The Prophet of Berkeley Square Part 21

"All Jellybrand's clients do," she said. "And I'm certain Mr.

Sagittarius--"

"I a.s.sure you," said the Prophet, with the heavy earnestness of absolute insincerity, "Mr. Sagittarius is the most single lived man I ever met, the very most. But why did Sir Tiglath, that is, why did you--?"

"Try to avoid him? Well--"

For the first time she hesitated, and began to look slightly confused.

"Well," she repeated, "Sir Tiglath is a very strange, peculiar old man."

The Prophet thought that if the young librarian had been present he would have eliminated the second adjective.

"Peculiar! Yes, he is. His appearance, his manner--"

"Oh, I don't mean that."

"No?"

"No. Lots of elderly men have purple faces, turned legs and roaring voices. You must know that. Sir Tiglath is peculiar in this way--he is quite elderly and yet he's not in the least little bit silly."

"Oh!"

"He's a thoroughly sensible old man, the only one I ever met."

"Your father?"

"The Chieftain can be very foolish at times. That's why he's always relied so on me."

She gave this proof triumphantly. The Prophet felt bound to accept it.

"Sir Tiglath is really, as an old man, what everybody thinks I am, as a young woman. D'you see?"

"You mean?"

"The opposite of me. And in this way too. While I hide my silliness under my eyebrows, and hair, and smile, and manner, he hides his sensibleness under his. When people meet me they always think--what a common-sense young woman! When they meet him they always think--what a preposterous old man!"

"Well, but then," cried the Prophet, struck by a sudden idea, "if that is so, how can you live a double life as Miss Minerva Partridge? You can't change your eyebrows with your name!"

"Ah, you don't know women!" she murmured. "No, but you see I begin at once."

"Begin?"

"Being silly. All the people who know me as Miss Partridge know I'm an absurd person in spite of my looks. I've proved it to them by my actions. I've begun at once before they could have time to judge by my appearance. I've told them instantly that I'm a Christian Scientist, and a believer in the value of tight-lacing and in ghosts, an anti-vaccinator, a Fabian, a member of 'The Masculine Club,' a 'spirit,'

a friend of Mahatmas, an intimate of the 'Rational Dress' set--you know, who wear things like half inflated balloons in Piccadilly--a vegetarian, a follower of Mrs. Besant, a drinker of hop bitters and Zozophine, a Jacobite, a hater of false hair and of all collective action to stamp out hydrophobia, a stamp-collector, an engager of lady-helps instead of servants, an amateur reciter and skirt dancer, an owner of a lock of Paderewski's hair--torn fresh from the head personally at a concert--an admirer of George Bernard Shaw as a thinker but a hater of him as a humourist, a rationalist and reader of _Punch_, an atheist and table-turner, a friend of all who think that women don't desire to be slaves, a h.o.m.oeopathist and Sandowite, an enemy of babies--as if all women didn't wors.h.i.+p them!--a lover of cats--as if all women didn't hate one another!--a--"

"One--one moment!" gasped the Prophet at this juncture. "Many of these views are surely in opposition, in direct opposition to each other."

"I daresay. That doesn't matter in the least to a real silly woman such as I am."

"And then you said that you proved by your actions instantly that--"

"So I did. I caught up a happy dog in the street, cried over its agony, unmuzzled it and allowed it to add its little contribution to the joy of life by mangling a pa.s.sing archdeacon. I sat on the floor and handled snakes. I wore my hair parted on one side and smoked a cigarette in a chiffon gown. I refused food in a public restaurant because it had been cooked by a Frenchman. I--"

"Enough! Enough!" cried the Prophet. "I understand. You forced Miss Partridge's acquaintances to believe in Miss Partridge's folly. But who were these acquaintances?"

"It would take me hours to tell you. First there was--"

"I really have to go at five."

"Then I'll finish about Sir Tiglath. He's an utterly sensible old man, and so is different from all other old men, for you know human folly increases enormously with age. Isn't that lovely? Now, Mr. Vivian, Sir Tiglath admires me."

"Ah!"

"I know. You think that proves him the contrary of what I've said."

"Not at all!" exclaimed the Prophet, with frenzied courtesy, "not at all!"

"Yes, you do. But you're wrong. He doesn't exactly admire my character, but he likes me because I'm tall, and have pleasant coloured eyes, and thick hair, and walk well, and know that he's really an unusually sensible old man."

"Oh, is that it?"

"Yes. But now, if he could be made to think that I really am what I look like--a thoroughly sensible young woman, he would more than admire me, he would adore me."

"But if you wish him to?" asked the Prophet in blank amazement.

"I do."

"Why?"

"The Miss Minerva part of me desires it."

"Indeed."

"Yes. He's got to do one or two things for Miss Minerva without knowing that I'm Miss Minerva. That is why I bolted into the parlour yesterday.

Just as I was stepping into Jellybrand's I happened to see Sir Tiglath and he happened to think he saw me."

"Only to think?"

"Yes. He is not certain. I saw that by the expression of his face. He was wondering whether I was me--or is it I?--or not. I didn't give him time to be certain. I rushed into the parlour."

"You did."

"So it's all right. Frederick Smith would never betray a client."

"Really?"

"Never; so I'm saved. For Sir Tiglath isn't certain even now. I found that out on the way home with him last night. And an old man who's uncertain of the truth can soon be made certain of the lie, by a young woman he admires, however sensible he is. And now I'll tell you part of what I want Sir Tiglath to do for Miss Minerva--"