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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"The Prophet of Berkeley Square"

"
"What--and not pledged it to the relative?"
"Well, no."
"Then he ought to stick to the promise he'd pledged his honour over, of
course. Nice for the relative! The man's a damned fool, Hen. Do have a
drink, old chap."
Thus did Mr. Robert Green drive the Prophet to take the first decisive
step that was to lead to so many complications,--the step towards Mr.
Ferdinand's pantry.
At precisely a quarter to eleven p.m. the Prophet stood upon his
doorstep and, very gently indeed, inserted his latchkey into the door.
A shaded lamp was burning in the deserted hall, where profound silence
reigned. Clear was the night and starry. As the Prophet turned to close
the door he perceived the busy crab, and the thought of his beloved
grandmother, sinking now to rest on the second floor all unconscious of
the propinquity of the scorpion, the contiguity of the serpent, filled
his expressive eyes with tears. He shut the door, stood in the hall and
listened. He heard a chair crack, the ticking of a clock. There was no
other sound, and he felt certain that Mr. Ferdinand and Gustavus had
heeded his anxious medical directions and gone entirely to bed betimes,
leaving the butler's pantry free for the nocturnal operations of the
victim of Madame.


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