February there’ll be such a lot of scarlet fever in the southern + portions of England,” added the little Corona. “Oh, Corney, just look at + that kitty on the airey railings!” + </p> + <p> + “Area, Corona,” corrected her brother. “Oh, my! ain’t it funny?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet remembered that he was travelling with the scions of a + prophetic house. + </p> + <p> + It seemed many years before the ‘bus stopped before a brick building full + of quart pots, situated upon a gentle eminence sloping to a coal-yard, and + the voice of the conductor proclaimed that the place of repose was + reached. The Prophet and his diminutive guides descended from the roof and + were shortly in a train puffing between the hunched backs of abominable + little houses, sooty as street cats and alive with crying babies. Then + bits of waste land appeared, bald wildernesses in which fragments of + broken crockery hibernated with old tin cans and kettles yellow as dying + leaves. A furtive brown rivulet wandered here and there like a thing + endeavouring to conceal itself and unable to find a hiding-place. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the Mouse, Mr. Vivian,” remarked Capricornus, proudly. “We shall + soon be there.” + </p> + <p> + “Ridiculum mus,” rejoined his sister, who evidently took after her learned + mother. + </p> + <p> + “Culus, Corona; and you’re not to say that. Pater familias says that the + Mouse is a noble stream. We get out here, Mr. Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + Here proved to be a wayside station on the very bank of the noble stream, + and on the edge of a piece of waste ground so large that it might almost + have been called country. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet and the two kids set off across this earth, which was named by + the inhabitants “the Common.” In the distance rose a fringe of detached + brick and stone villas towards which Capricornus now pointed a forefinger + that trembled with pride. + </p> + <p> + “That’s where we live,” he said, in a voice that was grown squeaky from + conceit. + </p> + <p> + “Dulce domus,” piped his sister, clutching the skirt of the Prophet’s + coat, and, thus supported, performing several very elaborate dancing steps + upon the clayey soil over which he was feebly staggering. “Dulce dulce, + dulce domus. Look at that rat, Corney!” + </p> + <p> + A large, raking rodent, indeed, at that instant emerged from the wreckage + of what had once been a copper cauldron near by, and walked slowly away + towards a slope of dust garnished with broken bottles and abandoned + cabbage stalks. The Prophet shuddered and longed to flee, but the two + kids, as if divining his thought, now clasped his hands and led him firmly + forward to a yellow villa, fringed with white Bath stone and garnished + plentifully with griffins. From its flat front shot ostentatiously forth a + porch adorned with Roman columns which commanded a near view of the Mouse, + and before the porch was a small garden in which several healthy-looking + nettles had made their home. + </p> + <p> + As the Prophet and the two kids approached this delightful abode, a white + face appeared, gluing itself to the pane of an upper window. + </p> + <p> + “There’s pater familias!” piped Capricornus. “Don’t he look ill?” + </p> + <p> + As they mounted the flight of imitation marble steps the face disappeared + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “He’s coming to let us in,” said Capricornus. “You’re sure you’ve brought + the crab and all the rashes?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Because, if you haven’t, I don’t know whatever mater familias’ll—” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the portal of the lodge was furtively opened about half an + inch, and a very small segment of ashen-coloured human face, containing a + large and apprehensive eye, was shown in the aperture. + </p> + <p> + “Are you alone?” said the hollow voice of Mr. Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + “Quite, quite alone,” said the Prophet, reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, pater familias!” cried Capricornus. “He’s brought all the + rashes and the first tooth and everything. I made him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think he wanted to,” added the little Corona, suddenly developing + malice. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve taken this long journey, Mr. Sagittarius,” said the Prophet, with a + remnant of self-respect, “at your special request. Am I to be permitted to + come in?” + </p> + <p> + “If you’re sure you’re quite alone,” returned the sage, showing a slightly + enlarged segment of face. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite sure—positive!” + </p> + <p> + At this the door was opened just sufficiently to admit the passage of one + thin person at a time, and, in single file, the Prophet, Corona and + Capricornus passed into the lodge. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <h3> + THE PROPHET CREATES A DIVERSION AT HIS OWN EXPENSE + </h3> + <p> + On stepping into a small vestibule, paved with black and white lozenges, + and fitted up with an iron umbrella stand, a Moorish lamp and a large + yellow china pug dog, the Prophet found himself at once faced by Mr. + Sagittarius, whose pallid countenance, nervous eye and suspicious + demeanour plainly proclaimed him to be, as he had stated, very rightly and + properly going about in fear of his life. + </p> + <p> + “Go to the schoolroom, my darlings,” he whispered to his children. “Why, + what have you there?” + </p> + <p> + “Choclets,” said Capricornus. + </p> + <p> + “From the pretty lady, mulius pulchrum,” added the little Corona. + </p> + <p> + “Who is a mulibus pulchrum, my love?” asked Mr. Sagittarius, before + Capricornus had time to correct his sister’s Latin. + </p> + <p> + “It was Miss Minerva,” said the Prophet. “We happened to meet her.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sir. Run away, my pretties, and don’t eat more than one each, or + mater familias will not approve.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as the little ones disappeared into the shadows of the region above, + he added to the Prophet,— + </p> + <p> + “You’ve nearly been the death of Madame, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I’m very sorry,” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Sorrow is no salve, sir, no salve at all. Were it not for her books I + fear we might have lost her.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” + </p> + <p> + “Mercifully her books have comforted her. She is resting among them now. + Madame is possessed of a magnificent library, sir, encyclopaedic in its + scope and cosmopolitan in its point of view. In it are represented every + age and every race since the dawn of letters; thousands upon thousands of + authors, sir, Rabelais and Dean Farrar, Lamb and the Hindoos, Mettlelink + and the pith of the great philosophers such as John Oliver Hobbes, Locke, + Hume and Earl Spencer; the biting sarcasm of Hiny, the pathos of Peps, the + oratorical master-strokes of such men as Gladstone, Demosthenes and Keir + Hardie; the romance of Kipling, sir, of Bret Harte and Danty Rossini; the + poetry of Kempis a Browning and of Elizabeth Thomas Barrett—all, all + are there bound in Persian calf. Among these she seeks for solace. To + these she flies in hours of anguish.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she indeed?” said the Prophet, feeling thoroughly overwhelmed. + </p> + <p> + “She desires me to take you to her at once, sir, there to confer and”—he + lowered his voice and trembled visibly—“to arrange measures for the + protection of my life.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet found himself wishing that he had been less precipitate in + covertly alluding to Sir Tiglath’s long desire of assault and battery, but + before he had time to wish anything for more than half a minute, Mr. + Sagittarius had guided him ceremoniously across the hall and was turning + the handle of a door that was decorated with black and scarlet paint. + </p> + <p> + “Here, sir,” he whispered, “you will find Madame surrounded by the authors + whom she loves, by their portraits, their biographies and their writings. + Here she communes with the great philosophers, sir, the poets, the + historians and the humourists of the entire world, from the earliest days + down to this very moment—in Persian calf, sir.” + </p> + <p> + He gazed awfully at the Prophet, and gently opened the door of this temple + of the intellect. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet expected to find himself ushered into a gigantic chamber, + lined from floor to ceiling with shelves that groaned beneath their burden + of the literature of genius. Indeed he had, in fancy, beheld even the + chairs and couches covered with stacks of volumes, the very floor littered + with the choicest productions of the brains of the dead and living. His + surprise was, therefore, very great when, on passing through the door, he + beheld Madame Sagittarius reposing at full length upon a maroon sofa in a + small apartment, whose bare walls, were entirely innocent of book-shelves. + Indeed the only thing of the sort which was visible was a dwarf revolving + bookcase which stood beside the sofa, and contained some twenty volumes + bound, as Mr. Sagittarius had stated, in Persian calf, each of these + volumes being numbered and adorned with a label on which was printed in + letters of gold, “The Library of Famous Literature: Edited by Dr. Carter. + Tasty Tit-bits from all Times.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, sir, in her library,” whispered Mr. Sagittarius by the door. “She + is absorbed, sir, and does not notice us.” + </p> + <p> + In truth Madame Sagittarius did appear to be absorbed in thought, or + something else, for her eyes were closed, her mouth was open, and a sound + of regular breathing filled the little room. + </p> + <p> + “She is thinking out some problem, sir,” continued Mr. Sagittarius. “She + is communing with the mighty dead. Sophronia, my love, Sophronia, + Capricornus has brought the gentleman according to your orders. Sophy! + Sophy!” + </p> + <p> + His final utterances, which were somewhat strident caused Madame + Sagittarius to come away from her communion with the mighty dead with a + loud ejaculation of the nature of a snort combined with a hissing whistle, + to kick up her indoor kid boots into the air, turn upon her right elbow, + and present a countenance marked with patches of red and white, and a pair + of goggling, and yet hazy, eyes to the intruders upon her intellectual + exertions. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vivian has come, Sophronia, according to your directions.” + </p> + <p> + Madame uttered a second snort, brought her feet to the floor, arranged her + face in a dignified expression with one fair hand, breathed heavily, and + finally bowed to the Prophet with majestic reserve and remarked, with the + professional click,— + </p> + <p> + “I was immersed in thought and did not perceive your entrance. <i>Mens + invictus manetur</i>. Be seated, I beg.” + </p> + <p> + Here certain very elaborate contortions and swellings of her interesting + countenance suggested that she was repressing a good-sized yawn, and she + was obliged to rearrange her features with both hands before she could + continue. + </p> + <p> + “Thought conquers matter, as Plauto—I should say as Platus very + rightly obesrved.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” assented the Prophet, trying to live up to the library, but + scarcely succeeding. + </p> + <p> + “Even in the days of the great Juvenile,” proceeded Madame, “to whose + satires I owe much”—here she laid a loving hand upon Vol. 2 of the + “Library of Famous Literature.”—“Long ere the days when Lord Lytton + and his Caxtons introduced us to the blessings of the printing press there + were doubtless ladies who, like myself, could forget the treachery and the + lies of men in silent communion with the brains of the departed. Far + better to be Milton’s ‘Il Penserosero’ than Lord Byron’s ‘L’Allegra!’” + </p> + <p> + To this pronounciamento, which was interrupted several times by more + alarming contortions of the brain-worker’s face, the Prophet replied with + a vague affirmative, while Mr. Sagittarius whispered,— + </p> + <p> + “Her whole knowledge, sir, comes straight from there”—pointing + towards the dwarf bookcase. “She brought it on the instalment system. Dr. + Carter has made her what she is! That man, sir, deserves to be canonised. + Eight guineas and a half, sir, and such a result!” + </p> + <p> + “Such a result!” the Prophet whispered back. + </p> + <p> + By this time Madame Sagittarius had apparently ceased to commune with the + dead, for her striking face assumed a more normal expression of feminine + bitterness as she realised who was before her, and she exclaimed sharply,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so you’ve come at last, Mr. Vivian! And pray what have you to say? + What about the rashes? And what is this danger that threatens Mr. + Sagittarius?” + </p> + <p> + “We’d better take the danger first, my dear,” said Mr. Sagittarius, with + grave anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Not that it should be the most important to one who wears the + <i>toga virilibus</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “True, my love. Still, to take it first will clear the ground, I think, + and set me more at ease. Well, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Thus adjured, the Prophet resolved to make a clean breast of Sir Tiglath’s + declarations, and he therefore replied,— + </p> + <p> + “I thought it only right to wire to you as I did, having learnt that there + is in London a gentleman, an eminent man, who has for five-and-forty years + been seeking for Malkiel with the avowed intention of—of—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh what, sir, of what?” said Mr. Sagittarius with trembling lips. + </p> + <p> + “Of doing him violence,” replied the Prophet, impressively. + </p> + <p> + “What is the gent’s name?” said Mr. Sagittarius, in great agitation. + </p> + <p> + “His name! <i>Nomen volens</i>!” added Madame. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said the Prophet, “I prefer not to say at present.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should he desire to—?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you are a prophet.” + </p> + <p> + “There, Jupiter!” cried Madame, with flushed spitefulness. “What have I + always said! All prophets are what they call outsiders—<i>hors + d’oeuvres</i>, neither more nor less.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, my love, I know. But how should this gent recognise me for a + prophet? I’m sure my dress, my manner, are those of an outside broker, as + I have often told you, Sophy. How—” + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman has not yet recognised you,” said the Prophet. “At the + moment he believes you to be an American syndicate.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank mercy!” ejaculated Mr. Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + “But one can never tell,” added the Prophet. “He might find out.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” cried Madame at this juncture. “We might quite well have gone + to the square yesterday as I always suspected. But you are so timid, + Jupiter. <i>Timeo Dan—Dan</i>—well, <i>Dan</i> something or + other, as Virgil so truly says.” + </p> + <p> + “Cautious, Sophronia, only cautious, for your and the children’s sakes!” + </p> + <p> + “I call a man who’s afraid even when he’s passing everywhere as an + American syndicate a cowardly custard,” rejoined Madame, who appeared to + be suffering under that peculiar form of flushed irritability which is apt + to follow on heavy thought, indulged in to excess in a recumbent position + during the daytime. “There, that’s settled. So now let us get to business. + Kindly hand me your prophecy of last night, Mr. Vivian.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet drew from a breast pocket a sheet or two of notepaper, on + which he had dotted down, in prophetic form, the events of the night + before. Madame received it and continued,— + </p> + <p> + “Before perusing this report, Mr. Vivian, I should wish to be made + acquainted with those particulars.” + </p> + <p> + “Which ones?” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Of your grandmother’s career.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Let us take them in order, please, and proceed <i>parri passo</i>. When + was the old lady removed from the bottle?” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” replied the Prophet, firmly. “Never.” + </p> + <p> + An expression of incredulous amazement decorated the obstreperous features + of Madame. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Vivian, that she sucks it still?” she + inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I mean what I say, that she has never been removed from it,” returned the + Prophet, with energy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, she must be very partial to milk and Indian rubber, very + partial indeed!” said Mr. Sagittarius. “Go on, my darling.” + </p> + <p> + “Her first tooth, Mr. Vivian—when did she cut it?” + </p> + <p> + “She has no idea.” + </p> + <p> + Madame began to look decidedly grim. + </p> + <p> + “Date of short-coating?” she rapped out. + </p> + <p> + “There was no date. She never wore a short-coat.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you desire me to believe, Mr. Vivian, that the old lady has been going + about in long clothes ever since she was born?” inquired Madame, with + incredulous sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + “Most certainly I do,” replied the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Then how does she get along, pray? Come! Come!” + </p> + <p> + “She has always worn long clothes,” cried the Prophet, boldly standing up + for his beloved relative, “and always will. You can take that from me, + Madame Sagittarius. I know my grandmother, and I am ready to pledge my + honour to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well. She must be a very remarkable lady. That’s all I can say. + When did she put her hair up?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. She has never put it up.” + </p> + <p> + “She has never put her hair up!” + </p> + <p> + “No, never.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to say that your grandmother goes about in long clothes with her + hair down in the central districts?” cried Madame in blank amazement. + </p> + <p> + “She has never put her hair up,” answered the Prophet, with almost + obstinate determination. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well—if she prefers! But I wonder what the police are about!” + retorted Madame. “And now the rashes?” + </p> + <p> + “There are none.” + </p> + <p> + But at this Madame’s temper—already somewhat upset by her prolonged + communion with the mighty dead—showed symptoms of giving way + altogether. + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish, Mr. Vivian!” she said, clicking loudly and passing with an + almost upheaving jerk to her upper register! “I’m a mother and was once a + child. Rubbish! I must insist upon knowing the number of the rashes.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you there are none.” + </p> + <p> + “D’you wish me to believe that the old lady has gone about all her life in + the Berkeley Square in long clothes and her hair down, with her lips to + the bottle and never had a rash? Do you wish me to believe that, Mr. + Vivian?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, do you wish Madame, a lady of deep education, sir, to believe + that?” cried Mr. Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + “I can only adhere to what I have said,” answered the Prophet. “My + grandmother has never been removed from the bottle, has never worn a short + coat, has never put her hair up and has never had an epidemic in Berkeley + Square.” + </p> + <p> + “Then all I can say is that she’s an unnatural old lady,” cried Madame, + with obvious temper, tossing her head and kicking out the kid boots, as if + seized with the sudden desire to use them upon a human football. “And + there’s not many like her.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no one like her, no one at all,” said the Prophet with fervour. + </p> + <p> + “So I should suppose,” cried Madame, forgetting the other questions as to + the day of marriage, etc., in the vexation of the moment. “She must + certainly be the bird of whom Phoenix wrote that rose from ashes in the + days of the classics. <i>Rarum avis</i> indeed! Eh, Jupiter?” + </p> + <p> + “Very rarum, my dear, very indeed!” responded her husband, with imitative + sarcasm. “An avis indeed, not a doubt of it.” + </p> + <p> + “De Queechy should have known her,” continued Madame. “He always loved + everything out of the common. Well, and now for the prophecy. What is all + this, Mr. Vivian?” + </p> + <p> + “The result of last night’s observation,” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Do you call that a cycloidal curve?” asked Madame, with a contralto laugh + that shook the library. “Look, Jupiter!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius glanced over his wife’s heaving shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Very poor, my dear, very irregular indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the best I could do,” said the Prophet, still politely. + </p> + <p> + “I daresay,” replied Mr. Sagittarius. “I daresay. Where’s your star-map?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I don’t know,” answered the Prophet. “I left it in the + pomade.” + </p> + <p> + “The pomade!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the butler’s own special pomade, and it seems to have disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + “Very careless, very careless indeed. Let’s see—prophecy first, then + how arrived at. ‘Grandmother apparently threatened with some danger at + night in immediate future. Great turmoil in the house during dark hours.’ + H’m! ‘Some stranger, or strangers, coming into her life and causing great + trouble and confusion, almost resulting in despair, and perhaps actually + inducing illness.’ H’m! H’m! We didn’t arrive at any of this by our + observations, did we, Sophronia?” + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly not,” snapped Madame, haughtily. + </p> + <p> + “And now let’s see how arrived at. H’m! H’m! Grandmother—ingress of + Crab—conjunction of Scorpio with Serpens—moon in eleventh + house. Yes, that’s so. Jupiter in trine with Saturn—What’s this? + ‘Crab dressed implies danger—undressed Crab much safer—attempted + intervention failure—she’s in a nice state now—it tried to + keep her from it, but she was drawn right to it.’ Right to what?” + </p> + <p> + “The Crab?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course she was drawn to it. She depends on the Crab these nights. But + what does the rest mean?” + </p> + <p> + “The Crab was dressed.” + </p> + <p> + “Dressed—what in?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said the Prophet. “It didn’t tell me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius and Madame exchanged glances. + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself, Mr. Vivian, I beg,” cried Madame in a somewhat excited + manner. “How could the Crab be dressed?” + </p> + <p> + “I have wondered,” said the Prophet, gazing at the couple before him with + shining eyes. “But it was dressed last night, and that made it + exceptionally dangerous in some way. Something seemed to tell me so. + Something did tell me so.” + </p> + <p> + “What told you?” inquired Madame, with more excitement and a certain + respect which had been quite absent from her manner before. + </p> + <p> + “Something that came in the night. I don’t know what it was. Light flashed + from it.” + </p> + <p> + “It sounds like a sort of comet, my darling,” said Mr. Sagittarius, + considerably perturbed. “We didn’t observe that the Crab was specially + dressed, did we?” + </p> + <p> + “It had nothing on at all when we saw it,” said Madame with growing + agitation. “But whatever was this comet that flashed light? That’s what I + want to get at.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a dark thing that told me the Crab was dressed, that my + grandmother had been with it and that its influence was inimical to her.” + </p> + <p> + “A dark thing! That’s not a comet!” said Mr. Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + “It vanished with a flash of light into the square.” + </p> + <p> + “At what time did you observe it, sir?” asked Mr. Sagittarius, while + Madame leaned forward, gazing with goggling eyes at the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “At exactly half-past one.” + </p> + <p> + “Did it stay long?” + </p> + <p> + “A few minutes only—but it made an impression upon me that I can + never forget.” + </p> + <p> + It had apparently also made a very great impression upon Mr. and Madame + Sagittarius, who remained for some seconds staring fixedly at the Prophet + without uttering a word. At last Mr. Sagittarius turned to Madame and said + in a voice that shook with seriousness,— + </p> + <p> + “Can it be, Sophronia, that prophets ought to live in the central + districts? Can it really be that the nearer they are to the Circus, and + even to the Stores—” + </p> + <p> + “<i>O beatus illa</i>!” interjected Madame upon the pinions of a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sophronia, the Stores, the more clearly is the knowledge of the + future vouchsafed to them? If it should prove to be so!” + </p> + <p> + Madame stared again upon the Prophet with a fixity and strained inquiry + which made him shift in his seat. + </p> + <p> + “If it should!” she repeated, upon the lowest note of her lower register, + which sounded, at that solemn moment, like the keynote of a dreamer. Then, + with a sudden change of manner, she cried sharply,— + </p> + <p> + “Jupiter, you must accompany this gentleman back to the square to-day.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet started. So did Mr. Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + “But—” they cried simultaneously. + </p> + <p> + “And you must share his night watch.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my darling—” + </p> + <p> + “Or I will,” cried Madame. “Which is it to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sagittarius!” exclaimed the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Madame. “Let mine be the weary task to wait and watch at + home. <i>Fata feminus</i>. The mystery of the dressed Crab must be + unveiled. Should this mysterious visitant again vouchsafe a prophetic + message, a practical prophet must be at hand to receive it. Jupiter, this + gentleman is not practical. This report”—she struck the paper on + which the Prophet had dotted down his notes—“is badly written. The + cycloidal curve might have been made by a Board School child. The + deductions drawn—<i>deductio ad absurdibus</i>—reveal no + talent, none of the prophetic <i>feu de joie</i> at all. But this mystery + of the dressed Crab may mean much. Jupiter, you will accompany this + gentleman back to London and you will assist him practically at the + telescope to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, my love. I will risk the personal danger, for your and the + children’s—” + </p> + <p> + “But—but really—” began the Prophet. “I am very sorry, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Madame has spoken, sir,” said Mr. Sagittarius, very solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “I know she has. But—yes, I know there are no buts in your + dictionary, Madame, I know there aren’t—but I have an engagement + to-night that I have sworn—” + </p> + <p> + “What engagement, sir?” said Mr. Sagittarius, sternly. “You have sworn to + us. You must know that.” + </p> + <p> + “I have sworn to almost everyone,” cried the distracted Prophet. “But this + swear—I mean this oath must be kept before yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Before ours, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “It comes on before eleven. I keep my oath to you after it. I manage the + two, don’t you see?” + </p> + <p> + “He will see that you manage the two, Mr. Vivian, I can assure you,” said + Madame, viciously. “Won’t you, Jupiter?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, my dear. What is the oath, sir, that you place before ours?” + </p> + <p> + “An oath to Miss Minerva,” returned the Prophet, beginning to feel + reckless, firm in the conviction that it was henceforth his destiny to be + the very sport of Fate. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” cried Mr. Sagittarius. “The double life!” + </p> + <p> + “Who is Miss Minerva, pray?” said Madame, shooting a very penetrating + glance upon her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Your husband can tell you that,” replied the Prophet, by no means without + guile. + </p> + <p> + “Jupiter,” cried Madame, “what is the meaning of this? Who is this + person?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius looked exceedingly uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” he began, “she is a young fe—that is, a young wo—I + should say—” + </p> + <p> + “A fe! A wo! Explain yourself, Jupiter!” + </p> + <p> + “She is a lady, my love.” + </p> + <p> + “A lady! Do I know her?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe not, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my darling. That is—that is—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose!” said Madame, with a very violent click. + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly say, Sophronia, that, I can’t indeed. I have met her, by + accident, quite by accident I assure you, once or twice.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “At Jellybrand’s. She goes there to fetch letters on the same day as I + do.” + </p> + <p> + Madame’s very intellectual brow was over-clouded with storm. She turned + upon the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “And what of this person, Mr. Vivian?” she cried. “What of her and this + oath?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet, who was secretly very delighted with the diversion he had so + cleverly created, hastened to reply,— + </p> + <p> + “I have promised most solemnly to meet her to-night at a house in the + Zoological Gardens!” + </p> + <p> + “A house in the Zoological Gardens!” + </p> + <p> + “I mean at the Zoological House, the residence of Mrs. Vane Bridgeman, who + is—” + </p> + <p> + But, at this point in his explanation, the Prophet was interrupted by both + his hearers. + </p> + <p> + “The Jellybrand one!” cried Mr. Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + “The prophets’ patron!” vociferated Madame. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <h3> + THE PROPHET RETURNS FROM THE MOUSE WITH TWO OLD AND VALUED FRIENDS + </h3> + <p> + At these exclamations the Prophet started in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “You know this lady?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “By repute, sir,” replied Mr. Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + “Who does not?” cried Madame. “She built the ‘Prophets’ Rest’ at + Birchington.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Mediums’ Almshouses at Sunnington.” + </p> + <p> + “And the ‘Palmists’ Retreat’ at Millaby Bay.” + </p> + <p> + “And the—” + </p> + <p> + “I see you know all about her,” interposed the Prophet. “Well, she is + giving a reception to-night at Zoological House and I have sworn to be + there. But I shall get home by eleven. You will understand, however, that + I cannot have the pleasure of entertaining Mr. Sagittarius during the + evening under my own roof. I regret this extremely, but you see it is + unavoidable.” + </p> + <p> + To the Prophet’s great surprise this lucid explanation was received by his + hearers with a strange silence and a combined meditative, and even moony, + staring which was to him inexplicable. Both Madame and Mr. Sagittarius + seemed suddenly immersed in contemplation. They began, he thought, to look + like Buddhists, or like those devoted persons who, in the times of the + desert monks, remained for long periods posed upon pillows in sandy wastes + musing upon Eternity. At first, as he met their fixed eyes, he fancied + that they were, perhaps, falling into a trance, but presently the + conviction seized him that they must be, on the contrary, busily thinking + out some problem. He hoped fervently that he did not form part of it. At + length the quivering silence was broken by Mr. Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + “I might accompany you to Mrs. Bridgeman’s, sir,” he said to the Prophet. + “Might I not, Sophronia?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but—” began the Prophet, very hastily. + </p> + <p> + “The lady has frequently pressed me to accept of her hospitality.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “For years she has been writing to me at Jellybrand’s, under my real name + of Malkiel the Second, you understand. She addresses me simply as the + master.’” + </p> + <p> + “But do the postal authorities—” + </p> + <p> + “Not upon the envelope, sir, not upon the envelope.” + </p> + <p> + “I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Hitherto, true to myself, true to the principles of Malkiel the First, + and to the instincts of Madame, I have declined her personal acquaintance. + But there is no reason why you should not introduce me to the house as Mr. + Sagittarius, no reason at all.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet knew only too well that there was not, but before he had time + to go on trying to wriggle out of the complication, Madame struck in. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Minerva is to be present at this reception, I believe,” she said + sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she is,” answered the Prophet, illumined by a ray of hope. + </p> + <p> + “Jupiter,” said Madame, “I will accompany you and Mr. Vivian to the + Zoological Gardens to-night. It is my sacred duty.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet groaned. + </p> + <p> + “But, my darling—” + </p> + <p> + “The reception over, I will assist you and Mr. Vivian at the telescope in + the Berkeley Square. In your presence I can do so without departing from + my principles, <i>salvo pudoribus</i>. Do not interrupt me, Jupiter, if + you please. I have thought the matter out. The crisis in our fate is at + hand. Upon the events of the next three nights depends our future. These + mysterious messages of which Mr. Vivian speaks must be examined into by us + upon the spot. This mystery of the dressed Crab must be made clear. A + woman’s intellect is needed. A woman’s intellect shall not be wanting. Ill + as I am, worn down by the occurrences of yesterday and by this gentleman’s + incessant telegrams, I will leave my books”—here she waved one hand + towards the dwarf bookcase—“I will assume an appropriate <i>neglige</i> + and my outdoor boots, a fichu and bonnet, and will accompany you at once + to the Berkeley Square, there to confer and arrange the programme of the + evening. Mrs. Bridgeman would fall down before us in worship could she + know who we really are. As it is, Mr. Vivian will introduce us modestly as + two old and valued friends. The time may be at hand when we need no longer + hide ourselves beneath an <i>alibi</i>. Till then we must possess + ourselves, and Mr. Vivian must possess us, in patience. Ill as I am, I + will accompany you. To-night shall see me in the Zoological Gardens at my + husband’s side.” + </p> + <p> + Before the prospect of this sublime self-sacrifice both Mr. Sagittarius + and the Prophet were as men dumb. They said not a word. They only gazed—with + a sort of strange idiotcy—at Madame as she rose, with an elaborate + and studied feebleness, from the maroon couch and prepared to go upstairs + to assume the appropriate <i>neglige</i>. Only when she was at her full + height did the Prophet, rendered desperate by the terrible results of his + own ingenuity, nerve himself to utter one last protest. + </p> + <p> + “I really do not think it would be quite according to the rules of + etiquette which prevail in the central districts,” he cried, “for a lady + to spend the night in the butler’s pantry of a comparative stranger, even + when accompanied by her husband. It might give rise to talk in the square, + and—” + </p> + <p> + “The butler’s pantry, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Sagittarius. “Explain yourself, + I beg.” + </p> + <p> + “The telescope is there, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I have passed beyond the reach of etiquette,” said Madame, looking + considerably like Joan of Arc and other well-known heroines. “My duty lies + plain before me. Of myself I should not have selected the Zoological + Gardens and the butler’s pantry of a comparative stranger as places in + which to pass the night, even when accompanied by my husband. But my + conscience—<i>mens conscium recto</i>—guides me and I will not + resist it. I will assume my <i>neglige</i> and bonnet and will be with you + in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + So saying she majestically quitted the apartment. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet fell down upon the maroon sofa like a man smitten with + paralysis. He felt suddenly old, and very weak. He tried to think, to + consider how he could explain Madame Sagittarius to his grandmother—for + she must surely now become aware of the presence of strangers in her + pretty home—how he could arrange matters with Mr. Ferdinand, how he + could apologise to a lady whom he had never yet seen for appearing at her + house with two uninvited guests, how he could get rid of the Sagittariuses + when the horrible night watch should be at an end and the frigid winter + dawn be near. But his mind refused to work. His brain was a blank, + containing nothing except, perhaps, a vague desire for sudden death. Mr. + Sagittarius did not disturb his contemplation of the inevitable. Indeed, + that gentleman also seemed meditative, and the silence lasted until the + reappearance of Madame, in a brown robe—of a slightly tea-gown type—trimmed + with green chiffon and coffee-coloured lace, a black bonnet adorned with + about a score of imitation plums made in some highly-glazed material, a + heavy cloak lined with priceless rabbit-skins, and the outdoor boots. + </p> + <p> + If the Prophet had found the journey to the Mouse a painful experience, + what can be said of his feelings during the journey from that noble + stream? Long afterwards he recalled his state of mind during the tramp + across the Common among the broken crockery, the dust-heaps, the decaying + vegetables and the occasional lurking rats, the 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 “<i>O + festum dies</i>!” 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—“<i>Acto profanus vulgam</i>!” 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. + </p> + <p> + “Please,” said the Prophet, in a trembling voice, “please enter quietly. + My grandmother is very unwell.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Of course not. Still—on tiptoe if you don’t mind.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. Ah! that’s it!” + </p> + <p> + 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 to the library. + </p> + <p> + “This way,” he whispered. “This way. Softly! Softly!” + </p> + <p> + He began to steal, like a shadow, across the hall, and, impressed by his + surreptitious manner, his old and valued friends instinctively followed + his example. All three of them, then, with long steps and theatrical + pauses, were stagily upon the move, when suddenly the door that led to the + servants’ quarters swung open and Mrs. Fancy Quinglet debouched into their + midst, succeeded by Mr. Ferdinand, who carried in his hand a menu card in + a silver holder. At the moment of their appearance the Prophet, holding + his finger to his lips, was taking a soft and secret stride in the + direction of the library door, his body bent forward and his head + protruded towards the sanctum he longed to gain, and Madame and Mr. + Sagittarius, true to the instinct of imitation that dwells in our monkey + race, were in precisely similar attitudes behind him. The hall being + rather dark, and the gait of the trio it contained thus tragically + surreptitious, it was perhaps not unnatural that Mrs. Fancy should give + vent to a piercing cry of terror, and that Mr. Ferdinand should drop the + menu and crouch back against the wall in a hunched position expressive of + alarm. At any rate, such were their actions, while—for their part—the + Prophet and his two old and valued friends uttered a united exclamation + and struck three attitudes that were pregnant with defensive amazement. + </p> + <p> + Having uttered herself, Mrs. Fancy, according to her invariable custom + when completely terrified, displayed all the semblance of clear-sighted + composure and explanatory discrimination. While Mr. Ferdinand remained by + the wall, with his face to it and his large white hands spread out upon + his shut eyes, the lady’s maid advanced upon Madame, and, addressing + herself apparently to some hidden universe in need of information, + remarked in rather a piecing voice,— + </p> + <p> + “I say again, as I said afore, the house has been broke into and the + robbers are upon us. I can’t speak different nor mean other.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing these words Madame’s large and rippling countenance became + suffused with indignant scarlet, and a preliminary click rang through the + hall. The Prophet bounded forward. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Fancy,” he cried. “What are you saying?” + </p> + <p> + “What I mean, Master Hennessey. The house has been broke—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Hush! This lady and gentleman are—” + </p> + <p> + “Two old and valued friends—” boomed Madame. + </p> + <p> + “Two old and valued friends of mine. Mr. Ferdinand! Mr. Ferdinand, take + your face from the wall, if you please. There is no cause for alarm. Now, + Fancy—now!” + </p> + <p> + For Mrs. Fancy had, as usual, broken into tears on learning the reassuring + truth, and was now displaying every symptom of distress and enervation. + The Prophet, unable to calm her, was obliged to assist her upstairs and + place her upon the landing, where he hurriedly left her uttering broken + moans and murmurs, and repeating again and again her statement of affairs + and assertion of inability to conceal the revealed obvious. On his return + he found Madame, Mr. Sagittarius and Mr. Ferdinand grouped statuesquely in + the hall as if to represent “Perturbation.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ferdinand,” he said rather severely, “I did not expect this conduct + of you, shrinking from guests in this extraordinary manner. A butler who + shows terror at the sight of visitors does not conduce to the popularity + of his employers.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon, sir. I was not prepared.” + </p> + <p> + “Please be prepared another time. You will serve dinner for three + to-night, very quietly, in the inner dining-room. I do not wish Mrs. + Merillia to be disturbed in her illness, and—” + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir, Mrs. Merillia feels herself so much better that she + is coming down to dinner to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Coming down to dinner!” said the Prophet, aghast. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. And she has asked in Sir Tiglath Butt and the Lady Julia + Postlethwaite to join her. I was about to show Mrs. Merillia the menu, + sir, when—” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! Merciful Powers!” ejaculated the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “What on earth is to be done?” continued the Prophet, lost for the moment + to all sense of propriety. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand looked at the old and valued friends. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say, sir, I’m sure,” he replied, pursing up his lips. + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning—” began Mr. Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not aware that—” started Madame. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet darted to the library door and opened it. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, pray come in here,” he hissed. “My grandmother! Softly!” + </p> + <p> + “But the old la—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, please!” + </p> + <p> + “I must remark, Mr. Viv—” + </p> + <p> + “Tsh! Tsh! Mr. Ferdinand, wait in the hall. I shall want to speak to you + in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet closed the door and turned to this indignant visitors. + </p> + <p> + “This is terrible,” he said. “Terrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Pray why?” cried Madame. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” cried the Prophet, “why?” + </p> + <p> + He sought frantically for some excuse. Suddenly a bright idea occurred to + him. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he said, impressively. “Because Sir Tiglath Butt, the gentleman who + is coming to dinner, is the person who for five-and-forty years has been + seeking Mr. Sagittarius with the firm intention of assaulting, perhaps of + killing, him.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius turned deathly pale, and made a movement as if to get out + of the nearest window. + </p> + <p> + “This is a trap!” he stammered. “This is a rat-trap. This was planned.” + </p> + <p> + “Really”—began the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Sagittarius did not heed the exclamation. Trembling very + violently, he continued,— + </p> + <p> + “Sophy, my darling, you are in danger. Let us fly!” + </p> + <p> + And, clutching his wife by the arm, to the Prophet’s unspeakable delight + he endeavoured to lead, or rather to drag her to the door. But Madame now + showed the metal she was made of. + </p> + <p> + “Jupiter,” she exclaimed, in her deepest note, “if you are a Prophet you + can surely at moments be also a man. Where is your <i>toga virilibus</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, my love, I’m sure. Don’t let us lose a moment. Come, my + angel!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not come,” retorted Madame, whose leaping ambition had been fired + by the sound of titled names. “The gentleman believes you to be an + American syndicate.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, my blessing, I know. But—” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. If you don’t behave like one he will never suspect you.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet saw his chance slipping from him and hastened to interpose. + </p> + <p> + “He might divine the truth,” he said. “One can never—” + </p> + <p> + But at this moment he was interrupted by Mr. Ferdinand who abruptly opened + the door and observed,— + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir, Mrs. Merillia has sent down orders that the police + are to be fetched at once.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius, now thoroughly unnerved, turned from white to grey. + </p> + <p> + “The police!” he vociferated. “Sophy, my angel, let us fly. This is no + place for you!” + </p> + <p> + “The police!” cried the Prophet. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it’s Mrs. Fancy’s doing, sir. If you would go to Mrs. Merillia, + sir, I think—” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet rushed from the room and hastened upstairs four steps at a + time. He found his beloved grandmother in a state of grave agitation, and + Mrs. Fancy, in floods of tears, reiterating her statement that there were + robbers in the house. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Hennessey!” cried Mrs. Merillia, on his entrance, “thank God that you + are come. There are burglars in the house. Fancy has just encountered them + in the hall. Go for the police, my dearest boy. Don’t lose a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear grannie, they’re not burglars.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t speak different, Master Hennessey, nor—” + </p> + <p> + “Then who are they, Hennessey? Fancy declares—” + </p> + <p> + “They are two—two—well, two old and valued friends of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Old and valued friends of ours!” + </p> + <p> + “Of mine, grannie. Fancy, pray don’t make such a noise!” + </p> + <p> + “Fancy,” said Mrs. Merillia, “you can go to your room and lie down.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am. I say again, as I said afore, the house has been broke into + and the robbers—” + </p> + <p> + At this point the Prophet shut the door on the faithful and persistent + creature, who forthwith carried her determination and sobs to an upper + storey. + </p> + <p> + “Hennessey, what is all this? Who is really here?” + </p> + <p> + “Grannie, dear, only two friends of mine,” replied the Prophet, trying to + look at ease, and feeling like a criminal. + </p> + <p> + “Friends of yours? But surely then I know them. I thought I knew all your + friends.” + </p> + <p> + “So you do, grannie, all except—except just these.” + </p> + <p> + “And they are old and valued, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no—that is, I mean yes.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia was too dignified to ask any further questions. She lay back + on her sofa, and looked at her grandson with a shining of mild reproach in + her green eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear,” she said, “go back to your friends, but don’t forget that + Lady Julia and Sir Tiglath are dining here at half-past seven.” + </p> + <p> + “Grannie,” cried the Prophet, with a desperate feeling that Madame meant + to stay, “you ought not to dine downstairs to-night. Let me send and put + them off.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Hennessey,” she answered, with gentle decision. “I feel better, and I + want cheering up. My morning was not altogether pleasant.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet understood that she was alluding to his questions, and felt + cut to the heart. His home seemed crumbling about him, but he knew not + what to do or what to say. Mrs. Merillia observed his agitation, but she + did not choose to remark upon it, for she considered curiosity the most + vulgar of all the vices. + </p> + <p> + “Go to your friends, dear,” she said again. “But be in time for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, grannie.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet descended the stairs and met Mr. Ferdinand at the bottom. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to send for the police, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I’ve explained matters.” + </p> + <p> + “And about dinner, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you in a moment, Mr. Ferdinand,” replied the Prophet, entering + the library with the fixed intention of getting Madame and Mr. Sagittarius + out of the house without further delay. + </p> + <p> + The tableau that met his eyes, however, was not reassuring. He found + Madame, having laid aside her bonnet, and thrown the rabbit-skin cloak + carelessly upon a settee, arranging her hair before a mirror, and shaking + up the coffee-coloured lace fichu in a manner that suggested a permanent + occupation of the house, while her husband, sunk in a deep armchair in an + attitude of complete nervous prostration, was gazing dejectedly into the + fire. When the Prophet entered, the latter bounded with alarm, while + Madame turned round, a couple of hairpins in her mouth and both hands to + the back of her head. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” she remarked, through the pins, “<i>il a vous</i>! I am happy to say + that I have induced Mr. Sagittarius to assume his <i>toga virilibus</i>, + and that we have, therefore, great pleasure in yielding to your thoughtful + pressure—” + </p> + <p> + “My what?” said the Prophet, blankly. + </p> + <p> + “You thoughtful pressure, and accepting your urgent invite to dine here + before proceeding to the Zoological Gardens and thence to the butler’s + pantry.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet tried not to groan while she emitted a pin and secured with it + a wandering plait of raven hair. + </p> + <p> + “You’re sure, sir,” said Mr. Sagittarius, in a deplorable voice, “that the + gentleman is convinced that I am really an American syndicate?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet rang the bell. He could not trust himself to speak, and, when + he looked at Madame’s large and determined eyes, he knew that to do so + would be useless. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ferdinand,” said the Prophet, “this lady and gentleman will join us + at dinner to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Mr. Ferdinand, casting a glance of outraged prudery upon + Mr. Sagittarius, who was attired in his usual morning costume, including + spats. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter, Mr. Ferdinand?” asked the Prophet, following that + functionary’s eyes. “Ha! He’s not dressed!” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sagittarius,” cried the Prophet, “you’re not dressed!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” cried that gentleman, “do you dare to accuse me of impropriety in a + frock coat?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. But for dinner. You can’t possibly dine like that!” + </p> + <p> + “I have dined like this, sir, for the last twenty years. The architects + and their wives—” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay. But unluckily there will be no architects and their wives at + dinner to-night. Please stand up.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Kindly stand up. Mr. Ferdinand!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Place your back against this gentleman’s if you please—touching, + touching! Don’t wriggle away like that. Keep your heels to the ground + while I fetch a sheet of notepaper. Don’t move your heads either of you. I + thought so. You’re pretty much the same height. Mr. Ferdinand, you will + lay out a white shirt and one of your black dress suits in my + dressing-room at once. Madame, I regret that we must leave you for a few + moments. Will you rest here? Allow me to place a cushion for your head. + And here is Juvenal in the original.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the Prophet hurried Mr. Sagittarius from the room, driving Mr. + Ferdinand, in a condition of elephantine horror, before him, and + abandoning Madame to an acquaintance with the classics that she had + certainly never achieved in the society of the renowned Dr. Carter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <h3> + MALKIEL THE SECOND IS MISTAKEN FOR A RATCATCHER + </h3> + <p> + “If you tremble like that, of course it must look too big!” exclaimed the + Prophet to Mr. Sagittarius, a quarter of an hour later. “Draw it in at the + back.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius, with shaking hands, drew in the waistcoat of Mr. + Ferdinand, which hung in folds around his thin and agitated figure. + </p> + <p> + “That’s better,” said the Prophet. “They won’t notice anything odd. But + you’ve turned up your—Mr. Ferdinand’s trousers!” + </p> + <p> + “They’re too long, sir. You braced them too low for—” + </p> + <p> + “I braced them low on purpose,” cried the Prophet in great excitement, “to + cover the spats, since you can’t get on Mr. Ferdinand’s boots. Kindly turn + them down.” + </p> + <p> + “As to the spats, sir, the architects and their wives—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sagittarius,” exclaimed the Prophet, “I think it right to inform you + that if you mention the architects and their wives again, I may very + probably go mad. I don’t say I shall, but I will not answer for myself. + Have the goodness to turn them down and follow me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius obeyed, and followed the Prophet from the room with a + waddling gait and a terrible sensation of having nothing on. The coat and + trousers which he wore flapped about him as he descended the stairs in the + wake of the Prophet, glancing nervously about him and starting at the + slightest sound. In the library they found Madame, holding the great + Juvenile upside down and looking exceedingly cross. + </p> + <p> + “Will you be good enough to come upstairs?” said the Prophet to her very + politely, though his fingers twitched to strangle her. “I wish to present + you to my grandmother, and dinner is just ready.” + </p> + <p> + Madame rose with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready too,” she said, with a click. “<i>Semper paratis</i>.” + </p> + <p> + And, shaking up the fichu, she ascended the stairs. Outside the + drawing-room door the Prophet, who seemed strangely calm, but who was in + reality almost bursting with nervous excitement, paused and faced his old + and valued friends. + </p> + <p> + “You will forgive my saying so, I hope,” he whispered, “but my grandmother + is not well and much conversation tires her. So we don’t talk too much in + her presence. Only just now and then, you understand.” + </p> + <p> + And with this last injunction—futile, he knew as he gave it—he + commended himself to whatever powers there be and opened the door. + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath had not yet arrived, but Lady Julia Postlethwaite was seated + on a sofa by Mrs. Merillia, and was conversing with her about the Court, + the dreadful amount of money a certain duke—her third cousin—had + recently had to pay in Death Duties, the corrupt condition of society, and + the absurd pretensions of the lower middle classes. Lady Julia was + sensitive and a very <i>grande dame</i>. She wore her hair powdered, and + had a slight cough and exquisite manners. Once a lady in waiting, she was + now a widow, possessed a set of apartments in Hampton Court Palace, + worshipped Queen Alexandra, and had scarcely ever spoken to anybody who + moved outside of Court Circles. The Duke of Wellington was said to have + embraced her when a child. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia and this lady looked up when the door opened, and Lady Julia + paused midway in a sentence, of which these were the opening words,— + </p> + <p> + “The old duke wouldn’t make it over, and so poor Loftus has to pay nearly + a million to the Chancellor of the Excheq—” + </p> + <p> + “How d’you do, Lady Julia? Grannie, I have persuaded my friends, Mr. and + Madame Sagittarius, to join us at dinner. Sir Tiglath Butt is most anxious + to meet Mr. Sagittarius, who is a great astronomer. Let me—Madame + Sagittarius, Mrs. Merillia—Mr. Sagittarius—Mrs. Merillia, my + grandmother—Lady Julia Postlethwaite.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia, although taken completely by surprise, and fully conscious + that her grandson had committed an outrage in turning an arranged and + intimate quartette without permission into a disorganised sextette, bowed + with self-possessed graciousness, and indicated a chair to Madame, who + seated herself in it with that sort of defensive and ostentatious majesty + which is often supposed by ill-bred people to be a perfect society manner. + Mr. Sagittarius remained standing in his enormous suit, turning out his + feet, over which Mr. Ferdinand’s trousers rippled in broadcloth waves, in + the first position. A slight pause ensued, during which the Prophet was + uncomfortably affected by the behaviour of Madame, who gazed at the very + neat and superior wig worn by Mrs. Merillia, and at that lady’s charming + silver grey damask gown, in a manner that suggested amazement tempered + with indignation, her instant expression of these two sentiments being + only held in check by a certain reverence which was doubtless inspired by + the pretty room, the thick carpet, the ancestral pictures upon the walls, + and the lofty bearing of Lady Julia Postlethwaite, who could scarcely + conceal her very natural surprise at the extraordinary appearance of Mr. + Sagittarius. As to Mrs. Merillia, although she was, in reality, near + fainting with wonder at her grandson’s escapade, she preserved an + expression of gracious benignity, and did not allow a motion of her + eyelids or a flutter of her fan to betray her emotion at finding herself + the unprepared hostess of such unusual guests. The Prophet broke the + silence by saying, in a voice that cracked with agitation,— + </p> + <p> + “I trust—I sincerely trust that we shall have a clement spring this + year.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Julia, at whom he had looked while uttering this original desire, was + about to reply when Madame uttered a stentorian click and interposed. + </p> + <p> + “In the spring the young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love,” + she remarked, with the fictitious ease of profound ill-breeding. + </p> + <p> + No one dared to dispute the portentous statement, and she resumed + majestically,— + </p> + <p> + “The Mouse is delicious in spring.” + </p> + <p> + There was another dead silence, and Madame, turning with patronising and + heavy affability towards Lady Julia, added,— + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship doubtless loves the Mouse—<i>Mus Pulcherrimo</i>—in + spring as I do?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet felt as if he were being pricked by thousands of red-hot + needles, and the perspiration burst out in beads upon his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “I am not specially fond of mice in spring, or indeed at any season,” + replied Lady Julia, with her slight, but very distinct and bell-like, + cough. + </p> + <p> + “I said the Mouse, your ladyship,” returned Madame, feeding upon this + titled acquaintance with her bulging black eyes, and pushing the kid boots + well out from under her brown skirt. “I observed that the Mouse was + peculiarly delicious in the season of love.” + </p> + <p> + “No mouse attracts me,” said Lady Julia, coughing again and raising her + fine eyebrows slightly. “I should much prefer to pass the spring without + the companionship of any mouse whatever.” + </p> + <p> + Both Madame and Mr. Sagittarius opened their lips to reply, but before + they could eject a single word the door was opened by Mr. Ferdinand, who + announced,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir Tiglath Butt.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius started violently and upset a vase of roses, the + astronomer rolled into the room with a very red face, and Mr. Ferdinand + added,— + </p> + <p> + “Dinner is served.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia shook hands with Sir Tiglath and glanced despairingly around + her. It was sufficiently obvious that she was considering how to arrange + the procession to the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + “Hennessey,” she began, “will you take Lady Julia? Sir Tiglath, will you”—she + paused, but there was no help for it, she was obliged to continue—“take + Mrs. Sagittarius? Let me introduce you, Sir Tiglath Butt—Mrs. + Sagittarius. Mr. Sagittarius, will you take—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sagittarius!” roared Sir Tiglath. “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + That gentleman gathered Mr. Ferdinand’s trousers up in both hands and + prepared for instantaneous flight. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” bellowed Sir Tiglath, wheeling round with amazing rapidity + for so fat a man. “Ha!” + </p> + <p> + He had viewed Mr. Sagittarius, who, grasping Mr. Ferdinand’s suit in + pleats, ducked his head like one wishing to be beforehand with violence + and set the spats towards the door. Sir Tiglath advanced upon him. + </p> + <p> + “The old astronomer has heard the name of Sagittarius,” he vociferated. + “He has been informed that—” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not true, sir,” cried Mr. Sagittarius, pale with terror. “It is not + true. I deny it. I am an Ameri—I mean I am not the American + syndicate—you are in error, in absolute error. I swear it. I take + the heavens to witness.” + </p> + <p> + At this remarkable and comprehensive statement Mrs. Merillia and Lady + Julia looked at each other in elegant amazement. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, sir?” exclaimed Sir Tiglath. “And why do you insult the + sacred heavens, you an astronomer!” + </p> + <p> + “I am not an astronomer,” cried Mr. Sagittarius, cringing in the + voluminous waistcoat of Mr. Ferdinand. “I am an outside broker. I swear + it. My dress, my manner proclaim the fact. Sophronia, tell the gentleman + that I am an outside broker and that all Margate has recognised me as + such.” + </p> + <p> + “My husband states the fact,” said Madame, in response to this impassioned + appeal. “My husband brokes outside, and has done for the last twenty + years. Collect yourself, Jupiter. Pray do not doff your <i>toga virilibus</i> + in the presence of ladies!” + </p> + <p> + The terror of Mr. Sagittarius was such, however, that it is very doubtful + whether he would not have proceeded thus to disrobe had not the Prophet, + rendered desperate by the turn of events, abruptly leaped between Sir + Tiglath and his old and valued friend and, gathering the outraged Lady + Julia under his arm, exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Pray, pray—we can discuss this matter more comfortably at dinner. + Permit me, Lady Julia. Sir Tiglath, if you will kindly give your arm to + Madame Sagittarius. Mr. Sagittarius, my grandmother.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he made a sort of flank movement, so adroitly conceived and + carried out that, in the twinkling of an eye, he had driven Sir Tiglath to + the side of Madame and hustled Mr. Sagittarius into the immediate + neighbourhood of Mrs. Merillia. Nor had more than two minutes elapsed + before the whole party found themselves—they scarce knew how—arranged + around the dining table and being served with clear soup by Mr. Ferdinand + and the astounded Gustavus, whose naturally round eyes began to take an + almost oblong form as he attended to the wants of Mrs. Merillia’s very + unfamiliar guests, whose outlying demeanour and architectural manners + evidently filled him with the most poignant dismay. + </p> + <p> + As to Mrs. Merillia and Lady Julia, the foregoing scene had so reduced + them that they were almost betrayed into some hysterical departure from + the rules of exquisite good breeding which they had unconsciously observed + from the cradle. Indeed, the latter, strong in the belief that the terms + outside broker and raving maniac were interchangeable, twice dropped her + spoon into her soup-plate before she could succeed in lifting it to her + mouth, and was unable to prevent herself from whispering to the Prophet,— + </p> + <p> + “Pray, Mr. Vivian, tell me the worst—is he absolutely dangerous?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” whispered back the Prophet, reassuringly. “It’s all his play.” + </p> + <p> + “Play!” murmured Lady Julia, glancing at Mr. Sagittarius, who was holding + back the right sleeve of Mr. Ferdinand’s coat with his left hand in order + to have the free use of his dinner limb. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” whispered the Prophet. “He’s the most harmless, innocent creature. + A child might stroke him. I mean he wouldn’t hurt a child.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but we are not children,” said Lady Julia, still in great + apprehension. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Sir Tiglath, concerned with his dinner, took no heed of Mr. + Sagittarius for the moment, and that gentleman, slightly reassured, + endeavoured to make himself agreeable to Mrs. Merillia. + </p> + <p> + “You are very pleasantly situated here, ma’am,” he began. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Merillia thought he meant because she was at his elbow, and answered + politely,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very pleasantly situated.” + </p> + <p> + “It is indeed a blessing to be within such easy reach of the Stores,” + added Mr. Sagittarius, finishing his soup, and permitting Mr. Ferdinand’s + sleeves to flow down once more over his hands. + </p> + <p> + “The Stores!” said Mrs. Merillia. + </p> + <p> + “<i>O festum dies beatus illa</i>!” ejaculated Madame, assuming an + expression of profound and almost passionate sentiment. “Happy indeed the + good lady who dwells in the central districts!” + </p> + <p> + She permitted a gigantic sigh to leave her bosom and to wander freely + among the locks of those at the table. Sir Tiglath, who, on being + assaulted by her learning, had shown momentary symptoms of apoplexy, now + gave a loud grunt, while the Prophet, perceiving that his grandmother and + Lady Julia were quite unequal to the occasion, hastily replied,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Berkeley Square is very convenient in may ways.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Mr. Sagittarius, keeping a wary eye on Sir Tiglath and + re-addressing himself to Mrs. Merillia, “the Berkeley Square. But if you + lived in the one behind Kimmins’s Mews, it would be quite another pair of + boots, would it not, ma’am?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Julia, who was sitting next to Mr. Sagittarius, shifted her chair + nearer to the Prophet, and whispered, “I’m sure he is dangerous, Mr. + Vivian!” while Mrs. Merillia, in the greatest perplexity, replied,— + </p> + <p> + “The one behind Mr. Kimmins’s Mews?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, over against Brigwell’s Buildings, just beyond the Pauper Lunatic + Asylum.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Julia turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “I daresay,” answered Mrs. Merillia, bravely. “But I am not acquainted + with the neighbourhood you mention.” + </p> + <p> + “You know the Mouse?” + </p> + <p> + At this abrupt return to the subject of mice Lady Julia became really + terrified. + </p> + <p> + “Be frank with me, Mr. Vivian,” she whispered to the Prophet, under cover + of boiled salmon; “is he a ratcatcher?” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens, no!” whispered back the Prophet. “He’s—he’s quite the + contrary.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “What mouse?” said Mrs. Merillia, endeavouring to seem pleasantly at ease, + though she, too, was beginning to feel a certain amount of alarm at these + strange beings’ persistent discussion of the inhabitants of the wainscot. + “Do you allude to any special mouse?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, ma’am. I allude to the Mouse that has helped to make Madame and + self what we are.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath began to roll about in his chair preparatory to some + deliverance, and Mrs. Merillia, casting a somewhat agitated glance at her + grandson, answered,— + </p> + <p> + “Really. I did not know that anything so small could have so much + influence.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be small, ma’am,” said Mr. Sagittarius. “But to a sensitive nature + it often seems gigantic.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean at night, I suppose? Does it disturb you very much?” + </p> + <p> + “We hear it, ma’am, but it lulls us to rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed. That is very fortunate. I fear it might keep me awake.” + </p> + <p> + “So we thought at first. But now we should miss it. Should we not, + Sophronia?” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless,” replied Madame, arranging a napkin carefully over her fichu, + and dealing rigorously with some mayonnaise sauce. “It has been our + perpetual companion for many years, <i>mus amicus humano generi</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath swelled, and Mrs. Merillia responded,— + </p> + <p> + “I see, a pet. Is it white?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma’am,” returned Mr. Sagittarius, “it is a rich, chocolate brown + except on wet days. Then it takes on the hue of a lead pencil.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Mrs. Merillia, trying nobly to remain social. “How very + curious!” + </p> + <p> + “We worship it in summer,” continued Mr. Sagittarius. “In the sultry + season it soothes and calms us.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is quite tame?” + </p> + <p> + “At that time of year, but in winter nights it is sometimes almost wild.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I daresay. They often are, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “The architects and their wives love it as we do.” + </p> + <p> + “Do they? How very fortunate!” + </p> + <p> + “We should hate to miss it even for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Vivian!” whispered Lady Julia, “this is dreadful. I’m almost sure + he’s brought it with him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. It’s not alive.” + </p> + <p> + “A dead mouse!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a river.” + </p> + <p> + “A river! But he said it was a mouse.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s both. Mr. Sagittarius,” added the Prophet, in a loud and desperate + tone of voice, “you’ll find this champagne quite dry. You needn’t be + afraid of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you get it from by the rabbit shop, sir?” asked Mr. Sagittarius, + lifting his glass. “I ordered a dozen in, only the day before yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Julia began to tremble. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” she whispered to the Prophet. “His mania is about animals.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the Prophet had made a warning face at Mr. Sagittarius, who + suddenly remembered his danger and subsided, glancing uneasily at Sir + Tiglath, whose intention of addressing him had been momentarily interfered + with by a sweetbread masked in a puree of spinach. + </p> + <p> + Madame Sagittarius, assisted by food and dry champagne, was now—as + the Prophet perceived with horror—beginning to feel quite at her + ease. She protruded her elbows, sat more extensively in her chair, rolled + her prominent eyes about the room as one accustomed to her state, and + said, with condescension, to Lady Julia,— + </p> + <p> + “Is your ladyship to make one of the party at the Zoological Gardens + to-night?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Julia, who now began to suppose that Mr. Sagittarius’s crazy passion + for animals was shared by his wife, gasped and answered,— + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to the Zoological Gardens?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to an assembly. It should be very pleasant. Do you make one?” + </p> + <p> + “I regret that I am not invited,” said Lady Julia, rather stiffly. + </p> + <p> + Madame bridled, under the impression that she was scoring off a member of + the aristocracy. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” she remarked, with a click. “Yet I presume that your ladyship is + not insensible to the charms of rout and collation?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon?” said Lady Julia, beginning to look like an image made + of cast iron. + </p> + <p> + “I imagine that the social whirl finds in your ladyship a willing + acolyte?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. I go out very little.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Madame, with some contempt. “Then you do not frequent the + Palace?” + </p> + <p> + “The Palace! Do you mean the Crystal Palace?” + </p> + <p> + “Of Buckingham? You are not an <i>amicas curiae</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “I fear I don’t catch your meaning.” + </p> + <p> + “Does not your ladyship comprehend the Latin tongue?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” said Lady Julia, who was born in an age when it was + considered highly improper for a young female to have any dealings with + the ancients. “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” said Madame, with pitying amazement. “You hear her ladyship, + Jupiter?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, my angel. Madame is a lady of deep education, ma’am,” said Mr. + Sagittarius, turning to Mrs. Merillia, who had been listening to the + foregoing cross-examination with perpetually-increasing horror. + </p> + <p> + “No decent female should understand Greek or Latin,” roared Sir Tiglath at + this point. “If she does she’s sure to read a great deal that she’s no + business to know anything about.” + </p> + <p> + At this challenge Madame’s bulging brow was overcast with a red cloud. + </p> + <p> + “I beg to disagree, sir,” she exclaimed. “In my opinion the Georgics of + Horatius, Homer’s Idyls and the satires of the great Juvenile—” + </p> + <p> + “The great what?” bellowed Sir Tiglath. + </p> + <p> + “The great Juvenile, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “There never was a great juvenile, ma’am. Talent must be mellow before it + is worth tasting, whatever the modern whipper-snapper may say. There never + was, and there never will be, a great juvenile—there can only be a + juvenile preparing to be great.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I affirm it, madam. And as you seem so mighty fond of Latin, remember + what Horace says—<i>Qui cupit opatam cursu contingere metam, Multa + tulit fecitque puer, sudavit et alsit</i>. Oh-h-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + And Sir Tiglath flung himself back in his chair, puffing out his enormous + cheeks and wagging his gigantic head at Madame who, for once in her life, + seemed entirely at a loss, and unable to call to her assistance a single + shred of learning from the library of Dr. Carter. + </p> + <p> + Having at last emerged from his Epicurean silence, the astronomer now + proceeded to take the floor. Satisfied that he had laid a presuming female + low, he swung round, as if on a pivot, to where Mr. Sagittarius was + sitting in the greatest agitation, and roared,— + </p> + <p> + “And now, sir what is all this about your being an outside broker? I was + distinctly informed by this gentleman only a night or two ago that you + were a distinguished astronomer.” + </p> + <p> + “I am betrayed!” cried Mr. Sagittarius, dropping the knife and fork which + he had just picked up for the dissection of a lobster croquette. “I said + this was a trap. I said it was a rat-trap from the first.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew he must be a ratcatcher,” whispered Lady Julia to the Prophet, who + was about to rise from his seat and endeavour to calm his guest. “I was + certain no one but a ratcatcher could talk in such a manner.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not indeed! Mr. Sagittarius, pray sit down! You are alarming my + grandmother.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t help that, sir. I am not going to sit here, sir, and be slain.” + </p> + <p> + “Tsh! Tsh! I merely informed Sir Tiglath the other evening that what Miss + Minerva had told him about you was true.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Minerva!” cried Madame, glancing at her husband in a most terrible + manner. “Miss Minerva!” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Enid Thistle, I mean,” cried the Prophet, mentally cursing the day + when he was born. + </p> + <p> + “Who’s that?” exclaimed Madame, beginning to look almost exactly like + Medusa. + </p> + <p> + “A young female who informed the old astronomer that your husband and an + elderly female named Mrs. Bridgeman had for a long while been carrying on + astronomical investigations together—” + </p> + <p> + “Carrying on together!” vociferated Madame. “Jupiter!” + </p> + <p> + “And that they had come to the conclusion that there was probably oxygen + in certain of the holy fixed stars. Oxygen, so the elderly female—” + </p> + <p> + “Oxygen in an elderly female!” cried Madame, in the greatest excitement. + “Jupiter, is this true?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius was about to bring forward a flat denial when the Prophet, + leaning behind the terrified back of Lady Julia, hissed in his ear,— + </p> + <p> + “Say yes, or he’ll find out who you really are!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” cried Mr. Sagittarius, in a catapultic manner. + </p> + <p> + Madame began to show elaborate symptoms of preparation for a large-sized + fit of hysterics. She caught her breath five or six times running in a + resounding manner, heaved her bosom beneath the green chiffon and + coffee-coloured lace, and tore feebly with both hands at a large medallion + brooch that was doing sentry duty near her throat. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, pray, Madame,” exclaimed the Prophet, who was now near his wits’ + end. “Pray—” + </p> + <p> + “How can I pray at table, sir?” she retorted, suddenly showing fight. “You + forget yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Hennessey,” said poor Mrs. Merillia, “what does all this mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, grannie, nothing except that Mr. Sagittarius is a very modest + man and does not care to acknowledge the greatness of his talents. Pray + sit down, Mr. Sagittarius. Here is the ice pudding. Madame, I am sure you + will take some ice. Mr. Ferdinand!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “The ice to Madame Sagittarius instantly!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ferdinand, who was trembling in every limb at having to assist at such + a scene in his dining-room, which had hitherto been the very temple of + soft conversation and the most exquisite decorum, advanced towards Madame, + clattering the flat silver dish, and causing the frozen delicacy that the + cook had elegantly posed upon it to run first this way and then that as if + in imitative agitation. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot,” sobbed Madame, beginning once more to catch her breath. “At + such a moment food becomes repulsive!” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you our cook’s ice puddings are quite delicious; aren’t they, + grannie?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea, Hennessey,” said Mrs. Merillia, who was so upset by the + extraordinary scene at which she was presiding in the character of + hostess, that she mechanically clutched the left bandeau of her delightful + wig, and set it quite a quarter of an inch awry. + </p> + <p> + “Try it, Madame,” cried the Prophet. “I implore you to try it.” + </p> + <p> + Thus adjured Madame detached a large piece of the agile pudding with some + difficulty, and subsided into a morose silence, while her husband sat with + his eyes fixed imploringly upon her, totally regardless of his social + duties. As both Mrs. Merillia and Lady Julia were by this time thoroughly + unnerved, and Sir Tiglath was once more immersed in his food, the whole + burden of conversation fell upon the Prophet, who indulged in a feverish + monologue that lasted until the end of dinner. What he talked about he + could never afterwards certainly remember, but he had a vague idea that he + discussed the foreign relations of England with Madagascar, the probable + future of Poland, the social habits of the women of Alaska, the prospects + of tobacco culture in West Meath, and the effect that imported Mexicans + would be likely to produce upon the natural simplicity of such + unsophisticated persons as inhabit Lundy Island or the more remote + districts of the Shetlands. When the ladies at length rose to leave the + dining-room his brain was in a whirl and he had little doubt that his + temperature was up to 104. Nevertheless his mind was still active, was + indeed preternaturally acute for the moment, and he saw in a flash the + impossibility of leaving Madame Sagittarius alone with his grandmother and + Lady Julia. As they got up from their seats he therefore took out his + watch and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! It is later than I had supposed. I am afraid we ought to be + starting for Zoological House. Mrs. Bridgeman will be expecting us.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir, certainly!” said Mr. Sagittarius, with all the alacrity + of supreme cowardice, and casting a terror-stricken glance towards Sir + Tiglath, who was glowering at him with glassy eyes above a glass of port. + “Mrs. Bridgeman will be expecting us!” + </p> + <p> + “I will assume my cloak,” said Madame, fiercely. “Jupiter!” + </p> + <p> + “My darling!” + </p> + <p> + “Kindly seek my furs.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, my love,” replied Mr. Sagittarius, darting eagerly from the + apartment to fetch the rabbit-skins. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Julia, I hope you will forgive us,” said the Prophet, with + passionate contrition. “If I had had the slightest idea that we should + have the pleasure of seeing you to-night, of course I should have given up + this engagement. But it is such an old one—settled months ago—and + I have promised Mrs. Bridgeman so faithfully that—” + </p> + <p> + “The old astronomer will go with you,” cried Sir Tiglath at this moment, + swallowing his glass of port at a gulp, and rolling out of his chair. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet turned cold, thinking of Miss Minerva, who would be present at + Mrs. Bridgeman’s living her secret double life. It was imperative to + prevent the astronomer from accompanying them. + </p> + <p> + “I did not think you knew Mrs. Bridgeman, Sir Tiglath,” the Prophet began, + while Mrs. Merillia and Lady Julia stood blankly near the door, trying to + look calm and dignified while everyone was ardently preparing to desert + them. + </p> + <p> + “The old astronomer must know her before the evening is one hour more + advanced. He must question her regarding the holy stars. He must examine + her and this Sagittarius, who claims to be an outside broker and yet to + have discovered oxygen in the fixed inhabitants of the sacred heavens. My + cloak!” + </p> + <p> + The last words were bellowed at Gustavus, who rushed forward with Sir + Tiglath’s Inverness. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet lowed his head, and metaphorically, threw up the sponge. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Julia,” said Mrs. Merillia, in a soft voice that slightly trembled, + “let us go upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + The two old ladies bowed with tearful dignity, and retired with a sort of + gentle majesty that cut the Prophet to the heart. + </p> + <p> + “One moment, if you please!” he said to his guests. + </p> + <p> + And he darted out of the room and leaped up the stairs. He found Mrs. + Merillia and Lady Julia just about to dispose themselves side by side upon + a sofa near the fire. They turned and looked at him with reproachful + doves’ eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Grannie—Lady Julia!” he exclaimed, “I implore your forgiveness. + Pardon me! Appearances are against me, I know. But some day you may + understand how I am placed. My position is—my—my situation—I—you—do + not wholly condemn me! Wait—wait a few days, I implore you!” + </p> + <p> + He rushed out of the room. + </p> + <p> + The two old ladies seated themselves upon the sofa, and tremblingly spread + abroad their damask skirts. They looked at each other in silence, shaking + their elegant heads. Then Mrs. Merillia said, in a fluttering voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Julia, you were a lady in waiting to Her Majesty, you were kissed by + the great Duke—tell me—tell me what it all means!” + </p> + <p> + “Victoria,” replied Lady Julia, “it means that your grandson has fallen + into the clutches of a dangerous and determined ratcatcher.” + </p> + <p> + And then the two old ladies mingled their damask skirts and their lace + caps and wept. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE SILLY LIFE + </h3> + <p> + “Call a cab for Sir Tiglath, Mr. Ferdinand,” whispered the Prophet—“a + four-wheeler with a lame horse. I’ll take both Mr. and Madame Sagittarius + in the brougham.” + </p> + <p> + “Must the horse be lame, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I absolutely decline to encourage the practice of using good horses + in four-wheeled cabs. It’s a disgrace to the poor animals. It must be a + very lame horse.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Ferdinand, standing upon the doorstep, whistled to the night. + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, in about two minutes there appeared round the corner the + very same cabman who had conveyed the Prophet and Lady Enid to the + astronomer’s on the previous day, driving the very same horse. + </p> + <p> + “This horse will do admirably,” said the Prophet to Mr. Ferdinand. + </p> + <p> + “He isn’t lame, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “P’r’aps not; but he knows how to tumble down. Sir Tiglath, here is a cab + for you. We shall go in the brougham. Zoological House, Regent’s Park, is + the direction. Let me help you in, Madame.” + </p> + <p> + As the Prophet got in to sit bodkin between his old and valued friends, he + whispered to the footman,— + </p> + <p> + “Tell Simkins to drive as fast as possible. We are very late.” + </p> + <p> + The footman touched his hat. Just as the carriage moved off, the Prophet + protruded his head from the window, and saw the astronomer rolling into + the four-wheeler, the horse of which immediately fell down in a most + satisfactory manner. + </p> + <p> + There was no general conversation in the brougham, but the Prophet, who + was obliged to sit partly on Madame, and partly on Mr. Sagittarius and + partly on air, occasionally heard in the darkness at his back terrible + matrimonial whisperings, whose exact tenor he was unable to catch. Once + only he heard Madame say sibilantly and with a vicious click,— + </p> + <p> + “I might have known what to expect when I married a Prophet—when I + passed over the <i>pons asinoribus</i> to give myself to a <i>monstram + horrendo</i>.” + </p> + <p> + To this pathetic heart-cry Mr. Sagittarius made a very prolonged answer. + The Prophet knew it was prolonged because Mr. Sagittarius always whispered + in such a manner as to tickle the nape of his neck. But he could not hear + anything except a sound like steam escaping from a small pipe. The steam + went on escaping until the brougham passed through a gate, rolled down a + declivity, and drew up before an enormous mansion whose windows blazed + with light. + </p> + <p> + “Is this the Zoological Gardens?” inquired Madame in a stern voice. “Is + this the habitation of the woman Bridgeman?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose this is Zoological House,” replied the Prophet, sliding + decorously off Madame’s left knee in preparation for descent. + </p> + <p> + “My darling! my love!” said Mr. Sagittarius. “I swear upon the infant head + of our Capricornus that Mrs. Bridgeman and I are—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough!” cried Madame. “<i>Jam satus</i>! Be sure that I will inquire + into this matter.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage door was opened and, with some struggling, the Prophet and + his two valued friends emerged and speedily found themselves in a very + large hall, which was nearly full of very large powdered footmen. In the + distance there was the sound of united frivolities, a band of twenty + guitars thrumming a wilful <i>seguidilla</i>. Roses bloomed on every side, + and beyond the hall they beheld a vision of illuminated vistas, down which + vague figures came and went. + </p> + <p> + Evidently when Mrs. Bridgeman let herself go she let herself go + thoroughly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius gazed about him with awe-struck amazement, but Madame was + equal to the occasion. She cast the rabbit-skins imperially to a + neighbouring flunkey, arranged her hair and fichu before a glass, kicked + out her skirt with the heel of one of the kid boots, nipped the green + chiffon into prominence with decisive fingers, and then, turning to the + Prophet with all the majesty of a suburban empress, said in a powerful voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Step forward, I beg. <i>J’ai pret</i>.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet, thus encouraged, stepped forward towards an aperture that on + ordinary days contained a door, but that now contained a stout elderly + lady, with henna-dyed hair, a powdered face, black eyebrows and a yellow + gown, on which rested a large number of jewelled ornaments that looked + like small bombs. At this lady’s elbow stood a footman with an exceedingly + powerful bass voice, who shouted the names of approaching guests in a + manner so uncompromising as to be terrific. Each time he so shouted the + stout lady first started and then smiled, the two operations succeeding + one another with almost inconceivable rapidity and violence. + </p> + <p> + “What name, sir?” asked the footman of the Prophet, bending his powdered + head till it was only about six feet two inches from the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hennessey Vivian,” replied the Prophet, hesitating as to what he + should add. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hemmerspeed Vivian!” roared the footman. “What name, Madame?” (to + Madame Sagittarius). + </p> + <p> + “Mr. and Madame Sagittarius of Sagittarius Lodge, the Mouse!” replied the + lady majestically. + </p> + <p> + “Mr.—and Madame—Segerteribus—of—Segerteribus—Lodge, + the Mouse!” bawled the footman. + </p> + <p> + The stout lady, who was Mrs. Vane Bridgeman, started and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Delighted to see you, Mr. Segerteribus!” she said to the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet hastened to explain through the uproar of twenty guitars. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vivian is my name. I think Miss Minerva Partridge—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bridgeman started and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she exclaimed. “Of course. You are to be kind enough to + introduce me some day to Mr. Sagi—Sagi—something or other, and + I am to introduce him to Sir Tiglath Butt, when Sir Tiglath Butt has been + introduced to me by dear Miss Partridge. It is all to work out + beautifully. Yes, yes! Charming! charming!” + </p> + <p> + “I have ventured to bring Mr. and Madame Sagittarius with me to-night,” + said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bridgeman started and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “They are my old and valued friends, and—and here they are.” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted! delighted!” said Mrs. Bridgeman, speaking in a confused manner + through the guitars. “How d’you do, Mr. Sagittarius?” + </p> + <p> + And she shook hands warmly with a very small and saturnine clergyman + decorated with a shock of ebon hair, who was passing at the moment. + </p> + <p> + “Biggle!” said the little clergyman. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bridgeman started and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Biggle!” repeated the little clergyman. “Biggle!” + </p> + <p> + The guitars rose up with violence, and all the hot, drubbing passion of + Bayswater being Spanish. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, I so agree with you, dear Mr. Sagittarius,” said Mrs. + Bridgeman to the little clergyman. + </p> + <p> + “Biggle!” the little clergyman cried in a portentous voice. “Biggle! + Biggle!” + </p> + <p> + “What does he mean?” whispered Mrs. Bridgeman to the Prophet. “How does + one?” + </p> + <p> + “I think that is his name. These are Mr. and Madame Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bridgeman started and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Biggle—of course,” she said to the little clergyman, who passed on + with an air of reliant self-satisfaction. “Delighted to see you,” she + added, this time addressing the Prophet’s old and valued friends. “Ah! Mr. + Sagi—Sagi—um—I have heard so much of you from dear Miss + Minerva.” + </p> + <p> + The wild, high notes of a flute, played by a silly gentleman from Tooting, + shrilled through the tupping of the guitars, and Mr. Sagittarius, + trembling in every limb, hissed in Mrs. Bridgeman’s ear,— + </p> + <p> + “Hush, ma’am, for mercy’s sake!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bridgeman started and forgot to smile. + </p> + <p> + “My loved and honoured wife,” continued Mr. Sagittarius, in a loud and + anxious voice, “more to me than any lunar guide or starry monitor! Madame + Sagittarius, a lady of deep education, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted!” said Mrs. Bridgeman, making a gracious grimace at Madame, who + inclined herself stonily and replied in a sinister voice,— + </p> + <p> + “It is indeed time that this renconter took place. Henceforth, ma’am, I + shall be ever at my husband’s side, <i>per fus et nefus</i>—<i>et + nefus</i>, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “So glad,” said Mrs. Bridgeman. “I have been longing for this—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bernard Wilkins!” roared the tall footman. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius started and Mrs. Bridgeman did the same and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Bernard Wilkins the Prophet!” Mr. Sagittarius exclaimed. “From the Rise!” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Eliza Doubleway!” shouted the footman. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Eliza!” cried Mr. Sagittarius, in great excitement. “That’s the + soothsayer from the Beck!” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Charlotte Humm!” yelled the footman. + </p> + <p> + “Madame Humm!” vociferated Mr. Sagittarius, “the crystal-gazer from the + Hill!” + </p> + <p> + “Professor Elijah Chapman!” bawled the footman. + </p> + <p> + “The nose-reader!” piped Mr. Sagittarius. “The nose-reader from the + Butts!” + </p> + <p> + “Verano!” screamed the footman, triumphantly submerging the flute and the + twenty guitars. “Verano!” + </p> + <p> + “The South American Irish palmist from the Downs! My love,” said Mr. + Sagittarius, in a cracking voice, “we are in it to-night, we are indeed; + we are fairly and squarely in it.” + </p> + <p> + Madame began to bridle and to look as ostentatious as a leviathan. + </p> + <p> + “And if we are, Jupiter!” she said in a voice that rivalled the footman’s—“if + we are, we are merely in our element. They needn’t think to come over me!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, my love! Remember that—” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Birdie Soames!” interposed the vibrant bass of the footman. + </p> + <p> + “The physiognomy lady from the Common!” said Mr. Sagittarius, on the point + of breaking down under the emotion of the moment. “Scot! Scot! Great + Scot!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bridgeman was now completely surrounded by a heterogeneous mass of + very remarkable-looking people, among whom were peculiarly prominent an + enormously broad-shouldered man, with Roman features and his hair cut over + his brow in a royal fringe, a small woman with a pointed red nose in bead + bracelets and prune-coloured muslin, and an elderly female with short + grizzled hair, who wore a college gown and a mortar-board with a scarlet + tassel, and who carried in one hand a large skull marked out in squares + with red ink. These were Verano, the Irish palmist from the Downs; Mrs. + Eliza Doubleway, the soothsayer from Beck; and Dr. Birdie Soames, the + physiognomy lady from the Common. Immediately around these celebrities + were grouped a very pale gentleman in a short jacket, who looked as if he + made his money by eating nothing and drinking a great deal, a plethoric + female with a mundane face, in which was set a large and delicately + distracted grey eye; and a gentleman with a jowl, a pug nose, and a large + quantity of brass-coloured hair about as curly as hay, which fell down + over a low collar, round which was negligently knotted a huge black tie. + This trio comprised Mr. Bernard Wilkins, the Prophet from the Rise; Madame + Charlotte Humm, the crystal-gazer from the Hill; and Professor Elijah + Chapman, the nose-reader from the Butts. No sooner was the news of the + arrival of these great and notorious people bruited abroad through the + magnificent saloons of Zoological House than Mrs. Bridgeman’s guests began + to flock around them from all the four quarters of the mansion, deserting + even the neighbourhood of the guitars and the inviting seclusion of the + various refreshment-rooms. From all sides rose the hum of comment and the + murmur of speculation. Pince-nez were adjusted, eyeglasses screwed into + eyes, fingers pointed, feet elevated upon uneasy toes. Pretty girls boldly + trod upon the gowns of elderly matrons in the endeavour to draw near to + Mrs. Bridgeman and her group of celebrities; youths pushed and shoved; + chaperons elbowed, and old gentlemen darted from one place to another in + wild endeavours to find an inlet through the press. And amid this frantic + scramble of the curious, the famous members of the occult world stood, + calmly conscious of their value and in no wise upset or discomposed. + Verano stroked his Roman features, and ran his large white hand through + his curly fringe; Dr. Birdie Soames tapped her skull; Mrs. Eliza Doubleway + played with her bead bracelets; Mr. Bernard Wilkins and Madame Charlotte + Humm conversed together in dreamy murmurs; while Professor Elijah Chapman + shook his brass-coloured hair till it fell forward over his variegated + shirt-front, and glanced inquiringly at the multitudes of anxious noses + which offered themselves to his inspection beneath the glare of the + electric lights. + </p> + <p> + Mr. and Madame Sagittarius, completely overlooked in the throng, elbowed, + trampled upon, jogged from behind and prodded from before, gazed with a + passion of bitter envy at their worshipped rivals, who were set in the + full blaze of success, while they languished in the outer darkness of + anonymous obscurity. + </p> + <p> + “<i>O miseris hominum men</i>—don’t set your feet on me, sir, if you + please!” cried Madame. “<i>O pectorae caec</i>—ma’am, I beg you to + take your elbow from my throat this minute!” + </p> + <p> + But even her powerful and indignant organ was lost in the hubbub that + mingled with the wild music of the guitars, to which was now added the + tinkle of bells and the vehement click of a round dozen of castanets, + marking the bull-fighting rhythm of a new air called “The Espada’s Return + to Madrid.” + </p> + <p> + “Jupiter!” she gurgled. “I shall be suff—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Amos Towle!” roared the footman savagely. + </p> + <p> + “The great medium from the Wick!” + </p> + <p> + “Towle the seer!” + </p> + <p> + “Amos Towle, the famous spiritualist!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Towle who materialises!” + </p> + <p> + “The celebrated Towle!” + </p> + <p> + “The great and only Towle!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is it <i>the</i> Towle?” + </p> + <p> + “I must see Towle!” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he? Oh, where is Towle?” + </p> + <p> + “Towle who communicates with the other world!” + </p> + <p> + “Towle the magician!” + </p> + <p> + “Towle the hypnotist!” + </p> + <p> + “Towle the soothsayer!” + </p> + <p> + “The magnetic Towle!” + </p> + <p> + “The electric Towle!” + </p> + <p> + “We must—we must see Towle!” + </p> + <p> + Such were a very few of the exclamations that instantly burst forth upon + the conclusion of the footman’s announcement. The elbowing and trampling + became more violent than ever, and Mrs. Bridgeman was forced—from + lack of room—to forego her society start, though she was still able + to indulge in her society smile, as she bowed, with almost swooning + graciousness, to a short, perspiring, bald and side-whiskered man in + greasy broadcloth, who looked as if he would have been quite at home upon + the box of a four-wheeled cab, as indeed he would, seeing that he had + driven a growler for five-and-twenty years before discovering that he was + the great and only Towle, medium, seer, and worker-of-miracles-in-chief to + the large and increasing crowd that lives the silly life. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Towle—charmed, delighted!” cried Mrs. Bridgeman. “I was so + afraid—How sweet of you to come out all this way from your eyrie at + the Wick! You’ll find many friends—dear Madame Charlotte—the + Professor—Mrs. Eliza—they’re all here. And Miss Minerva, too! + Your greatest admirer and disciple!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the crowd, wild in its endeavour to touch the inspired + broadcloth of the great Towle, surged forward, and the Prophet was driven + like a ram against the left side of his hostess. + </p> + <p> + “I beg—your—pard—” he gasped; “but could you tell—me—where + Miss Minerv—erva—is? I special—ly want to—to—” + </p> + <p> + “I think she’s with Eureka in tea-room number 1,” replied Mrs. Bridgeman. + “Oh, dear! Near the band. Oh, dear! Oh, my gown! Oh! So sweet of you to + come, Mrs. Lorrimer! Just a few interesting people! Oh, gracious mercy! + Oh, for goodness’ sake!” + </p> + <p> + She was thrust against a new arrival, and the Prophet, bringing his + shoulders vigorously into play, according to the rules of Rugby football, + presently found himself out in the open and free to wander in search of + Miss Minerva, whom he was most anxious to encounter before the arrival of + Sir Tiglath Butt, which must now be imminent, despite the marked + disinclination of his horse to proceed at the rate of more than half a + mile an hour. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet abandoned Mr. and Madame Sagittarius to their fate, thankful, + indeed, to be rid for a moment of their prophetic importunity. + </p> + <p> + Following the gasped directions of Mrs. Bridgeman, he made towards the + guitars, threading a number of drawing-rooms, and passing by the doors of + various mysterious chambers which were carefully curtained off in a most + secret manner. Here and there he saw groups of people—men in + extraordinary coats and with touzled masses of hair, women in gowns made + of the cheapest materials and cut in the most impossible fashions. Some + wore convolvulus on their heads, ivy-leaves, trailing fuchsia, or sprigs + of plants known only to suburban haberdashers; others appeared boldly in + caps of the pork-pie order, adorned with cherry-coloured streamers, clumps + of feathers that had never seen a bird, bunches of shining fruits, or + coins that looked as if they had just emerged from the seclusion of the + poor-box. Thread gloves abounded, and were mostly in what saleswomen call + “the loud shades”—bright scarlet, marigold yellow, grass green or + acute magenta. Mittens, too, were visible covered with cabalistic + inscriptions in glittering beadwork. Not a few gentlewomen, like Madame, + trod in elastic-sided boots, and one small but intrepid lady carried + herself boldly in a cotton skirt topped with a tartan blouse “carried out” + in vermilion and sulphur colour, over which was carelessly adjusted a + macintosh cape partially trimmed with distressed-looking swansdown. Here + and there might be seen some smart London woman, perfectly dressed and + glancing with amused amazement at the new fashions about her; here and + there a well set-up man, with normal hair and a tie that would not have + terrified Piccadilly. But for the most part Mrs. Bridgeman’s guests were + not quite usual in appearance, and, indeed, were such as the Prophet had + never gazed upon before. + </p> + <p> + Presently the uproar of the guitars grew more stentorian upon his ear, + and, leaving on his left an astonishing chamber that contained from a + dozen to fifteen small round tables, with nothing whatever upon them, the + Prophet emerged into an inner hall where, in quite a grove of shrubs hung + with fairy lights, twenty young ladies, dressed from top to toe in + scarlet, and each wearing a large golden medal, were being as Spanish as + if they had not been paid for it, while twelve more whacked castanets and + shook bells with a frenzy that was worth an excellent salary, the silly + gentleman from Tooting the while blowing furiously upon his flute, and + combining this intemperate indulgence with an occasional assault upon a + cottage piano that stood immediately before him, or a wave of the baton + that asserted his right to the position of <i>chef d’orchestre</i>. + Immediately beyond this shrine of music the Prophet perceived a Moorish + nook containing a British buffet, and, in quite the most Moorish corner of + this nook, seated upon a divan that would have been at home in Marakesh, + he caught sight of Miss Minerva in company with a thin, fatigued and wispy + lady in a very long vermilion gown, and an extremely small gentleman—apparently + of the Hebrew persuasion—who was smartly dressed, wore white gloves + and a buttonhole, and indulged in a great deal of florid gesticulation + while talking with abnormal vivacity. Miss Minerva, who was playing + quietly with a lemon ice, looked even more sensible than usual, the + Prophet thought, in her simple white frock. She seemed to be quite at home + and perfectly happy with her silly friends, but, as soon as she saw him + hovering anxiously to the left of the guitars, she beckoned to him + eagerly, and he hurried forward. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Vivian, I’m so glad you’ve come! Let me introduce you to my great + friend Eureka”—the lady in vermilion bowed absent-mindedly, and + rolled her huge brown eyes wearily at the Prophet—“and to Mr. + Briskin Moses.” + </p> + <p> + The little gentleman made a stage reverence and fluttered his small hands + airily. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty sight, pretty sight!” he said in a quick and impudent voice. “All + these little dears enjoying themselves so innocently. Mother Bridgeman’s + chickens, I call them. But it’s impossible to count them, even after + they’re hatched. Cheese it!” + </p> + <p> + The final imperative was flung demurely at a mighty footman, who just then + tried to impound Mr. Moses’s not quite finished brandy-and-soda. + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” said the mighty footman. + </p> + <p> + “Cheese it!” cried Mr. Moses, making a gesture of tragic repugnance in the + direction of the footman. + </p> + <p> + The mighty footman cheesed it with dignity, and afterwards, in the + servants’ hall, spoke very bitterly of Israel. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet was extremely anxious to get a word alone with Miss Minerva. + Indeed, it was really important that he should warn her of Sir Tiglath’s + approach, but he could find no opportunity of doing so, for Mr. Moses, who + was not afflicted with diffidence, rapidly continued, in a slightly + affected and tripping cockney voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Mother Bridgeman’s a dear one! God bless her for a pretty soul! She’d be + sublime in musical comedy—the black satin society lady, you know, + who makes the aristocratic relief,— + </p> + <p> + “‘I’m a Dowager Duchess, and everyone knows I’m a lady right down to the + tip of my toes.’ + </p> + <p> + “Very valuable among the minxes; worth her weight in half-crowns! I’d give + her an engagement any day, pretty bird! Ever seen her driving in a cab? + She takes off her gloves and spreads her hands over the apron to get the + air. A canary! Anything for me to-night, Eureka? A dove, a mongoose—anything + lucky? Give us a chance, mother!” + </p> + <p> + The lady in vermilion, who had a tuft of golden hair in the midst of her + otherwise raven locks, glanced mysteriously at Mr. Moses. + </p> + <p> + “See anything, mother?” he asked, with theatrical solemnity. “A tiny chunk + of luck for tricky little Briskin?” + </p> + <p> + “I do see something,” said Eureka, in a dim and heavy voice. “It’s just + close to you on that table by the brandy.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Moses started, and cast a glance of awe at the tumbler. + </p> + <p> + “My word,” he cried—“my word, mother! What’s the blessed little + symbol like? Not a pony fresh from Jerusalem for your believing boy!” + </p> + <p> + “You must wait a moment. It is not clear,” replied Eureka, slowly and + dreamily, fixing her heavy eyes on the brandy-and-soda. “It’s all cloudy.” + </p> + <p> + “Been imbibing, mother? Has the blessed little symbol been at it again? + Briskin’s shock—shocked!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s getting clearer. It stands in a band of fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Shade of Shadrach! Apparition of Abednego! Draw it mild and bitter, + mother!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now it steps out. It’s got a hump.” + </p> + <p> + “Got the hump, mother? My word! then it must be either a camel or an + undischarged bankrupt! Which is it, pretty soul?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a rhinoceros. It’s moving to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yokohama, mother! Tell the pretty bird to keep back! What’s it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a sign of plenty.” + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of what, mother? The ready or the nose-bag? Give us a chance!” + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of good fortune, because its head is towards you. If it had + presented its tail, it would mean black weather.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let it turn tail, for Saturday’s sake, mother. Keep its head + straight while I finish the brandy!” + </p> + <p> + And so saying, little Mr. Moses, with elaborate furtiveness, caught up the + tumbler, poured its contents down his throat, and threw himself back on + the divan with the air of a man who had just escaped from peril by the + consummate personal exercise of unparalleled and sustained ingenuity. + </p> + <p> + During this scene Miss Minerva had preserved her air of pronounced + Scottish good sense, while listening attentively, and she now said to + Eureka,— + </p> + <p> + “D’you see anything for Mr. Vivian, dear Eureka? Even the littlest thing + would be welcomed.” + </p> + <p> + Eureka stared upon the Prophet, who began to feel very nervous. + </p> + <p> + “There’s something round his head,” she remarked, with her usual almost + sacred earnestness. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet mechanically put up his hands, like a man anxious to interfere + with the assiduous attentions of a swarm of bees. + </p> + <p> + “Something right round his head.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it a halo?” asked Miss Minerva. + </p> + <p> + “Is it a Lincoln & Bennet, mother?” cried Mr. Moses. “One of the shiny + ones—twenty-one bob, and twenty-five-and-six if you want a kid + lining?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it’s like some sort of bird.” + </p> + <p> + “‘I heard the owl beneath my eaves complaining,’” chirped Mr. Moses, + taking two or three high notes in a delicate tenor voice. “‘I looked forth—great + Scot! How it was raining!’ Is it an owl, mother? Ask it to screech to + Briskin.” + </p> + <p> + “It is no owl,” said Eureka to the Prophet. “It is a sparrow—your + bird.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it upon the housetop, mother, having a spree all on its little alone?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it is hovering over the gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “What does that mean?” said the Prophet, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + But at this point Eureka suddenly seemed to lose interest in the matter. + “Oh, you’re all right,” she said carelessly. “I’m tired. I should like a + wafer.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother’s peckish. Mother, I see an ostrich by your left elbow. That’s a + sign that you’re so peckish you could swallow anything. Waiter!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” + </p> + <p> + “This lady’s so peckish she could eat anything. Bring her some tin-tacks + and a wafer. Stop a sec. Another brandy for Briskin. Your calves’d do for + the front row; ‘pon my word, they would. Trot, boy, trot!” + </p> + <p> + “I must speak to you alone for one moment,” whispered the Prophet to Miss + Minerva, under cover of the quips of Mr. Moses. “Sir Tiglath’s coming!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Minerva started. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Tig—” she exclaimed and put her finger to her lips just in time + to stop the “lath” from coming out. “Mr. Moses, I’m going to the buffet + for a moment with Mr. Vivian. Eureka, darling, do eat something + substantial! All this second sight takes it out of you.” + </p> + <p> + Eureka acquiesced with a heavy sigh, Mr. Moses cried, “Aunt Eureka’s so + hungry that one would declare she could even eat oats if she found they + were there!” and Miss Minerva and the Prophet moved languidly towards the + buffet, endeavouring, by the indifference of their movements, to cover the + agitation in their hearts. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Tiglath coming here!” cried Miss Minerva under her breath, as soon as + they were out of earshot. “But he doesn’t know Mrs. Bridgeman!” + </p> + <p> + “I know—but he’s coming. And not only that, Mr. and Madame + Sagittarius are here already!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Minerva looked closely at the Prophet in silence for a moment. Then + she said,— + </p> + <p> + “I see—I see!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried the Prophet, in great anxiety, “not the sparrow on my head?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But I see that you’re taking to your double life in real earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Now, Mr. Vivian, that’s all very well, and you know I’m the last + person to complain of anything of that sort, so long as it doesn’t get me + into difficulties.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of the difficulties you and everyone else have got me into,” + ejaculated the poor Prophet, for once in his life stepping, perhaps, a + hair’s-breadth from the paths of good breeding. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m sure I’ve done nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” said the Prophet, losing his head under the influence of the + guitars, which were now getting under way in a fantasia on “Carmen.” + “Nothing! Why, you made me come here, you insisted on my introducing Mr. + Sagittarius to Mrs. Bridgeman, you told Sir Tiglath Mrs. Bridgeman and I + were old friends and had made investigations together, assisted by Mr. + Sagittarius, you—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, that’s nothing. But Sir Tiglath mustn’t see me here as Miss + Minerva. Has he arrived yet?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think so. He’s got the cab we had yesterday and the horse.” + </p> + <p> + “The one that tumbles down so cleverly when it’s not too tired? Capital! + Run to the cloak-room, meet Sir Tiglath there, and persuade him to go + home.” + </p> + <p> + But here the Prophet struck. + </p> + <p> + “I regret I can’t,” he said, almost firmly. + </p> + <p> + “But you must.” + </p> + <p> + “I regret sincerely that I am unable.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Mr. Vivian, when a lady asks you!” + </p> + <p> + “I am grieved,” said the Prophet, with a species of intoxicated obstinacy—the + guitars seemed to be playing inside his brain and the flute piping in the + small of his back,—“to decline, but I cannot contend physically with + Sir Tiglath, a man whom I reverence, in the cloak-room of a total + stranger.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t ask you to contend physically.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but personal violence would keep Sir Tiglath from coming in.” + </p> + <p> + “Really! Then what’s to be done?” + </p> + <p> + She pursed up her sensible lips and drew down her sensible eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “I know!” she cried, after a moment’s thought. “I’ll masquerade to-night + as myself.” + </p> + <p> + “As yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. All these dear silly people here think that I’ve got an astral + body.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “A sort of floating business—a business that you can set floating.” + </p> + <p> + “What—a company?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. A replica of yourself. The great Towle—” + </p> + <p> + “He’s here to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew he was coming. Well, the great Towle detached this astral body + once at a séance and, for a joke—a silly joke, you know—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I christened it by my real name, Lady Enid Thistle, and said Lady Enid + was an ancestress of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it was so idiotic.” + </p> + <p> + “I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ve only now to spread a report among these dear creatures that + I’m astral to-night, and get Towle to back me up, and I can easily be Lady + Enid for an hour or two. In this crowd Sir Tiglath need never find out + that I’m generally known in these circles as Miss Partridge.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really think—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do. But I must find Towle at once.” + </p> + <p> + So saying she hastened away from the buffet, followed by the trotting + Prophet. As she passed Eureka and Mr. Moses, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Eureka, darling, do I look odd? I suddenly began to feel astral just as I + was going to eat a sandwich. I can’t help thinking that Lady Enid—you + know, my astral ancestress, who’s always with me—is peculiarly + powerful to-night. D’you notice anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Watch out for it, mother!” cried Mr. Moses. “See if it’s got the lump.” + </p> + <p> + Eureka fixed her heavy eyes on Miss Minerva and swayed her thin body to + and fro in as panther-like a manner as she could manage. + </p> + <p> + “Mother’s after it,” continued Mr. Moses, twitching his left ear with his + thumb in a Hebraic manner and shooting his shining cuffs; “mother’s on the + trail. Doves for a bishop and the little mangel-wurzel for the labouring + man. Clever mother! She’ll take care it’s suitable. Is it a haggis, + mother, hovering over the lady with outspread wings?” + </p> + <p> + Eureka closed her eyes and rocked herself more violently. + </p> + <p> + “I see you,” she said in a deep voice. “You are astral. You are Lady Enid + emerged for an hour from our dear Minerva.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so,” cried Lady Enid, with decision. “I thought so, because + when someone called me Miss Minerva just now I felt angry, and didn’t seem + to know what they meant. Tell them, dear Eureka,—tell all my friends + of your discovery.” + </p> + <p> + And she hastened on with the Prophet in search of the great Towle. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll get him to back Eureka up, and then it will be quite safe,” she + said. “Ah! there he is with Harriet Browne, the demonstrator from the + Rye.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, at this moment a small crowd was visible in one of the further + drawing-rooms, moving obsequiously along in reverent attendance upon the + great Towle, Mrs. Bridgeman and a thickset, red-faced lady, without a + waist and plainly clad in untrimmed linsey-wolsey, who was speaking + authoritatively to a hysterical-looking young girl, upon whose narrow + shoulder she rested a heavy, fat-fingered hand as she walked. + </p> + <p> + “Harriet’s evidently going to demonstrate,” added Lady Enid. “That’s + lucky, because then I can get a quiet word with Towle.” + </p> + <p> + “Demonstrate?” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She’s the great Christian Scientist and has the healing power. She + demonstrated over Agatha Marshall’s left ear. You know. The case got into + the papers. Ah, Harriet, darling!” + </p> + <p> + “My blessing! My Minerva!” said Harriet in a thick and guttural voice. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Enid, Harriet love, to-night. Eureka says I’m astral. Oh, Mr. Towle, + what an honour to meet you—what an honour for us all!” + </p> + <p> + The great Towle ducked and scraped in cabman fashion. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, will you materialise for us to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” cried Mrs. Bridgeman, trembling with excitement. “He’s + promised to after supper. He says he feels less material then—more + <i>en rapport</i> with the dear spirits.” + </p> + <p> + “How delightful! Mr. Towle, tell me, do you agree with Eureka? I await + your fiat. Am I astral?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, miss, as like as not,” said the great man, twisting his lips as if + they held a straw between them. “Astral, that’s it. That’s it to a T.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’m Lady Enid Thistle, my ancestress, who’s always with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay! Every bit of her. Her ladyship to a T.” + </p> + <p> + The company was much impressed, and whispers of “It’s Lady Enid; Eureka + and Mr. Towle say it’s her ladyship in the astral plane!” flew like + wildfire through the rooms. + </p> + <p> + At this point Harriet Browne, who was sufficiently Christian and + scientific to like to have all the attention of the company centred upon + her, cleared her throat loudly and exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “If I am to heal this poor sufferer, I must be provided with an armchair.” + </p> + <p> + “An armchair for Mrs. Browne!” + </p> + <p> + “Fetch a chair for Harriet!” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Harriet can’t demonstrate without a chair!” + </p> + <p> + “What is she going to do?” whispered the Prophet to Lady Enid, feeling + thoroughly ashamed of his ignorance. + </p> + <p> + “Demonstrate.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but what’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “Put her hands over that girl and think about her.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she do it out of kindness?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. But she’s paid something, not because she wants to be paid, + but because it’s the rule.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + An armchair was now wheeled forward, and Mrs. Harriet ensconced herself in + it comfortably. + </p> + <p> + “I’m very tired to-night,” she remarked in her thick voice. “I’ve had a + hard afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor darling!” cried Mrs. Bridgeman. “Fetch a glass of champagne for Mrs. + Harriet somebody. Oh, would you, Mr. Brummich?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brummich, a gentleman with a remarkably foolish, ascetic face and a + feebly-wandering sandy beard, was just about to hasten religiously towards + the Moorish nook when the great Towle happened, by accident, to groan. + Mrs. Bridgeman, started and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, and a glass of champagne for Mr. Towle, too, dear Mr. Brummich!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Mrs. Bridgeman!” said dear Mr. Brummich, hurrying off with the + demeanour of the head of an Embassy entrusted with some important mission + to a foreign Court. + </p> + <p> + “Were you at work this afternoon, Harriet, beloved?” inquired Mrs. + Bridgeman of Mrs. Browne, who was leaning back in the armchair with her + eyes closed and in an attitude of severe prostration. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Which was it, lovebird? Hysteric Henry?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he’s cured.” + </p> + <p> + Cries of joy resounded from those gathered about the chair. + </p> + <p> + “Hysteric Henry’s cured!” + </p> + <p> + “Henry’s better!” + </p> + <p> + “The poor man with the ball in his throat’s been saved!” + </p> + <p> + “How wonderful you are, Harriet, sweet!” cried Mrs. Bridgeman. “But, then + which was it?” + </p> + <p> + “The madwoman at Brussels. I’ve been thinking about her for two hours this + afternoon, with only a cup of tea between.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor darling! No wonder you’re done up! Ought you to demonstrate? Ah! + here’s the champagne!” + </p> + <p> + “I take it merely as medicine,” said Mrs. Harriet. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, Mr. Brummich, flushed with assiduity, burst into the + circle with a goblet of beaded wine in either hand. There was a moment of + solemn silence while Mrs. Harriet and the great Towle condescended to the + Pommery. It was broken only by a loud gulp from the hysterical-looking + girl who was, it seemed, nervously affected by an imitative spasm, and who + suddenly began to swallow nothing with extreme persistence and violence. + </p> + <p> + “Look at that poor misguided soul!” ejaculated Mrs. Harriet, with her lips + to the Pommery. “She fancies she’s drinking!” + </p> + <p> + The poor, misguided soul, yielded again to her distraught imagination, + amid the pitiful ejaculations of the entire company, with the exception of + one mundane, young man who, suddenly assailed by the wild fancy that he + wasn’t drinking, crept furtively to the Moorish rook, and was no more + seen. + </p> + <p> + “Give her a cushion!” continued Mrs. Harriet, authoritatively. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brummich!” said Mrs. Bridgeman. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brummich ran, and returned with a cushion. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, poor thing! Sit at my feet!” said Mrs. Harriet, giving the + hysterical-looking girl a healing push. + </p> + <p> + The girl subsided in a piteous heap, and Mrs. Harriet, who had by this + time taken all her medicine, leant over her and inquired,— + </p> + <p> + “Where d’you feel it?” + </p> + <p> + The girl put her hands to her head. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” she said feebly. “It’s like fire running over me and drums + beating.” + </p> + <p> + “Fire and drums!” announced Mrs. Harriet to the staring assembly. “That’s + what she’s got, poor soul!” + </p> + <p> + Ejaculations of sympathy and horror made themselves heard. + </p> + <p> + “Drums! How shocking!” cried Mrs. Bridgeman. “Can you cure even drums, + Harriet, my own?” + </p> + <p> + “Give me ten minutes, Catherine! I ask but that!” + </p> + <p> + And, so saying, Mrs. Harriet planted her fat hands upon the head of the + young patient, closed her eyes and began to breathe very hard. + </p> + <p> + Silence now fell upon the people, who said not a word, but who could not + prevent themselves from rustling as they pressed about this exhibition of + a latter-day apostle. The Prophet and Lady Enid were close to the + armchair, and the Prophet, who had never before been present at any such + ceremony—it was accompanied by the twenty guitars, now tearing out + the serenade, “From the bull-ring I come to thee!”—was so interested + that he completely forgot Mr. and Madame Sagittarius, and lost for the + moment all memory of Sir Tiglath. The silly life engrossed him. He had no + eyes for anyone but Mrs. Harriet, who, as she leaned forward in the chair + with closed eyes, looked like a determined middle-aged man about to offer + up the thin girl on the footstool as a burnt sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + “You’re better now, poor thing,” said Mrs. Harriet, after five minutes has + elapsed. “You’re feeling much better?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I’m not!” said the girl, shaking her head under the hands of the + demonstrator. “The fire’s blazing and the drums are beating like + anything.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Harriet’s hue deepened, and there was a faint murmur of vague reproof + from the company. + </p> + <p> + “H’sh!” said the demonstrator, closing her hands upon the patient’s head + with some acrimony. “H’sh!” + </p> + <p> + And she began to breathe hard once more. Another five minutes elapsed, and + then Mrs. Harriet exclaimed with decision,— + </p> + <p> + “There! It’s gone now, all gone! I’ve sent it right away. The fire’s out + and the drums have stopped beating!” + </p> + <p> + Exclamations of wonder and joy rose up from the spectators. They were, + however, a trifle premature, for the hysterical girl—who was, it + seemed, a person of considerable determination, despite her feeble + appearance—replied from the footstool,— + </p> + <p> + “No, it isn’t. No they haven’t!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Harriet developed a purple shade. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” she said. “You’re cured, love, entirely cured!” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not,” said the girl, beginning to cry. “I feel much worse since you + pressed my head.” + </p> + <p> + There was a burst of remonstrance from the crowd, and Mrs. Harriet, + speaking with the air of an angry martyr, remarked,— + </p> + <p> + “It’s just like the drinking—she fancies she isn’t cured when she + is, just the same as she fancied she was drinking when she wasn’t.” + </p> + <p> + This unanswerable logic naturally carried conviction to everyone present, + and the hysterical girl was warmly advised to make due acknowledgement of + the benefits received by her at the healing hands of Mrs. Harriet, while + the latter was covered with compliments and assiduously conducted towards + the buffet, escorted by the great Towle. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t she wonderful?” said Mrs. Bridgeman, turning ecstatically to the + person nearest to her, who happened to be the saturnine little clergyman. + “Isn’t she marvellous, Mr.—er—Mr. Segerteribus?” + </p> + <p> + “Biggle!” cried the little clergyman. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon?” + </p> + <p> + “Biggle!” vociferated the little clergyman. “Biggle!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Did you ever see anything like that cure? Ah! you ought to + preach about dear Harriet, Mr. Segerteribus, you really—” + </p> + <p> + “Biggle!” reiterated the little clergyman, excitedly. “Biggle! Biggle!” + </p> + <p> + “What does he—” began Mrs. Bridgeman, turning helplessly towards the + Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “It’s his name, I fancy,” whispered the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bridgeman started and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Biggle,” she said. + </p> + <p> + The little clergyman moved on towards the guitars with all the air of a + future colonial bishop. Mrs. Bridgeman, who seemed to be somewhat + confused, and whose manner grew increasingly vague as the evening wore on, + now said to those nearest to her,— + </p> + <p> + “There are fifteen tables set out—yes, set out,—in the green + boudoir.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedad!” remarked an Irish colonel, “then it’s meself’ll enjoy a good + rubber.” + </p> + <p> + “For table-turning,” added Mrs. Bridgeman. “Materialisation in the same + room after supper. Mr. Towle—yes—will enter the cabinet at + about eleven. Where’s Madame Charlotte?” + </p> + <p> + “Looking into the crystal for Lady Ferrier,” said someone. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, and the professor?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s reading Archdeacon Andrew’s nose, by the cloak-room.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bridgeman sighed. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to be going off quite pleasantly,” she said vaguely to the + Prophet. “I think—perhaps—might I have a cup of tea?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet offered his arm. Mrs. Bridgeman took it. They walked forward, + and almost instantly came upon Sir Tiglath Butt, who, with a face even + redder than usual, was rolling away from the hall of the guitars, holding + one enormous hand to his ear and snorting indignantly at the various + clairvoyants, card-readers, spiritualists and palmists whom he encountered + at every step he took. The Prophet turned pale, and Lady Enid, who was + just behind him, put on her most sensible expression and moved quickly + forward. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Sir Tiglath!” she said. “How delightful of you to come! Catherine, + dear, let me introduce Sir Tiglath Butt to you. Sir Tiglath Butt—Mrs. + Vane Bridgeman.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bridgeman behaved as usual. + </p> + <p> + “So glad!” she said. “So enchanted! Just a few interesting people. So good + of you to come. Table-turning is—” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Lady Enid nipped her friend’s arm, and Sir Tiglath + exclaimed, looking from Mrs. Bridgeman to the Prophet,— + </p> + <p> + “What, madam? So you’re the brain and eye, eh? Is that it?” + </p> + <p> + The guitars engaged in “The Gipsies of Granada are wild as mountain + birds,” and Mrs. Bridgeman looked engagingly distraught, and replied,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, indeed! The brain and I, Sir Tiglath; so good of you to say so!” + </p> + <p> + “You prompted his interest in the holy stars?” continued Sir Tiglath, + speaking very loud, and still stopping one ear with his hand. “You drove + him to the telescope; you told him to clear the matter up, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “What matter?” said Mrs. Bridgeman, trying not to look as stupid as she + felt, but only with moderate success. + </p> + <p> + “Say the oxygen, darling,” whispered Lady Enid in one of her ears. + </p> + <p> + “Say the oxygen!” hissed the Prophet into the other. + </p> + <p> + “The occiput?” said Mrs. Bridgeman, hearing imperfectly. “Oh, yes, Sir + Tiglath, I told him,—I told Mr. Biggle—to make quite sure—yes, + as to the occiput matter.” + </p> + <p> + The saturnine little clergyman, who was again in motion near by, caught + his name and stopped, as Sir Tiglath, roaring against “The Gipsies of + Granada,” continued,— + </p> + <p> + “And your original adviser was Mr. Sagittarius, was he?” + </p> + <p> + On hearing a word she understood, Mrs. Bridgeman brightened up, and, + perceiving the little clergyman, she answered,— + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sagittarius—ah, yes! Sir Tiglath is speaking of you, Mr. + Sagittarius.” + </p> + <p> + The little clergyman turned almost black in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Biggle!” he exclaimed, in a voice of thunder. “Biggle! Biggle!” + </p> + <p> + And, without further parley, he rushed to the cloak-room, seized someone + else’s hat and coat, and fared forth into the night. Lady Enid, who had + meant to coach Mrs. Bridgeman very carefully for the meeting with Sir + Tiglath, but whose plans were completely upset by the astronomer’s + premature advent, now endeavoured to interpose. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” she said, in a very calm voice, “where is dear Mr. + Sagittarius? I haven’t seen him yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid he’s angry with me,” said Mrs. Bridgeman, alluding to the + little clergyman. “I really can’t think why.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Tiglath,” said Lady Enid, boldly taking the astronomer’s arm. “Come + with me. I want you to find Mr. Sagittarius for me. Yes, they do make + rather a noise!” + </p> + <p> + This was in allusion to the guitars, for the astronomer had now placed + both hands over his ears in the vain endeavour to exclude “The Gipsies.” + Deafness, perhaps, rendered him yielding. In any case, he permitted Lady + Enid to detach him from Mrs. Bridgeman and to lead him through the rooms + in search of Mr. Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he’s here,” said Lady Enid, entering a darkened chamber. “Oh, + no!” + </p> + <p> + And she hastily moved away, perceiving a large number of devoted adherents + of table-tapping busily engaged, with outspread fingers and solemn faces, + at their intellectual pursuit. Avoiding the archdeacon, who was now having + his nose read by the professor, she conducted the astronomer, rendered + strangely meek by the guitars, into a drawing-room near the hall, in which + only four people remained—Verano and Mrs. Eliza Doubleway, who were + conferring in one corner, and Mr. and Madame Sagittarius, who were + apparently having rather more than a few words together in another. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! there’s Mr. Sagittarius!” said Lady Enid. + </p> + <p> + “Minnie!” cried Mrs. Eliza, beckoning to Lady Enid. “Minnie, ducky!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid pretended not to hear and tried to hasten with the astronomer + towards the Sagittariuses. But Mrs. Eliza was not to be put off. + </p> + <p> + “Minnie, my pet!” she piped. “Come here, Minnie!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid was obliged to pause. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, dear Eliza?” she asked, at the same time making a face at the + soothsayer to indicate caution. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Eliza and Verano rose and approached Lady Enid and the astronomer. + </p> + <p> + “I was laying the cards last night at Jane Seaman’s—you know, dear, + the Angel Gabriel who lives on the Hackney Downs—and whatever do you + think? The hace of spades came up three times in conjugation with the + Knave of ‘earts!” + </p> + <p> + “Terrific! Very great!” buzzed Verano, with a strong South American Irish + brogue—a real broth of a brogue. + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful!” said Lady Enid, hastily, endeavouring to pass on. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute, darling. Well, I says to Jane—I was laying the cards + for her ‘usband, dear—I says to Jane, I says, without doubt Hisaac + is about to pass over, I says, seeing the red boy’s come up in conjugation + with the hace. ‘Lord! Mrs. Eliza! Lay them out again,’ she says, ‘for,’ + she says, ‘if Hike is going to pass over,’ she says—” + </p> + <p> + “Extraordinary, dear Mrs. Eliza! You’re a genius!” cried Lady Enid in + despair. + </p> + <p> + “Tremendous! Very big!” buzzed Verano, staring at Sir Tiglath. “You got a + very spatulate hand there, sir! Allow me!” + </p> + <p> + And to Lady Enid’s horror he seized the astronomer’s hand with both his + own. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you tamper with the old astronomer, sir?” roared Sir Tiglath. + “Am I in a madhouse? Who are all these crazy Janes! Drop my hand, sir!” + </p> + <p> + Verano obeyed rather hastily, and Lady Enid convoyed the spluttering + astronomer towards the corner which contained Mr. and Madame Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + Now these worthies were in a mental condition of a most complicated kind. + The reception at Zoological House had upset in an hour the theories and + beliefs of a lifetime. Hitherto Madame had always been filled with shame + at the thought that she was not the wife of an architect but of a prophet, + and Mr. Sagittarius had endeavoured to assume the mein and costume of an + outside broker, and had dreamed dreams of retiring eventually from a hated + and despised profession. But now they found themselves in a magnificent + mansion in which the second-rate members of their own tribe were + worshipped and adored, smothered with attentions, plied with Pommery and + looked upon as gods, while they, in their incognito, were neglected, and + paid no more heed to than if they had been, in reality, mere architects + and outside brokers, totally unconnected with that mysterious occult world + which is the fashion of the moment. + </p> + <p> + This position of affairs had, not unnaturally, thrown then into a + condition of the gravest excitement. Madame, more especially, had reached + boiling point. Feeling herself, for the first time, an Imperial creature + in exile, who had only to declare herself to receive instant homage and to + be overwhelmed with the most flattering attentions, her lust of glory + developed with alarming rapidity, and she urged her husband to cast the + traditions that had hitherto guided him to the winds and to declare + forthwith his identity with Malkiel the Second, the business-like and as + it were official head of the whole prophetic tribe. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sagittarius, for his part, was also fired with the longing for instant + glory, but he was by nature an extremely timid—or shall we say + rather, an extremely prudent—man. He remembered the repeated + injunctions of his great forebear who had lived and died in the Susan Road + beside the gasworks. More, he remembered Sir Tiglath Butt. He was torn + between ambition and terror. + </p> + <p> + “Declare yourself, Jupiter!” cried Madame. “Declare yourself this moment!” + </p> + <p> + “My love!” replied Mr. Sagittarius. “My angel, we must reflect.” + </p> + <p> + “I have reflected,” retorted Madame. + </p> + <p> + “There are difficulties, my dear, many difficulties in the way.” + </p> + <p> + “And what if there are? <i>Per augustum ad augustibus</i>. Every fool + knows that.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, you are a little hard upon me.” + </p> + <p> + “And what have you been upon me, I should like to know? What about those + goings-on with the woman Bridgeman? What about your investigations with + that hussy Minerva? You’ve been her owl, that’s what you’ve been!” + </p> + <p> + She began to show grave symptoms of hysteria. Mr. Sagittarius patted her + hands in great anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “My love, I have told you, I have sworn—” + </p> + <p> + “And what man doesn’t swear whenever he gets the chance?” cried Madame. + “Why did I ever marry? <i>Heu miserum me</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “My angel, be calm. I assure you—” + </p> + <p> + “Very well then, declare yourself, Jupiter, this minute, or I’ll declare + yourself for you!” + </p> + <p> + “But, my love, think of Sir Tiglath! I dare not declare myself. He will be + here at any moment, and he has sworn to kill me, if I’m not an American + syndicate!” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish!” + </p> + <p> + “But, my—” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish! That’s only what Mr. Vivian says.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Besides, you can put on your <i>toga virilibus</i> and knock him down. + It’s no use talking to me, Jupiter.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it isn’t, my darling, I know. But—” + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t declare yourself I shall declare yourself for you this very + moment. I will not endure to be left in the corner while all these + nobodies are being truckled to. Bernard Wilkins, indeed! A prophet we + wouldn’t so much as recognise to be a prophet, and that there Mrs. Eliza—people + from the Wick going down to supper in front of us, and a man from the + Butts put before you! It’s right down disgusting, and I won’t have it.” + </p> + <p> + It was exactly at this point in the matrimonial conference that Lady Enid + and Sir Tiglath Butt, shaking themselves free of Mrs. Eliza and Verano, + bore down upon Mr. and Madame Sagittarius, who were so busily engaged in + disputation that they did not perceive that anyone was near until Lady + Enid touched Mr. Sagittarius upon the arm. + </p> + <p> + That gentleman started violently and, on perceiving Sir Tiglath Butt, who + was positively sputtering with wrath at the palmistic attentions paid to + him by Verano, shrank against his wife, who pushed him vigorously from + her, and, getting upon her feet, announced in a loud voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Jupiter, since you won’t declare yourself I shall go at once + to the woman Bridgeman and declare yourself for you!” + </p> + <p> + And with this remark she scowled at Lady Enid and walked majestically + away, tossing her head vehemently at Mrs. Eliza and Verano as she swept + into the adjoining drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” said Lady Enid, with great curiosity. “Dear me, Mr. + Sagittarius, is your wife going to make a declaration? This is most + interesting!” + </p> + <p> + And, moved by her besetting idiosyncrasy, she added to the astronomer, + “Excuse me,” Sir Tiglath, “I’ll be back in one moment!” and glided swiftly + away in the wake of Madame, leaving Mr. Sagittarius and his deadliest foe + <i>tete-a-tete</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Is this a madhouse, sir?” cried Sir Tiglath, on being thus abandoned. + “The old astronomer demands to know at once if one is, or is not, in a + vast madhouse?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, sir, indeed,” replied Mr. Sagittarius. “I should not like + to express an opinion on the point. If you will excu—” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, the old astronomer will not excuse you,” roared Sir Tiglath, + forcibly preventing Mr. Sagittarius, who was pale as ashes, from escaping + into the farther room. “He will not be run away from by everybody in this + manner.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon, sir, I had no intention of running away,” said Mr. + Sagittarius, making one last despairing effort to assume his <i>toga + virilibus</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you do it, sir? Tell the old astronomer that!” cried Sir + Tiglath, seizing him by the arm. “And tell him, moreover, what you and the + old female Bridgeman have been about together?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, sir; I swear that Mrs. Bridgeman and myself have never—” + </p> + <p> + “Never made investigations into the possibility of there being oxygen in + many of the holy stars? Do you affirm that, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I do!” cried Mr. Sagittarius. “I am an outside broker.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you affirm that you are no astronomer, sir? Do you declare that you + are not a man of science?” + </p> + <p> + “I do! I do!” + </p> + <p> + “Not an astronomer of remarkable attainments, but very modest and retiring + withal? Oh-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + “Modest and retiring, sir?” cried Mr. Sagittarius, suddenly illumined by a + ray of hope. “That’s just it! I am a modest and retiring outside broker, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + And he violently endeavoured to prove the truth of the words by escaping + forthwith into obscurity. + </p> + <p> + “There never was a modest and retiring outside broker!” bellowed Sir + Tiglath. “There never was, and there never will be. The old—” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” interrupted Mr. Sagittarius. “Whatever’s that?” + </p> + <p> + For at this moment an extraordinary hum of voices made itself audible + above the fifty guitars, and a noise of many feet trampling eagerly upon + Mrs. Bridgeman’s parquet grew louder and louder in the brilliant rooms. + Attracted by the uproar, Sir Tiglath paused for a moment, still keeping + his hand upon the lapel of Mr. Ferdinand’s coat, however. The noise + increased. It was evident that a multitude of people was rapidly + approaching. Words uttered by the moving guests, exclamations, and + ejaculations of excitement now detached themselves from the general + murmur. + </p> + <p> + “The Prophet from the Mouse!” + </p> + <p> + “The great Malkiel here!” + </p> + <p> + “The founder of the almanac!” + </p> + <p> + “The greatest Prophet of the age!” + </p> + <p> + “Malkiel the Second from the Mouse!” + </p> + <p> + “Where is Malkiel?” + </p> + <p> + “We must find Malkiel!” + </p> + <p> + “We must see Malkiel!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it really Malkiel?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is it <i>the</i> Malkiel? Where—where is Malkiel?” + </p> + <p> + Such cries as these broke upon the ears of the astronomer and Mr. + Sagittarius. + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath grew purple. + </p> + <p> + “Malkiel who has insulted the holy stars here!” he roared, letting go of + Mr. Sagittarius. “Where—where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “In there, sir, I verily believe!” cried Mr. Sagittarius, pointing in the + direction of the crowd with a hand that shook like all the leaves in + Vallombrosa. + </p> + <p> + “Let me find him!” shouted the astronomer. “Let me only discover him! I’ll + break every bone in his accursed body.” + </p> + <p> + And with this rather bald statement he rolled out of the room in one + direction, while Mr. Sagittarius, without more ado, cast aside his <i>toga + virilibus</i> and darted out of it into another, just as Madame escorted + by Mrs. Bridgeman, Lady Enid, the great Towle and the whole of the company + assembled at Zoological House, appeared majestically—and proceeding + as an Empress—in the aperture of the main doorway. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <h3> + MRS. MERILLIA HEATS THE POKER + </h3> + <p> + When Mr. Sagittarius, running at his fullest speed, emerged from + Zoological House, wearing the hat and coat that the saturnine little + clergyman had left behind him, the night was damp and gusty. As he + hastened down the drive, and the sound of twenty guitars, playing “Oh + would I were a Spaniard among you lemon groves!” died away in the lighted + mansion behind him, he heard the roaring of the beasts in the gardens + close by. In the wet darkness it sounded peculiarly terrific. He + shuddered, and, holding up Mr. Ferdinand’s trousers with both hands, + hurried onward through the mire, whither he knew not. His only thought was + that all was now discovered and that his life was in danger. A woman’s + vanity had wrecked his future. He must hide somewhere for the night, and + get away in the morning, perhaps on board some tramp steamer bound for + Buenos Ayres, or on a junk weighing anchor for Hayti or Java, or some + other distant place. Vague memories of books he had read when a boy came + back to him as he ran through the unkempt wilds of the Regent’s Park. He + saw himself a stowaway hidden in a hold, alone with rats and ships’ + biscuits. He saw himself working his way out before the mast, sent aloft + in hurricanes on pitch-black nights, or turning the wheel the wrong way + round and bringing the ship to wreck upon iron-bound coasts swarming with + sharks and savages. The lions roared again, and the black panthers snarled + behind their prison bars. He thought of the peaceful waters of the river + Mouse, of the library of Madame, of the happy little circle of architects + and their wives, of all that he must leave. + </p> + <p> + What wonder if he dropped a tear into the muddy road? What wonder if a sob + rent the bosom of Mr. Ferdinand’s now disordered shirt front? On and on + Mr. Sagittarius—or Malkiel the Second, as he may from henceforth be + called—went blindly, on and on till the Park was left behind, till + crescents gave way to squares, and squares to streets. He passed an + occasional policeman and slunk away from the penetrating bull’s-eye. He + heard now and then the far-off rattle of a cab, the shrill cry of a + whistle, the howl of a butler summoning a vehicle, the coo of a cook + bidding good-night to the young tradesman whom she loved before the area + gate. And all these familiar London sounds struck strangely on his ear. + When would he hear them again? Perhaps never. He stumbled on blinded with + emotion. + </p> + <p> + Dogs, we know are guided by a strange instinct to find their homes even by + unfamiliar paths. Pigeons will fly across wide spaces and drop down to the + wicker cage that awaits them. And it would appear that prophets are not + without a certain faculty that may be called topographical. For how else + can the following fact be explained? Malkiel the Second, after apparently + endless wandering, found himself totally unable to proceed further. His + legs gave way beneath him. His breath failed. His brain swam. He reeled, + stretched forth his hands and clutched at the nearest support. This + chanced to be a railing, wet, slimy, cold. He grasped it, leaned against + it, and for a few moments remained where he was in a sort of trance. Then, + gradually, full consciousness returned. He glanced up and beheld the black + garden of a square. Somehow it looked familiar. He seemed to know those + shadowy, leafless trees, the roadway between him and them, even the + pavement upon which his boots—his own boots—were set. His + lack-lustre eyes travelled to the houses that bordered the square, then to + the house against whose area railings he was leaning, and he started with + amazement. For he was in Berkeley Square, leaning against the railing of + number one thousand. He gazed up at the windows. One or two faint lights + twinkled. Then perhaps the household had not yet retired for the night. An + idea seized him. He must rest. He must snatch a brief interval of repose, + before starting for the docks at dawn to find a ship in whose hold he + could seek seclusion, till the great seas roared round her, and he could + declare himself to the captain and crew without fear of being put ashore. + Why not rest here in number one thousand? True, the Prophet would + presently be returning possibly with Madame, but he would bribe Mr. + Ferdinand not to mention his whereabouts. It was no doubt a very rash + proceeding, but he was utterly exhausted, he felt that he could go no + further, he found himself before an almost friendly door. What wonder then + if he tottered up the steps and tapped feebly upon it? There was no + answer. He tapped again more loudly. This time his summons was heard. + Steps approached. There was a moment’s pause. Then the door opened, and + Gustavus appeared looking rather sleepy, but still decidedly intellectual. + Malkiel the Second pulled himself together and faced the footman boldly. + </p> + <p> + “You know me?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Gustavus examined him closely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” he replied at length. “By the clothes. I should know Mr. + Ferdinand’s trouserings among a thousand.” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel the Second realised that emotion probably rendered his face + unrecognisable. But at least his legs spoke for him. That was something, + and he continued, with an attempt at ease and boldness,— + </p> + <p> + “Right! I have returned to change them.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Mr. Ferdinand has retired to bed, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t wake him. I can just leave them for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir.” + </p> + <p> + And Gustavus admitted Malkiel to the dimly-lit hall and shut the door + softly. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name, young man?” said Malkiel, whispering. + </p> + <p> + “Gustavus, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Gustavus, would you like to earn a hundred pounds to-night?” + </p> + <p> + Gustavus started. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t say as how I’d rather not, sir,” he replied. “I don’t go so far + as to say that.” + </p> + <p> + “Right! Do as I tell you and you will earn a hundred pounds.” + </p> + <p> + The footman’s eyes began to glow, almost like a cat’s in the twilight. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I could buy the library near twelve times over,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “The library?” said Malkiel, whose brain had suddenly become strangely + clear. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir—Dr. Carter’s,” returned Gustavus, beginning to tremble. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Carter’s!” whispered Malkiel, excitedly. “I should think so. Eight + guineas and a half, and you pay in instalments.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do it, sir,” hissed Gustavus, utterly carried away by the prospect. + “What d’you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “First to let me change my clothes quickly, then to hide me somewhere so + as I can get a sleep till dawn. Call me directly it begins to get light + and I shall be off to the docks.” + </p> + <p> + “The docks, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay. I start for—for Java to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Java, sir—what, where the sparrows and the jelly—” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay,” returned Malkiel, secretly rehearsing his new nautical role. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do it sir. And the hundred?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll write you an order on my banker’s. You can trust me. Now let me + change my clothes. Quick!” + </p> + <p> + “They’re in Mr. Vivian’s bedroom, ain’t they?” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel nodded. + </p> + <p> + “You must go very soft, sir, because of the old lady. She’s abed, but she + might be wakeful, specially to-night. She’s been awful upset. My word, she + has!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go as soft as a mouse,” whispered Malkiel. “Show me the way.” + </p> + <p> + Gustavus advanced on tiptoe towards the staircase, followed by Malkiel, + who held Mr. Ferdinand’s clothes together lest they should rustle, and + proceeded with the most infinite precaution. In this manner they gained + the second floor and neared the bedroom door of Mrs. Merillia. Here + Gustavus turned round, pointed to the door, and put his finger to his + pouting lips, at the same time rounding his hazel eyes and shaking his + powdered head in a most warning manner. Malkiel nodded, held Mr. + Ferdinand’s clothes tighter, and stole on, as he thought, without making a + sound. What was his horror, then, just as he was passing Mrs. Merillia’s + door, to hear a voice cry,— + </p> + <p> + “Hennessey! Hennessey!” + </p> + <p> + Gustavus and Malkiel stopped dead, as if they had both been shot. They now + perceived that the door was partially open, and that a faint light shone + within the room. + </p> + <p> + “Hennessey!” cried the voice of Mrs. Merillia again. “Come in here. I must + speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + Gustavus darted on into the darkness of the Prophet’s room, but Malkiel + the Second was so alarmed that he stayed where he was, finding himself + totally incapable of movement. + </p> + <p> + “Hennessey!” repeated the voice. + </p> + <p> + Then there was a faint rustling, the door was opened more widely, and Mrs. + Merillia appeared in the aperture, clad in a most charming night bonnet, + and robed in a dressing-gown of white watered silk. + </p> + <p> + “The ratcatcher!” she cried. “The ratcatcher!” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel turned and darted down the stairs, while Mrs. Merillia, in the + extreme of terror, shut her door, locked it as many times as she could, + and then hastened trembling to the bell which communicated with the + faithful Mrs. Fancy, rang it, and dropped half fainting into a chair. Mrs. + Fancy woke from her second dream just as Malkiel, closely followed by the + now shattered Gustavus, reached the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Hide me! Hide me!” whispered Malkiel. “In here!” + </p> + <p> + And he darted into the servants’ quarters, leaving Gustavus on the mat. + Mrs. Merillia’s other bell now pealed shrilly downstairs. Gustavus paused + and pulled himself together. He was by nature a fairly intrepid youth, and + moreover, he had recently made a close study of Carlyle’s <i>Heroes and + Hero-worship</i>, which greatly impressed him. He therefore resolved in + this moment of peril to acquit himself in similar circumstances, and he + remounted the stairs and reached Mrs. Merillia’s door just as Mrs. Fancy, + wrapped in a woollen shawl and wearing a pair of knitted night-socks, + descended to the landing, candle in hand. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Gustavus!” said Mrs. Fancy. “Is it the robbers again? Is it + murder, Mr. Gustavus? Is it fire?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, Mrs. Fancy, I’ll ask the mistress.” + </p> + <p> + He tapped upon the door. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t come in!” cried poor Mrs. Merillia, who was losing her head + perhaps for the first time in her life. “You can’t come in, and if you do + I shall give you in charge to the police.” + </p> + <p> + And she rang both her bells again. + </p> + <p> + “Ma’am!” said Gustavus, knocking once more. “Ma’am!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no use your knocking,” returned Mrs. Merillia. “The door is bolted. + Go away, go away!” + </p> + <p> + And again she rang her two bells. + </p> + <p> + “Madam!” piped Mrs. Fancy. “Madam! It’s me!” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Mrs. Merillia. “I know it’s you! I saw you! Leave the house + unless you wish to be at once put in prison.” + </p> + <p> + Her bells pealed. Mrs. Fancy began to sob. + </p> + <p> + “Me to leave the house!” she wailed. “Me to go to prison!” + </p> + <p> + “Bear up, Mrs. Fancy, she doesn’t know who it is!” said Gustavus. “Ma’am! + Ma’am! Missis! Missis!” + </p> + <p> + “I am ringing,” said Mrs. Merillia, in a muffled manner through the door. + “I am summoning assistance! You will be captured if you don’t go away.” + </p> + <p> + And again she pealed her bells. This time, as she did so, the tingling of + a third bell became audible in the silent house. + </p> + <p> + “Lord!” cried Gustavus, “if there isn’t the hall door. It must be master. + He left his key to-night. Here’s a nice go!” + </p> + <p> + The three bells raised their piercing chorus. Mrs. Fancy sobbed, and + Gustavus, after a terrible moment of hesitation, bounded down the hall. + His instinct had not played him false. The person who had rung the bell + was indeed the Prophet, who had basely slunk away from Zoological House, + leaving Madame surrounded by her new and adoring friends. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Gustavus,” he said, entering. “Take my coat, please. What’s + that?” + </p> + <p> + For Mrs. Merillia’s bells struck shrilly upon his astonished ears. + </p> + <p> + “I think it’s Mrs. Merillia, sir. She keeps on ringing.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Merillia. At this hour! Heavens! Is she ill?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, sir. She keeps ringing; but when I answer it she says, ‘Go + away!’ she says. ‘Go—’ she says, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How very strange!” + </p> + <p> + And the Prophet bounded upstairs and arrived at his grandmother’s door + just in time to hear her cry out, in reply to poor Mrs. Fancy’s distracted + knocking,— + </p> + <p> + “If you try to break in you will be put in prison at once. I hear + assistance coming. I hear the police. Go away, you wicked, wicked man!” + </p> + <p> + “Grannie!” cried the Prophet through the keyhole. “Grannie, let me in! + Grannie! Grannie! Don’t ring! Grannie! Grannie!” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Merillia was now completely out of herself, and her only response + to her grandson’s appeal was to place her trembling fingers upon the two + bells, and to reply, through their uproar,— + </p> + <p> + “It is useless for you to say that. I know who you are. I saw you. I shall + go on ringing as long as I can stand. I shall die ringing, but I shall + never let you in. Go away! Go away!” + </p> + <p> + “What does she mean?” cried the Prophet, turning to Gustavus. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know indeed, sir,” replied the footman, thinking of Mr. Carter’s + library. “I couldn’t say indeed, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my poor missis!” wailed Mrs. Fancy, trembling in her night-socks. + “Oh, my poor dear missis! I can’t speak different nor mean other. Oh, + missis, missis!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Fancy!” said the Prophet, in the greatest distraction. “Grannie! + Grannie!” + </p> + <p> + And seizing the handle of the door he shook it violently. Mrs. Merillia + was now very naturally under the impression that the ratcatcher was + determined to break in and murder her without more ado. Extreme danger + often seems to exercise a strangely calming influence upon the human soul. + So it was now. Upon hearing her bedroom door quivering under the assault + of the Prophet, Mrs. Merillia was abruptly invaded by a sort of desperate + courage. She left the bells, tottered to the grate in which a good fire + was blazing, seized the poker and thrust it between the bars and into the + heart of the flames, at the same time crying out in a quavering but + determined voice,— + </p> + <p> + “I am heating the poker! If you come in you will repent it. I am heating + the poker!” + </p> + <p> + On hearing this remark, the Prophet desisted from his assault upon the + door, overcome by the absolute conviction that his beloved grandmother was + suffering from a pronounced form of homicidal mania. His affection + prompted him to keep such a catastrophe secret as long as possible, and he + therefore turned to Mrs. Fancy and Gustavus, and said hurriedly,— + </p> + <p> + “This is a matter for me alone. Mrs. Fancy, please go away at once. + Gustavus, you will accompany Mrs. Fancy.” + </p> + <p> + His manner was so firm, his face so iron in its determination, that Mrs. + Fancy and Gustavus dared not proffer a word. They turned away and + disappeared softly down the stairs, to wait the <i>denouement</i> of this + tragedy in the hall below. Meantime the poker was growing red hot in the + coals, and Mrs. Merillia announced to the supposed ratcatcher,— + </p> + <p> + “I can hear you—I hear you breathing—” (the Prophet + endeavoured not to breathe). “I hear you rustling, but you can’t touch me. + The poker is red hot.” + </p> + <p> + And she drew it smoking from the grate and approached the door, holding it + in her delicate hand like a weapon. + </p> + <p> + “Grannie!” said the Prophet, making his voice as much like it generally + was as he possibly could. “Dearest grannie!” + </p> + <p> + “I dare you to come in!” replied Mrs. Merillia, in an almost formidable + manner. “I dare you to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not coming in, grannie,” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Then go away!” said Mrs. Merillia. “Go away—and let me hear you + going.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden idea struck the Prophet. He did not say another word, but + immediately walked downstairs, tramping heavily and shaking the wood + balusters violently at every step he took. His ruse succeeded. Hearing the + intruder depart, Mrs. Merillia’s curious courage deserted her, she dropped + the poker into the grate, and once more set both bells going with all her + might and main. The Prophet let her ring for nearly five minutes, then he + bounded once more upstairs and tapped very gently on the door. + </p> + <p> + “Grannie,” he cried, “are you ringing? What is it?” + </p> + <p> + This time Mrs. Merillia recognised his voice, tottered to the door, + unlocked it, and fell, trembling, into his anxious arms. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Hennessey!” she gasped. “Oh—Hennessey!” + </p> + <p> + “Grannie, what is it? What on earth is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “The ratcatcher! The ratcatcher!” + </p> + <p> + “The ratcatcher!” cried the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “He has come back. He is here. He has been trying to break into my room.” + </p> + <p> + “What ratcatcher?” + </p> + <p> + “The one that dined to-night—the one you called your old and—and + valued—friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sagittarius?” exclaimed the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “He is here.” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen him. He has tried to murder me.” + </p> + <p> + “I will look into this at once,” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + He ran to the head of the stairs and called out,— + </p> + <p> + “Gustavus!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Come up here at once.” + </p> + <p> + Gustavus came, followed closely by Mrs. Fancy, who was in a state of + abject confusion and alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Has Mr. Sagittarius returned here—the gentleman who dined + to-night?” asked the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Gustavus hesitated, thought of Dr. Carter’s library, and replied,— + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Has anybody entered the house?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been up the whole evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And nobody has been?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Grannie, you hear what Gustavus says.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Hennessey, he is here; I saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “By the door. I heard someone, and I thought it was you. I came to the + door after calling you, and there he stood, all dirty and wet, with a huge + hat on his head” (the saturnine little clergyman was largely blessed with + brain), “and a most awful murderous expression on his face.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet began to suspect that his dear relative, upset by the tragic + events of the dinner table, had gone to sleep and had the nightmare. + </p> + <p> + “Grannie, it must have been a dream.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Hennessey, no.” + </p> + <p> + “It must indeed. I left Mr. Sagittarius at Zoological House. I feel + certain of that.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet spoke the honest truth. He fully believed that Mr. Sagittarius + was at that very moment sharing in the triumph of his wife and receiving + the worship of those who live the silly life. + </p> + <p> + “But I saw him, Hennessey,” said Mrs. Merillia, adding rather + unnecessarily, “with my own eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Grannie, darling, you must have been dreaming. At any rate, I’m here now. + Nothing can hurt you. Go to bed. Fancy will stay with you, and I swear to + you that no harm will happen to you so long as I am breathing.” + </p> + <p> + With these noble words the Prophet kissed his grandmother tenderly, + assisted Mrs. Fancy into the room, and walked downstairs quite determined + that, come what might, whether he broke a thousand oaths or not, he would + put an end forthwith to the tyranny of the couple from the Mouse and + abandon for ever the shocking pursuit of prophecy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <h3> + THE PROPHET RETIRES FROM BUSINESS + </h3> + <p> + Exactly as the Prophet arrived at his resolution the hall door bell rang + violently, and Gustavus, who had slipped down before the Prophet in order + to seek the traveller to Java in the servants’ quarters, hurried into the + hall in rather a distracted manner. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Gustavus!” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Gustavus stopped. The bell rang again. + </p> + <p> + “Gustavus,” said the Prophet, “if that is a visitor I am not at home. Mrs. + Merillia is not at home either.” + </p> + <p> + It was by this time between one and two in the morning. + </p> + <p> + “Not at home, sir. Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet concealed himself near the hat-rack, and Gustavus went softly + to the door and opened it. + </p> + <p> + “Not at home, ma’am,” the Prophet heard him say, formally. + </p> + <p> + “What d’you mean, young man?” replied the powerful voice of Madame. “Where + is my husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Ma’am?” + </p> + <p> + “Where, I say, is my husband?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn’t say, I’m sure, ma’am. But Mrs. Merillia and Mr. Vivian are not + at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Then all I can say is they ought to be in at this time of night. Permit + me to pass. Are you aware that Mr. Vivian has invited me to spend the + night here? <i>Noctes ambrosianes</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “But, ma’am, Mr. Viv—” + </p> + <p> + “That’ll do. If I have any more of your impertinence I’ll make you repent + of it. You are evidently not aware who I am.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet, by the hat-rack, did not fail to hear a new note in the deep + contralto of Madame, a note of triumph, a trumpet note of profound + conceit. His heart sank before this determined music, and it sank even + lower towards his pumps when, a moment later, he found himself confronted + by the lady, wrapped closely in the rabbit-skins, and absolutely bulging + with vanity and self-appreciation. + </p> + <p> + “What! Mr. Vivian!” began the lady. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said the Prophet, “for mercy’s sake—hush!” + </p> + <p> + And, acting upon the impulse of the moment, he suddenly seized Madame by + the hand, and hurried her through the swinging door into the servants’ + hall. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s a go,” murmured Gustavus in the greatest trepidation. “If they + don’t find the thin party I’m a josser.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the Prophet and Madame were standing face to face before the + what-not of Gustavus. + </p> + <p> + “My grandmother is awake—that is asleep,” said the Prophet. “We must + not wake her on any account.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” returned Madame, with a toss of her head, “your grandmother seems to + be a very fidgety old lady, I’m sure—although you do tell a parcel + of lies about her.” + </p> + <p> + “Lies!” said the Prophet, with some dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—lies. She don’t wear long clothes—” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon!” + </p> + <p> + “She do not. She don’t wear her hair down. She don’t put her lips to the + bottle. She don’t. Where is Mr. Sagi—where is Malkiel the Second?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea. And now, Madame, I regret that I must conduct you to your + carriage. The hour is late, my grandmother is seriously indisposed, and I + myself need rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you can’t have it,” retorted the lady with authoritative + spitefulness. “You can’t have it, not till three o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon!” said the Prophet, with trembling lips. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “I really regret that I must retire. Allow me—” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll not allow you. Where is my husband? He’s not at the Zoological + Gardens.” + </p> + <p> + “He has probably returned home.” + </p> + <p> + “To the Mouse! Then he’s a coward and an oath-breaker, and if Sir Tiglath + was to catch him I shouldn’t be sorry. Kindly lead me at once to the + telescope. I will take his place. No one shall say that Madame Malkiel + ever flinched at duty’s call. <i>Praesto et persistibus</i>. Conduct me at + once to the telescope.” + </p> + <p> + “The telescope!” cried the Prophet. “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Lawks!” cried Madame, with pronounced temper. “Did we not journey from + the Mouse a-purpose to go practically into the mystery of the dressed + Crab?” + </p> + <p> + “I really—I really cannot consent without a chaperon,” began the + Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “The wife of Malkiel the Second needs no chaperone,” retorted Madame. + “This night has altered my condition—I stand from henceforth far + beyond the reach of etiquette. The world knows me now and will not dare to + carp. <i>Carpe dies</i>.” + </p> + <p> + During the foregoing colloquy her voice had become louder and louder, and + the Prophet, dreading unspeakably lest his grandmother should be disturbed + and affrighted once more, gave up the struggle, and, without more ado, + conducted Madame into the butler’s pantry in which the telescope still + remained. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile what had become of Malkiel the Second? + </p> + <p> + When Mrs. Merillia suddenly appeared before him in her night-bonnet and + accused him of being a ratcatcher he had very naturally fled, his first + impulse being to leave the house at once and continue his journey to the + docks. But even a prophet is but mortal. Malkiel had passed through an + eventful day followed by a still more eventful evening. His mind was + completely exhausted. Even so, however, he might have continued upon his + journey towards Java had not his legs prosaically shown signs of giving + way under him just as he once more gained the hall. This decided him. He + must have some short repose at whatever cost. He therefore pushed feebly + at the nearest door, and found himself promptly in the apartment of the + upper servants. Staggering to the what-not of Gustavus, he sank down upon + it and fell into a melancholy reverie, from which he was roused by the + constant tingling cry of Mrs. Merillia’s second bell, which rang close to + where he was reposing. He tried to start up, but failed, and it was only + when the hall door bell, attacked by the Prophet, added its voice to its + companion’s that his terror lent him sufficient strength to flee very + slowly into the inner fastnesses of this unknown region. There was a light + in the servant’s hall, but darkness lay beyond and Malkiel knew not + whither he was penetrating. He barked his shins, but could not tell + against what hard substance. He bruised his elbow, but could not know what + piece of furniture had assailed it. On coming in contact with a dresser he + saw a few sparks, but they speedily died out, and he was obliged to feel + his way onward, till presently he came across a large leather chair in + which Mrs. Merillia’s cook was wont to sit while directing her + subordinates at the basting machine. Into this he sank palpitating, and + for a moment remained undisturbed. Then, to his horror, he heard in the + adjoining room the strident voice of his loved and honoured wife + apparently carrying on a decidedly vivacious argument with some person + unknown. He bounded up. Possibly she was accompanied by Sir Tiglath, who + must now be aware of his identity. In any case, her wrath at his scarcely + chivalrous desertion of her in the house of a stranger would, he knew, be + terrible. He dared not face it. He dared not allow his project of flight + at dawn to be interfered with, as it certainly would be if he came across + Madame. He therefore proceeded to flee once more. Nor did he pause until + he had gained Mr. Ferdinand’s pantry, where stood the telescope. Now, in + this pantry there was a large cupboard in which were kept the very + numerous and magnificent pieces of plate, etc., possessed by Mrs. + Merillia; tall silver candelabra, standard lamps of polished bronze, + richly-chased cups, gigantic vases for containing flowers, oriental + incense holders upon stands of ebony, Spanish charcoal dishes of burnished + brass, and other treasures far too numerous to mention. This cupboard was + always carefully locked at night, but on this occasion Mr. Ferdinand, + totally disorganised by the frightful scenes which had taken place at his + dinner table during the evening, had retired to bed in a condition of + collapse, leaving it open. Malkiel the Second, feeling frantically about + in the dark, came upon the door of this cupboard, pulled it, found that it + yielded to his hand, and, hearing the rapidly approaching voices of Madame + and the Prophet, stumbled into the cupboard and sank down on a large gold + loving-cup, with one foot in a silver soup tureen, and the other in a + priceless sugar basin, just as the light of the candle borne by the + Prophet glimmered in the darkness of the adjacent corridor. + </p> + <p> + “This way, Madame,” said the Prophet. “But I really think such a + proceeding is calculated to cause a grave scandal in the square.” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel the Second drew the cupboard door to, and grasped a silver + candelabrum in each hand to sustain himself upon the rather sharp rim of + the loving-cup. + </p> + <p> + “What is the square to me or I to the square?” returned Madame with + ungrammatical majesty. “Madame Malkiel is not governed by any ordinary + laws. <i>Lexes non scripta</i> is her motto. To these alone she clings.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband clung to the candelabra and burst into a violent perspiration. + Through the keyhole of the cupboard a ray of light now shone, and he heard + the frou-frou of his partner’s skirt, the flump of the rabbit-skins as she + cast them from her ample shoulders upon the floor. The Prophet’s voice + became audible again. + </p> + <p> + “What do you wish me to do?” he said, with a sort of embittered courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “Throw open the window, place yourself before the telescope, and proceed + at once to your investigations,” replied the lady. + </p> + <p> + “I am not in a condition to investigate,” said the Prophet. “I am not + indeed. If you will only let me get you a cab, to-morrow night—” + </p> + <p> + “It is useless to talk, Mr. Vivian,” said Madame, very sharply. “The cab + has not yet been made that will convey me to the Mouse to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “But your husband—” + </p> + <p> + “My husband is a coward, unworthy of such a wife as he possesses. At the + crisis of our fortunes—What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + At this painful moment Malkiel the Second was so overcome by emotion, that + he trembled, and allowed his left foot to rattle slightly on the sugar + basin. + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” repeated Madame. + </p> + <p> + “Rats, I have no doubt,” answered the Prophet, who had heard nothing. “I + believe that the basements of these old houses are simply—well—simply + permeated with rats.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Madame blanched, but she was a woman of spirit, and moreover + she was almost intoxicated with ambition. Recognised at last as a lady of + position and importance in one of the mansions of the idiotic great, she + was more anxious than ever to remove forthwith into the central districts, + there to exercise that sway which she had so long desired. Finding that + there exists a world in which prophets—far from being considered as + dirty and deceitful persons—are worshipped and adored, entertained + with Pommery and treated almost as gods, she yearned to dwell in the midst + of it. The peaceful seclusion of the Mouse was become hateful to her. The + architects and their wives began to seem to her uplifted fancy little + better than the circle that frequented Hagglin’s Buildings, or appeared at + the paltry entertainments given by the inhabitants of Drakeman’s Villas. + She was resolved to soar, and even rats should not turn her from her + passionate purpose. Accordingly she replied,— + </p> + <p> + “Rats or no rats, I intend to see this matter out. <i>Dixisti!</i> The + night wanes. Kindly go at once to the telescope.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet obeyed, first opening the window into the area. The rain had + now cleared off, but the sky was still rather cloudy, and only a few stars + peeped here and there. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” said the Prophet, after applying his weary eye to the machine, + “really I don’t think it’s any good, there are so very—” + </p> + <p> + “Have the goodness to place the old lady in the claws of the Crab, + according to the directions of the coward who has deserted me.” + </p> + <p> + Malkiel shook with shame upon the loving-cup. + </p> + <p> + “But I really can’t find the Crab,” said the Prophet, who was so tired + that he could scarcely stand. “I can see the Great Bear.” + </p> + <p> + “That is no use. The Bear has nothing to do with the old lady. You must + find the Crab. Look again.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet did so. But his eye blinked with fatigue and the heavens swam + before it. + </p> + <p> + “There is no Crab to-night,” he said. “I assure you on my honour there is + none.” + </p> + <p> + Exactly as he finished making this statement a low whistle rang through + the silence of the night. The Prophet started, Madame jumped, and Malkiel + bounded on the loving-cup. + </p> + <p> + The whistle was repeated. + </p> + <p> + “It’s the thing!” whispered the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “What thing?” inquired Madame, who had become rather pale. + </p> + <p> + “The dark thing that told me the Crab was dressed. It has come again.” + </p> + <p> + “My word!” ejaculated Madame, looking uneasily around. “Where is it?” + </p> + <p> + Just then Malkiel the Second’s feet once more began to tremble among the + plate of Mrs. Merillia. + </p> + <p> + “You hear it!” said the Prophet, much impressed. + </p> + <p> + “Did it rattle like that the other night?” gasped Madame, seizing the + Prophet by the arm. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet told a lie with his head. + </p> + <p> + “Address it, I beg,” said Madame, in a great state of excitement. + “Meanwhile I will retire a few paces.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, she backed into the passage, bearing the candle with her for + company, and leaving the Prophet in total darkness. The low whistle + sounded again, and a husky voice said,— + </p> + <p> + “Are you there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the Prophet, summoning all his courage. “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “What ‘a’ you put out the light for?” said the voice, which seemed to come + from far away. + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t put it out,” returned the Prophet. “It’s gone away.” + </p> + <p> + At this juncture Malkiel, impelled by curiosity, ceased from trembling, + and, leaning forward upon the loving-cup, glued his ear to the key-hole of + the cupboard. + </p> + <p> + “Why was you so late to-night?” proceeded the voice. “She’s been in a rare + taking, I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Who? You know well enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean my grandmother?” + </p> + <p> + “Your grandmother!” ejaculated the voice with apparent sarcasm. “Ah! of + course, what do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I don’t know,” said the poor Prophet, whose reason was beginning + to totter upon its throne. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” proceeded the voice, “she thought you’d give it up.” + </p> + <p> + “What—my grandmother did?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, your grandmother. Get away with you! Ha! ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + And the mysterious visitant broke forth into a peal of rather mundane + laughter. After indulging in this unseemly mirth for about a minute and a + half, the personage resumed,— + </p> + <p> + “The Crab did for her.” + </p> + <p> + Upon hearing the mystic word Madame crept stealthily a pace or two nearer + to the door, while the Prophet exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “The dressed Crab?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, what do <i>you</i> think? Not a wink of sleep and thought every + minute’d be ‘er next.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “She says she’d never go near a crab again, not if it’s ever so.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure?” said the Prophet, eagerly. “You are positive she said + that?” + </p> + <p> + “I’d stake my Davy, and I wouldn’t do that on everything. There ain’t a + man living as’ll ever get her to go within fifty miles of a crab this side + of Judgment.” + </p> + <p> + At this point in the colloquy the curiosity of Madame overcame her, and + she protruded her head suddenly beyond the edge of the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Ulloh!” exclaimed the voice. “Why, what’s ‘a’ you got there?” + </p> + <p> + Madame hastily withdrew, and the voice continued,— + </p> + <p> + “Blessed if it ain’t a female!” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon!” said the Prophet, trembling with propriety. “I—I—there + is no female here!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes there is!” cried the voice, with a chuckle. “There’s a female + creeping and crawling about behind that there door.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet’s sense of chivalry was now fully aroused. + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken,” he said firmly. “There are no females creeping and—and + crawling about in this—this respectable house.” + </p> + <p> + “Respectable!” ejaculated the voice, “respectable! I say there is a + female. You’re a nice one, you are! ‘Pon my word, I’ve a good mind to run + you in for Mormonism, I have. Wherever’s she got to?” + </p> + <p> + On the last words a sudden blaze of light shot into the pantry, and at the + same moment there was the sound of wheels rapidly approaching in the + square. + </p> + <p> + “Hulloh!” said the voice, “someone a-comin’.” + </p> + <p> + The light died out as rapidly as it had flashed in, the wheels drew close + and stopped, and a bell pealed forth in the silent house. + </p> + <p> + “Merciful Heavens!” cried the Prophet, pressing his hands to his throbbing + brow. “Merciful Heavens! who can that be?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer, and the bell pealed again. + </p> + <p> + “Grannie will be disturbed!” exclaimed the Prophet, addressing himself, + passionately to the darkness. “Grannie will be killed by all this uproar.” + </p> + <p> + The bell pealed again. + </p> + <p> + “This must cease,” cried the Prophet. “This must and shall cease. I will + bring it all to an end once and for ever!” + </p> + <p> + And, with sudden desperate decision, he shut the window, burst out of the + pantry and came upon Madame, who was standing in a somewhat furtive manner + by the door that opened into the cellars of the mansion. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vivian,” she began, in a rather subdued voice, “that isn’t a comet, + that’s a copper!” + </p> + <p> + The bell rang again. + </p> + <p> + “D’you think—d’you think that can be my husband?” continued Madame, + still seeming subdued. “I should like him—Do you think it’s him?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “The bell.” + </p> + <p> + “I will very soon see,” replied the Prophet, in a most determined manner. + </p> + <p> + “But Mr. Viv—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t hold me, if you please. Kindly let me pass!” + </p> + <p> + And, breaking from the lady’s anxious grasp, the Prophet rushed into the + hall just as Gustavus appeared, descending the front stairs from the + landing before Mrs. Merillia’s door, where he had been in close conference + with Mrs. Fancy. + </p> + <p> + “Stand back, Gustavus,” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Stand back!” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir, there is someone—” + </p> + <p> + “I know there is. I am about to answer the door myself.” + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir, Mrs. Merillia is greatly alarmed by the constant + ringing, and Mrs. Fancy thinks—” + </p> + <p> + “Gustavus,” said the Prophet in an awful voice, “you may retire, but first + let me tell you one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” said the footman, beginning to tremble. + </p> + <p> + “The circumstances that have rendered a hitherto peaceful household more + disordered than an abode of madmen are about to be brought to an end for + ever. 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.” + </p> + <p> + And, with this terrible statement, the Prophet advanced with a sort of + appalling deliberation and threw the front door wide open. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you’d be here, Mr. Vivian,” began Lady Enid in a bright manner. + </p> + <p> + “I am here,” said the Prophet, speaking in a voice that might well have + issued from a statue. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” roared Sir Tiglath. “Where is he? Oh-h-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Tiglath means Malkiel,” explained Lady Enid. “He is most anxious to + meet him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” said the Prophet, still in the same inhuman voice. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I don’t know,” answered the Prophet, with stony indifference. + “Good-night to you!” + </p> + <p> + “But we want to come in,” cried Lady Enid. + </p> + <p> + “Young man,” roared Sir Tiglath, “the old astronomer will not leave this + house till he has searched it from attic to cellar.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” replied the Prophet, “but I cannot permit my grandmother’s + servants or wine to be disturbed at such an hour. If you wish to murder + Malkiel the Second, I shall not prevent you, but he is not here.” + </p> + <p> + “Then where is he?” cried Lady Enid. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. And now—” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet stepped back into the hall, and was about to close the door + unceremoniously—having, as he intended, ceased to be a gentleman—when + Lady Enid caught sight of the round and fixed eyes of Gustavus glaring out + into the night from behind his master. The appalling feminine instinct, + which makes woman the mistress of creation, suddenly woke within her, and + she cried out in a piercing voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Malkiel’s in the house, and Gustavus knows it!” + </p> + <p> + She spoke these words with such conviction that the Prophet spun round, + top-wise, and stared at the unfortunate flunkey, who instantly fell upon + his knee-breeches and stammered out,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, forgive me! It’s Dr. Carter done it, sir, it is indeed. It’s Dr. + Carter done it!” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Carter!” ejaculated the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “The library, sir. He offered me the library eight times over, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Who offered you the library?” + </p> + <p> + “The gent, sir, in Mr. Ferdinand’s trouserings, what was at dinner, sir. + He only wanted to change ‘em, sir, and he says to me, he says, ‘Let me,’ + he says, ‘but remove these trouserings,’ he says, ‘before I make off to + Java,’ he says—” + </p> + <p> + “To where?” roared Sir Tiglath. + </p> + <p> + “To Java, sir, where the jelly and the sparrows is manufactured, sir, that + is born, sir. ‘And,’ he says, ‘here is a hundred pounds,’ he says.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he is in the house?” said the Prophet, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, he was, sir. And, as I ain’t seen him go, sir, I expect as + he’s somewhere about changing of ‘em, sir. Oh, sir, if you’ll only look it + over sir, It’s all the thirst, sir, it’s all the thirst—” + </p> + <p> + “What? You have been drinking?” cried the Prophet, in an outraged manner. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, the thirst for knowledge, sir, as has brought me to this. Oh, + sir, if only you’ll—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said the Prophet fiercely. “Sir Tiglath,” he added, turning + towards the puffing astronomer, “you can enter. My grandmother must have + been right.” + </p> + <p> + “Your grandmother?” said Lady Enid, with eager inquisitiveness. + </p> + <p> + “She informed me that the ruffian was in the house and had attempted to + make away with her—” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! this is most interesting!” interposed Lady Enid. + </p> + <p> + “But I supposed she had had the nightmare. It seems that I was wrong. If + you will step in, you can search the house at once. And if you discover + this nameless creature changing his—that is Mr. Ferdinand’s + trouserings—trousers, that is,—in any part of the building, as + far as I am concerned you can murder him forthwith.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet spoke quite calmly, in a soft and level voice. Yet there was + something so frightful in his tone and manner that even Sir Tiglath seemed + slightly awe-stricken. At any rate, he accepted the Prophet’s invitation + in silence, and stepped almost furtively into the hall, on whose floor + Gustavus was still posed in the conventional attitude of the Christian + martyr. Lady Enid eagerly followed, and the Prophet was just about to + close the door, when a dark, hovering figure that was pausing at a short + distance off upon the pavement attracted his attention. He stopped short, + and, perceiving that it was a policeman, beckoned to it. The figure + approached. + </p> + <p> + “What’s up now?” it said familiarly, emphasising the question with a sharp + contraction of the left eyelid. “You’re having a nice game to-night, and + no mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “Game!” replied the Prophet, sternly. “This is no game. Stand there, by + the area gate, and if anyone should run out, knock him down with your + truncheon. Do you hear me?” + </p> + <p> + With these impressive words he entered the house and shut the door, + leaving the policeman to whistle inquiringly to the stars that were + watching over this house, once peaceful, but now the abode of violence and + tragedy. + </p> + <p> + In the hall he found Gustavus still on his knees between Lady Enid and Sir + Tiglath. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Enid,” he said, even in this hour mindful of the proprieties, “you + have heard what this villain is doing here, and must be sensible that you + can take no part in this search.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I particularly want—” began Lady Enid, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” said the Prophet, with more firmness than Napoleon ever + showed to his marshals. “You must retire. Please come this way. Mrs. Fancy + will look after you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but really, Mr. Vivian, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Kindly follow me.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid hesitated for a moment, but the Prophet’s manner was too much + for her, and when he stepped, like a clockwork automaton with a steel + interior, towards the staircase, she crept mildly in his wake. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t I really—?” she whispered in his ear. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. If you were a married woman, possibly—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but I am engaged,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “Engaged!” he said. “To whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Tiglath.” + </p> + <p> + “Engaged to Sir Tiglath!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He proposed to me to-night at Zoological House.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + She might well have resented the question, but perhaps she divined the + distraught and almost maniacal condition of mind that the Prophet masked + beneath his impassive demeanour. At any rate she answered frankly,— + </p> + <p> + “Because he didn’t find out I’m Miss Minerva, and in the midst of Mrs. + Bridgeman’s silly world I stood right out as the only sensible creature + living. Isn’t it fun?” + </p> + <p> + “Fun!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I always meant him to propose to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I always thought it would be supremely idiotic of me to accept + him.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet felt that if he listened to another remark of such a nature + his brain would snap and he would instantly be taken with a tearing fit of + hysterics. He therefore turned round and slowly ascended to the first + floor. + </p> + <p> + “Kindly step into the drawing-room,” he said, having first, by a rapid + glance, assured himself that Malkiel was not changing Mr. Ferdinand’s + trousers there. “I will send Mrs. Fancy to chaperon you.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Enid stepped in obediently, and the Prophet, who could distinctly + hear Mrs. Fancy sobbing on the landing above, proceeded thither, took her + hand and guided her down to the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my poor, poor missis!” gulped the devoted creature. “Oh, my—” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” rejoined the Prophet, with passionless equanimity. “Please go + in there and remain to guard this young lady.” + </p> + <p> + He assisted Mrs. Fancy to fall in a heap upon the nearest sociable, and + then, still moving with a species of frozen deliberation, betook himself + once more to the hall. The astronomer and Gustavus were standing there in + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Tiglath,” said the Prophet, in a very formal manner, “you can now + begin to search for this ruffian.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath cleared his throat, and continued to stand still. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will find him,” continued the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath cleared his throat again and added,— + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Because I think it quite time that he was murdered,” answered the + Prophet, unemotionally. “Well! why don’t you search?” + </p> + <p> + The astronomer, whose face began to look less red than usual, rolled his + glassy eyes round upon the shadowy hall, the dim staircase and the + gloomy-looking closed doors that confronted them. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the old astronomer to search?” he asked, in a low voice. + “Oh-h-h-h!” + </p> + <p> + The final exclamation sounded remarkably tremulous. + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere—except in my grandmother’s bedroom. That of course is + sacred. Well, why don’t you begin?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Tiglath eyed the Prophet furtively. + </p> + <p> + “I’m—I’m going to,” he murmured hoarsely. “The old astronomer does + not know the meaning of the word—fear.” + </p> + <p> + Exactly as he uttered these inspiring words the hall clock growled, like a + very large dog, and struck two. Sir Tiglath started and caught hold of + Gustavus, who started in his turn and shrank away. The Prophet alone stood + up to the clock, which finished its remark with a click, and resumed its + habitual occupation of ticking. + </p> + <p> + “Pray begin, Sir Tiglath,” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “The old astronomer—must have a—a—a—candle.” + </p> + <p> + “Here is one,” said the Prophet, handing the desired article. + </p> + <p> + “A lighted candle.” + </p> + <p> + “Why lighted? Oh, so that you can see to murder him! Gustavus, light the + candle.” + </p> + <p> + Gustavus, who was trembling a good deal more than an autumn leaf, complied + after about fifteen unavailing attempts. + </p> + <p> + “There, Sir Tiglath,” said the Prophet. “Now you can begin.” And he seated + himself upon a settee, leaned back and crossed his legs. + </p> + <p> + “You will not accompany the old astronomer? Oh-h-h” + </p> + <p> + “No. I will rest here. When you have found the ruffian and murdered him, I + shall be glad to hear your news.” + </p> + <p> + And, so saying, the Prophet settled himself comfortably with a cushion + behind his back, and calmly closed his eyes. The candlestick clattered in + Sir Tiglath’s gouty hand. The Prophet heard it, heard heavy feet shuffling + very slowly and cautiously over the floor of the hall, finally heard the + door leading to the servants’ quarters swing on its hinges. Still he did + not open his eyes. He felt that if he were to do so just then he would + probably begin to shriek, rave, foam at the mouth, and in all known ways + comport himself as do the inhabitants of Bedlam. A delicate silence fell + in the hall. How long it lasted the Prophet never knew. It might have been + five minutes or five years as far as he was concerned. It was broken at + length by the following symphony of sounds—an elderly man’s voice + roaring, a woman’s voice uttering a considerable number of very powerful + screams on a rather low but still resounding note, a loud thump, a crash + of glass, a prodigious clattering, as of utensils made in some noisy + material falling from a height and rolling vigorously in innumerable + directions, two or three bangs of doors, and the peculiar patter of rather + large and flat feet, unaccustomed to any rapid exercise, moving over + boards, oilcloth and carpet. 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. + </p> + <p> + “Gustavus!” said the Prophet, glancing round. + </p> + <p> + He perceived the footman lying in a dead faint near the umbrella stand. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he said, speaking to himself aloud. “Oh! Then I must go myself.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said the Prophet, calmly. “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I knocked him down as he was making a bolt,” said the policeman. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet found himself wondering why so industrious and even useful an + occupation should be interfered with in such a manner. However, he only + replied,— + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said the policeman, stepping into the hall and laying the astronomer + out across a chair, “what’s up?” + </p> + <p> + “They are both up,” answered the Prophet, pointing with a lethargic finger + towards the staircase, from which, at this moment, arose a perfect hubbub + of voices. + </p> + <p> + “Come on!” cried the policeman. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Why! you’re a nice un, you are! Why! And nab ‘em, of course!” + </p> + <p> + “You think it would be wise to—what was the word—nab them?” + inquired the Prophet. “You really think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what am I here for then?” said the policeman, with angry irony. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you prefer,” rejoined the Prophet, civilly. “Nab them by all + means. I shall not prevent you.” + </p> + <p> + The policeman, who was an active and industrious fellow deserving of + praise, waited for no further permission, but immediately darted up the + stairs, and in less than a minute returned with Mrs. Merillia—attired + in a black silk gown, a bonnet, and an Indian shawl presented to her on + her marriage by a very great personage—in close custody. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s one of ‘em!” he shouted. “Here, you lay hold of her while I fetch + the rest!” + </p> + <p> + And with these words he thrust the Prophet’s grandmother into one of his + hands, the broken truncheon into the other, and turning smartly round, + again bounded up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + In a famous poem of the late Lord Tennyson there is related a dramatic + incident of a lady whose disinclination to cry, when such emotion would + have been only natural, was overcome by the presentation to her of her + child. A somewhat similar effect was produced upon our Prophet by the + constable’s presentation to him of his honoured grandmother. The sight of + her reverent head, surmounted by the bonnet which she had assumed in + readiness to flee from the house which she could no longer regard as a + home—the touch of her delicate hand—the flutter of her so + hallowed Indian shawl—these things broke down the strange calm of + her devoted grandson. Like summer tempest came his emotion, and, when the + policeman presently returned with Malkiel the Second and Madame nabbed by + his right and left hands, and followed by Lady Enid and the weeping Mrs. + Fancy, he was confronted by a most pathetic tableau. The Prophet and Mrs. + Merillia were weeping in each other’s arm’s while Sir Tiglath and Gustavus—just + returned to consciousness—were engaged in examining the proceeding + with puppy dog’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + Over the explanations that ensued a veil may be partially drawn. One + lifted corner, however, allows us to note that Sir Tiglath Butt, having + come upon Madame hidden behind a bin of old port in the Prophet’s cellar, + had been seized by a desire not to alarm a lady so profound that it + prompted him to hurry to the butler’s pantry, and to seek concealment in + the very cupboard which already contained Malkiel the Second. On + perceiving that gentleman perched upon the loving-cup, and protected by + candlesticks, sugar basins, teapots and other weapons, the astronomer’s + anxiety to become a murderer apparently forsook him. At any rate, he + passed through the plate-glass of the window rather hastily into the area, + where, as we know, he received the solicitous attentions of the policeman + who had served as an intermediary between the Lord Chancellor’s second + cook—whose supper of dressed crab had caused so much confusion—and + the supposed Mr. Ferdinand. Malkiel the Second, finding himself + discovered, took to the open just as Madame fled forth from the cellar, to + be overtaken by the very natural misconception that she was about to + become the victim of a husband whose jealousy had at length caused him to + assume his <i>toga virilibus</i>. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was Sir Tiglath’s throwing off of the said garment which caused + Lady Enid to throw him over. At any rate, she eventually married Mr. + Robert Green and made him a very sensible wife. + </p> + <p> + The Malkiels returned to the Mouse, where they still live, and still carry + on a certain amount of intercourse with architects and their wives. From + time to time, however, they attend the receptions at Zoological House, and + a rumour recently ran through the circles of the silly to the effect that + they had been looking at a house not far from the Earls Court Station, + with a view—it is surmised—of removing to more central + districts. + </p> + <p> + They are no longer on terms with the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + He has retired from business and put down his telescope once and for all, + recognising that prophecy is a dangerous employment, and one likely to + bring about the very evils it foreshadows. Calmly he dwells with his + beloved grandmother in the Berkeley Square, which has received them once + more into its former favour. Sometimes, at night, when the sky is clear, + and the bright stars, the guardian stars, keep watch over his aristocratic + neighbourhood, he draws aside the curtain from the drawing-room window and + glances forth at Mercury and Uranus, Jupiter, Saturn and Venus. And when + his eyes meet their twinkling eyes, he exchanges with them—not a + question and answer, not a demand for unholy information and a reluctant + reply, but a serene, gentlemanly and perfectly decorous good-night. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Prophet of Berkeley Square, by Robert Hichens + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PROPHET OF BERKELEY SQUARE *** + +***** This file should be named 2463-h.htm or 2463-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/2463/ + +Produced by Dagny; Emma Dudding; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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