The Prophet of Berkeley Square Part 48

"Where?"

"At Jellybrand's. She goes there to fetch letters on the same day as I do."

Madame's very intellectual brow was over-clouded with storm. She turned upon the Prophet.

"And what of this person, Mr. Vivian?" she cried. "What of her and this oath?"

The Prophet, who was secretly very delighted with the diversion he had so cleverly created, hastened to reply,--

"I have promised most solemnly to meet her to-night at a house in the Zoological Gardens!"

"A house in the Zoological Gardens!"

"I mean at the Zoological House, the residence of Mrs. Vane Bridgeman, who is--"

But, at this point in his explanation, the Prophet was interrupted by both his hearers.

"The Jellybrand one!" cried Mr. Sagittarius.

"The prophets' patron!" vociferated Madame.

CHAPTER XVI

THE PROPHET RETURNS FROM THE MOUSE WITH TWO OLD AND VALUED FRIENDS

At these exclamations the Prophet started in some surprise.

"You know this lady?" he asked.

"By repute, sir," replied Mr. Sagittarius.

"Who does not?" cried Madame. "She built the 'Prophets' Rest' at Birchington."

"And the Mediums' Almshouses at Sunnington."

"And the 'Palmists' Retreat' at Millaby Bay."

"And the--"

"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."

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.

"I might accompany you to Mrs. Bridgeman's, sir," he said to the Prophet. "Might I not, Sophronia?"

"Oh, but--" began the Prophet, very hastily.

"The lady has frequently pressed me to accept of her hospitality."

"Indeed!"

"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.'"

"But do the postal authorities--"

"Not upon the envelope, sir, not upon the envelope."

"I see."

"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."

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.

"Miss Minerva is to be present at this reception, I believe," she said sharply.

"Yes, she is," answered the Prophet, illumined by a ray of hope.

"Jupiter," said Madame, "I will accompany you and Mr. Vivian to the Zoological Gardens to-night. It is my sacred duty."

The Prophet groaned.

"But, my darling--"

"The reception over, I will a.s.sist you and Mr. Vivian at the telescope in the Berkeley Square. In your presence I can do so without departing from my principles, _salvo pudoribus_. 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 a.s.sume an appropriate _neglige_ 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 wors.h.i.+p 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 _alibi_. 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."

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 a.s.sume the appropriate _neglige_. 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.

"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--"

"The butler's pantry, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Sagittarius. "Explain yourself, I beg."

"The telescope is there, and--"

"I have pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.s the night, even when accompanied by my husband.

But my conscience--_mens conscium recto_--guides me and I will not resist it. I will a.s.sume my _neglige_ and bonnet and will be with you in a moment."

So saying she majestically quitted the apartment.

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.

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 n.o.ble 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!