The Prophet of Berkeley Square Part 68

"But your husband--"

"My husband is a coward, unworthy of such a wife as he possesses. At the crisis of our fortunes--What's that?"

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.

"What was it?" repeated Madame.

"Rats, I have no doubt," answered the Prophet, who had heard nothing. "I believe that the bas.e.m.e.nts of these old houses are simply--well--simply permeated with rats."

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 G.o.ds, 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 pa.s.sionate purpose. Accordingly she replied,--

"Rats or no rats, I intend to see this matter out. _Dixisti!_ The night wanes. Kindly go at once to the telescope."

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.

"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--"

"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."

Malkiel shook with shame upon the loving-cup.

"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."

"That is no use. The Bear has nothing to do with the old lady. You must find the Crab. Look again."

The Prophet did so. But his eye blinked with fatigue and the heavens swam before it.

"There is no Crab to-night," he said. "I a.s.sure you on my honour there is none."

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.

The whistle was repeated.

"It's the thing!" whispered the Prophet.

"What thing?" inquired Madame, who had become rather pale.

"The dark thing that told me the Crab was dressed. It has come again."

"My word!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Madame, looking uneasily around. "Where is it?"

Just then Malkiel the Second's feet once more began to tremble among the plate of Mrs. Merillia.

"You hear it!" said the Prophet, much impressed.

"Did it rattle like that the other night?" gasped Madame, seizing the Prophet by the arm.

The Prophet told a lie with his head.

"Address it, I beg," said Madame, in a great state of excitement.

"Meanwhile I will retire a few paces."

So saying, she backed into the pa.s.sage, bearing the candle with her for company, and leaving the Prophet in total darkness. The low whistle sounded again, and a husky voice said,--

"Are you there?"

"Yes," replied the Prophet, summoning all his courage. "I am."

"What 'a' you put out the light for?" said the voice, which seemed to come from far away.

"I haven't put it out," returned the Prophet. "It's gone away."

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.

"Why was you so late to-night?" proceeded the voice. "She's been in a rare taking, I can tell you."

"Who?"

"Who? You know well enough."

"Do you mean my grandmother?"

"Your grandmother!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the voice with apparent sarcasm. "Ah! of course, what do you think?"

"I'm sure I don't know," said the poor Prophet, whose reason was beginning to totter upon its throne.

"Well," proceeded the voice, "she thought you'd give it up."

"What--my grandmother did?"

"Ah, your grandmother. Get away with you! Ha! ha! ha!"

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,--

"The Crab did for her."

Upon hearing the mystic word Madame crept stealthily a pace or two nearer to the door, while the Prophet exclaimed,--

"The dressed Crab?"

"Ah, what do _you_ think? Not a wink of sleep and thought every minute'd be 'er next."

"Good Heavens!"

"She says she'd never go near a crab again, not if it's ever so."

"You are sure?" said the Prophet, eagerly. "You are positive she said that?"

"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."