And I have placed them in a basket on the breakfast table,
sir, while awaiting your orders."
"Quite right, Mr. Ferdinand. By the way, here is the bradawl. Leave it
out again to-night in case I have need of it."
So saying, the Prophet handed the bradawl, which he had craftily
conveyed from the pantry on the previous night, to the astonished butler
and walked swiftly into the breakfast-room. The basket of telegrams was
set outside beside a fried sole and the "equipage" which Madame had so
much admired, and, while he sipped his tea, the Prophet opened the wires
one by one. They were fraught with terror and dismay. Evidently his
mysterious warning had thrown the worthies who dwelt beside the Mouse
into a condition of the very gravest amazement and alarm, and they had,
despite the Prophet's final injunction, spent the remaining telegraphic
hours of the day in despatching wires of frantic inquiry to the square.
Madame, in particular, was evidently much upset, and expressed her angry
agitation in a dead language that seemed positively to live again in
fear and novelty of grammatical construction. Sir Tiglath had been
a brilliant card to play in the prophetic game, although he had not
achieved the Prophet's purpose of stopping the telegraphic flood.
Pages:
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222