The Prophet of Berkeley Square Part 39

"Warm water, with a slice of toast in it. But he was only what they call a suburban bishop, Mr. Ferdinand."

"Ah! a nip is hardly on all fours with a bradawl, Gustavus."

"P'r'aps not, Mr. Ferdinand, but it's the nearest ever I got to it."

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.

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.

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 s.h.i.+ning mysteries, her distant reticences and revelations, calmed the turmoil within him. He looked upon the area railings and upon the sky, and smiled.

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 inst.i.tuted 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 _Butler's Gazette_, 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, a.s.suming 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.

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,--

"At it again, are you?"

"Yes," whispered the Prophet, also huskily, for the night air was cold.

"But how should you know?"

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 bas.e.m.e.nt.

"How should I know!" rejoined the blot with obvious, though very hoa.r.s.e, irony. "Whatever d'you take me for?"

The Prophet began to wonder, but before he had gone on wondering for more than about half a minute, the blot continued,--

"She's gone to bed."

"I know she has," said the Prophet, presuming that the blot, which seemed instinct with all knowledge, was referring to his grandmother.

"But she knows you're at it again," continued the blot.

The Prophet started violently and leaned upon the window-sill.

"No! How can that be?" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"Ho! Them girls knows everything, especially the old uns," said the blot, with an audible chuckle.

"Good gracious!" gasped the Prophet, overwhelmed at this mysterious visitant's familiar description of his revered grandmother.

"Have you seen her to-night?" inquired the blot, controlling its merriment.

"Yes," said the Prophet. "With the Crab."

"What!" cried the blot, in obvious astonishment. "Them instruments must be wonderful sight-carriers."

"They are," exclaimed the Prophet, with almost mystic enthusiasm.

"Wonderful. I have seen her with the Crab distinctly."

"Ah! well, I told her she ought to keep away from it," continued the blot.

"Did you?" said the Prophet, with increasing surprise. "But how could she?"

"Ah! that's just it! She couldn't."

"No, of course not."

"She was drawn right to it."

"She was. It wasn't her fault. It was the Crab's."

"A pity it was dressed."

"What?"

"I say it's a pity 'twas dressed."

"What was dressed?"

"What! why, the Crab!"

"The Crab--dressed!"

"Ay. They're a deal safer not dressed."

"Are they?"

"She knows it too."

"Does she?"

"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."

"I won't," said the Prophet, feeling completely dazed.

"Well, go'-night. I'm off round the square."

"Good-night," said the Prophet.

Suddenly a blinding flash of light dazzled his eyes. He covered them with his hands. When he could see again the blot was gone.

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.

When he came down in the morning pale, dishevelled, but informed by a curious dignity, he was met at once by Mr. Ferdinand.

"I have cleared the area, sir," said the functionary.

"The area, Mr. Ferdinand. What of?"