"I see it; the crescent rises; the sordid hordes of the West fall in
ruin around. The squalid denizens of cities find the fiendish devices
of destruction to which they trust for putting the weak over the strong
fail them. Man to man they have to stand, and they fall like corn
before the scythe."

He dropped his pipe tube, and slowly rose to his feet, still gazing
fixedly at nothing in particular in the same uncanny manner, and
bringing his right-hand round towards his left hip, as if ready to grasp
a sword-hilt.

"One prophet," he continued, "was raised up for the destruction of
idolatry, and wherever he appeared the false gods vanished. There were
those who worshipped the True God, but received not his Prophet, and
with them Islam has for centuries waged equal war, for their time was
not yet come, and the mission of Mohammed was not for them. But the
years of probation have expired, and the nations of the West remain in
wilful darkness. They receive not the commandments of the Prophet; they
drink fermented liquor, they eat the unclean beast, their worship of
gold and science has become a real idolatry. Another prophet has arisen
for their destruction, and Asia and Africa shall, ere another generation
has come and gone, be swept clean of the Infidel. Swept clean! Swept
clean! With the scimitar for a besom!"

He remained with his eyes fixed and his lips parted, and Harry did not
quite know what to do next. But he summoned courage to rise and say
that he hoped his father would have come home by now and as he had not
seen him yet, he thought he would go.

Filial affection might surely be taken as a valid excuse for withdrawal.
And yet, having had no experience of the etiquette due to prophets when
the orgy of vaticination is upon them, he was not quite comfortable on
the question of being scathed. There was no need for fear; Sheikh
Burrachee was too rapt to heed his presence or absence. He heard not
his voice, and knew not when he crossed the room and closed the door
softly behind him. He found Trix in the hall looking out for him.

"Well?" she cried.

"Oh, my prophetic uncle!" ejaculated Harry.

"That is a mis-quotation."

"It is not a quotation at all; it is an exclamation, and a very natural
one under the circumstances."

"Has he been telling your fortune?" asked Beatrice, her large eyes
expanding with the interest which is begotten of mystery.

"Not exactly," replied Harry; "except that he hin