"Berkeley Square," he said. "_The_ Berkeley Square?"
"Exactly, the Berkeley Square," said the Prophet, modestly.
"Not the one at Brixton Rise behind the Kimmins's mews?" said Malkiel
the Second, suspiciously.
"Certainly not. The one near Grosvenor Square."
"That's better," said Malkiel, upon whom the Prophet's address had
evidently made a good impression. "Kimmins's is no class at all. Had you
come from there, I--but what may you want with me?"
The Prophet glanced significantly at the young librarian, who was
leaning upon the counter in a tense, keyhole position, with his private
ear turned somewhat ostentatiously towards the two speakers.
"I can tell you in an inner room," he murmured, in his most ingratiating
manner.
"You're certain it's not Berkeley Square behind Kimmins's?" said
Malkiel, with a last flicker of suspicion.
"Quite certain--quite."
"Frederick Smith," said Malkiel the Second, "since Jellybrand's
has betrayed me Jellybrand's must abide the consequences. Show this
gentleman and me to the parlour."
"Right, Mr. Sagittarius," replied the young librarian whose memory had
again become excellent. "But Miss Minerva is coming at three-thirty.
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