The Prophet of Berkeley Square

by Robert Hichens

“Now, sir,” he said.

“I assure you,” said the Prophet, “on my honour that all I have said is strictly true.”

“And took place in the Berkeley Square?”

“And took place in the Berkeley Square.”

Malkiel nodded morosely.

“It may have been chance,” he said. “A weather forecast and an honoured grandmother may have been mere luck. Still it looks bad—very bad.”

He sighed heavily, and seemed about to fall into a mournful reverie when the Prophet cried sharply,—

“Explain yourself, Malkiel the Second. You owe it to me to explain yourself. Why should my strange gift—”

“If you have it, sir,” interrupted Malkiel, quickly.

“If I have it, very well—affect you? Why should it render the self-sacrifice and—and the position of—of Sagittarius Lodge on the river—the river—what river did you say—?”