"It is my duty," continued Malkiel, in a louder voice, "my sacred duty to Madame--to say nothing of Corona and Capricornus--to probe you to the core"--here the Prophet could not resist a startled movement of protest--"and to search you to the quick.""Oh, really!" cried the Prophet.
"This duty I shall carry out unflinchingly," pursued Malkiel, "at whatever cost to myself.This will not be our last interview.Do not think it.""I assure you," inserted the Prophet, endeavouring vainly to seem at ease, "I do not wish to think it.""It matters little whether you wish to do so or not," continued Malkiel, with an increasingly Juggernaut air."The son of Malkiel the First is not a man to be trifled with or dodged.Moreover, much more than the future of myself and family depends upon what you really are.
From this day forth you will be bound up with the /Almanac/.""Merciful Heavens!" ejaculated the Prophet, unable, intrepid as he was, to avoid recoiling when he found himself thus suddenly confronted with the fate of an appendix.
"For why should it ever cease?" proceeded Malkiel, with growing passion."Why--if a prophet can live, as you declare, freely and openly in the Berkeley Square? If this is so, why should I not remove, along with Madame and family, from the borders of the Mouse and reside henceforth in a central situation such as I should wish to reside in?
Why should not Capricornus eventually succeed me in the /Almanac/ as Isucceeded Malkiel the First? Already the boy shows the leanings of a prophet.Hitherto Madame and I have endeavoured to stifle them, to turn them in an architectural direction.You understand?""I am trying to," stammered the Prophet.
"Hitherto we have corrected the boy's table manners when they have become too like those of the average prophet--as they often have--for hitherto we have had reason to believe that all prophets--with the exception of myself--were dirty, deceitful and essentially suburban persons.But if you are a prophet we have been deceived.Trust me, sir, I shall find speedy means to pierce you to the very marrow."The Prophet began mechanically to feel for his hat.
"Are you desirous of anything, sir?" said Malkiel, sharply.
"No," said the Prophet, wondering whether the moment had arrived to throw off all further pretence of bravery and to shout boldly for the assistance of the young librarian.
"Then why are you feeling about, sir? Why are you feeling about?""Was I?" faltered the Prophet.
"You are looking for another glass of wine, perhaps?""No, indeed," said the Prophet, desperately."For anything but that."But Malkiel, moved by some abruptly formed resolution, called suddenly in a powerful voice,--"Frederick Smith!"
"Here, Mr.Sagittarius!" cried the young librarian, appearing with suspicious celerity upon the parlour threshold.
"Draw the cork of the second bottle, Frederick Smith," said Malkiel, impressively."This gentleman is about to take the pledge"--on hearing this ironic paradox the Prophet stood up, very much in the attitude formerly assumed by Malkiel when about to dodge in the library--"that Ishall put to him," concluded Malkiel, also standing up, and assuming the library posture of the Prophet.
Indeed the situation of the library seemed about to be accurately reversed in the parlour of Jellybrand's.
The young librarian assisted the cork to emerge phlegmatically from the neck of the second bottle of champagne, mechanically smacking his lips the while.
"Now pour, and leave us, Frederick Smith."The young librarian helped the fatigued-looking wine into the two glasses, where it lay as if thoroughly exhausted by the effort of getting there, and then languidly left the parlour, turning his bulging head over his shoulder to indulge in a pathetic /oeillade/ ere he vanished.
The Prophet watched him go.
"Close the door, Frederick Smith," cried Malkiel, in a meaning manner.
The Prophet blushed a guilty red, and the young librarian obeyed with a bang.
"And now, sir, I must request you to take a solemn pledge in this vintage," said Malkiel, placing one of the tumblers in the Prophet's trembling hand.
"Really," said the Prophet, "I am not at all thirsty.""Why should you be, sir? What has that got to do with it?" retorted Malkiel."Lift your glass, sir."The Prophet obeyed.
"And now take this pledge--that, till the last day--""What day?"
"The last day, sir, you will reveal to no living person that there is such an individual as Malkiel, that you have ever met him, who he is, or who Madame and family are, unless I give the word.You have surprised my secret.You have forced yourself upon me.You owe me this.
Drink!"
Mechanically the Prophet drank.
"Swear!"
Mechanically--indeed almost like a British working man--the Prophet swore.
Malkiel drained his tumbler, and drew on the dogskin glove which, in the agitation of a previous moment, he had thrown aside.
"I have your card, sir, here is mine.I shall now take the train to the River Mouse, on whose banks I shall confer at once with Madame.Till Ihave done this I cannot tell you what form the tests I shall have to apply to you will take.When I have done it you will hear from me.Your servant, sir."He bowed majestically, and was turning towards the door when it was hastily opened and a lady appeared frantically in the aperture.
