"I'm not a prophet."
"You've prophesied to some purpose before now," I reminded him.
He paused to look at me with the cigarette in one hand and a lighted match in the other.
"Guesswork," I heard him murmur.
"But it worked out right?"
"Coincidence."
"You don't think that."
"I may think the world's flat if it amuses me," he answered, blowing out the match.
The abruptness of his tone was unusual.
"What's been worrying you, Seraph?" I asked.