The Prophet of Berkeley Square Part 40

"Telegrams, sir. The boys must have thrown 'em down without knocking."

"Very probably," replied the Prophet. "Their comrade was right. They did not wish to be strangled."

"No, sir. And I have placed them in a basket on the breakfast table, sir, while awaiting your orders."

"Quite right, Mr. Ferdinand. By the way, here is the bradawl. Leave it out again to-night in case I have need of it."

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.

While the Prophet was simultaneously finis.h.i.+ng 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.

"If you please, sir," he said, in an up-and-down voice, "if you please there are two--two--two--"

"Two what? Be more explicit, Mr. Ferdinand."

"Two--well, sir, kids at the door waiting for you to see them, sir."

"Two kids! What--from the goat show that's going on at the Westminster Aquarium!" cried the Prophet in great surprise.

"Maybe, sir. I can't say, indeed, sir. Am I to show them in, sir?"

"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."

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.

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,--

"Well, my little ones, what can I do for you?"

"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?"

"If you please, Mr. Vivian," added the little girl. "Si sit prudentium."

"Dentia, Corona," corrected the little boy.

The Prophet turned white to the very lips.

"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."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm not to be disturbed. This way, my little ones."

"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.

"Well, I'm--" said Mr. Ferdinand. "Kids in the library! I am--Gustavus!"

He rushed frenetically towards the servants' hall to confer upon the situation with his intellectual subordinate.

Meanwhile the Prophet was closeted with the two kids.

"Pray sit down," he said, very nervously, and smiling forcibly. "Pray sit down, my dears."

The kids obeyed with aplomb, keeping their large and strained eyes fixed upon the Prophet.

"Is it Coronus and Capricorna?" continued the Prophet, with an effort after blithe familiarity. "Is it?"

"No," piped the little boy. "It isn't Coronus and Capricorna."

A marvellous sensation of relief invaded the Prophet.

"Thank Heaven!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed in a sigh. "I thought it must be."

"It's Corona and Capricornus," continued the little boy. "And we've brought you a letter from pater familias."

"And mater familiaris," added the little girl.

"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?"

So saying, he handed the missive to the Prophet, who took it anxiously.

"Would you like some cake, my lit--I mean, my dears, while I read this?"

"No, thank you. Cake is bad for us in the morning," replied the little boy. "You shouldn't eat it so early."

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:--

"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.

"JUPITER SAGITTARIUS.

"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. _Ab origino_.

"MADAME SAGITTARIUS."

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.

He laid the letter down and got up, fixing his eyes upon the kids, who sat solemnly awaiting his further procedure.

"You--I suppose you know, my little ones, what this--what you have to do?" he said.

"Not so little, if you please, Mr. Vivian," returned the boy. "Yes, we've got to take you with us to see pater familias."