The Prophet of Berkeley Square | Page 9

you prophesied?"
She glanced from her grandson to the telescope that pointed toward the
stars and back again.
"I am, indeed, sincerely grieved," the Prophet answered with genuine
emotion.

"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."
"I hope not, grannie," said the Prophet. But he looked meditative.
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,--
"Hennessey, you see where this prophetic business is leadin' you. It has
made you charmed at my accident. Yes, it has."
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.
"No, no," he cried quickly. "That's impossible. It can't be." But the
statements sounded like perturbed questions.
"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?"
"Mercury and Uranus, Jupiter, Saturn and Venus," said the Prophet
with almost terrible gravity.
"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!"
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.

"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."
"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."
"Mr. Malkiel! Who is he? Do we know him?"
"No. But we know his marvellous /Almanac/."
"The /Almanac/ person! Why, Malkiel is surely a myth, Hennessey, a
number of people, a company, a syndicate, or something of that kind."
"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."
"Rather an odd man then! Is he in the Red Book?"
"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."
"Indeed. Where is it?"
"Jellybrand's Library, Eleven Hundred Z, Shaftesbury Avenue. I sent a
boy messenger there to-day."
"Did you receive a reply?"
"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?"
"Twisted, but prophetic. I foretell that my ankle will be swelled beyond
recognition to-morrow. Help me to bed, Hennessey."
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.
"You must ring the bell, Hennessey," she said. "Mr. Ferdinand and
Gustavus must carry me to bed in the chair."
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.
As Mr. Ferdinand and Gustavus descended to the basement after the
completion of their unusual task, the latter said solemnly,--
"However should master have come to know as the missis wouldn't be