"No. I might have been anybody, any ordinary person living in Grosvenor Place, or, like yourself, in the Berkeley Square. And so it ever is. Other prophets there are--possibly men of a certain ability even in that direction--but there is only one Malkiel, only one who attends strictly to business, who draws a good income from the stars, sir, and satisfies the public month in, month out, without making a fuss about it. Wait a few years, sir, only wait!"
"Wait till the children are grown up. Wait till Capricornus has got his Latin by heart and gone to Oxford. Then, and only then, you will know whether Malkiel the Second is the exception to the rule of prophets. Yes, and Madame shall know it, too. She trusted me, sir, as only a woman can. She knew I was a prophet and had a prophet for a father before me. And yet she trusted me. It was a daring thing to do. Many would call it foolhardy. Wouldn't they, sir?"
The dogskin glove was raised. The Prophet hastened to reply,--
"But she was not afraid, and she shall have her reward. Corona shall never set foot in Drakeman's Villas, nor breathe the air of Hagglin's. I must have a glass of water, I must, sir, indeed."
He gasped heavily and was about to rise, when the Prophet said:
"I should be delighted," Malkiel answered. "Delighted, I'm sure, but I doubt whether Jellybrand's--"
"Could not Frederick Smith go out and fetch us a--a pint bottle of champagne?" said the Prophet, playing a desperate card in the prophetic game.
An expression almost of joviality overspread the tragic farce of Malkiel's appearance.
"We'll see," he answered, opening the deal door. "Frederick Smith!"
"Here, Mr. Sagittarius," cried the soprano voice of the young librarian.
"Can you leave the library for a moment, Frederick Smith?"
The Prophet held up a sovereign over Malkiel the Second's narrow shoulder.
"Ah! Where is the nearest champagne, Frederick Smith?"
"I daresay I could get a dozen at Gillow's next the rabbit shop," replied the young librarian, thoughtfully.
The Prophet shuddered to the depths of his being, but he was now embarked upon his enterprise and must crowd all sail.
"Go to Gillow's," he exclaimed, with an assumption of feverish geniality, "and bring back a couple of rabbits--I mean bottles. They must be dry. You understand?"