standing stock-still at frequent intervals until he had received the
assurances of his giggling better-half that he would not be made to
vanish in a cloud of smoke.

By the time they reached Mr. Silver's abode the party had regained its
decorum, and, except for a tremendous shudder on the part of Mr. Boxer as
his gaze fell on a couple of skulls which decorated the magician's table,
their behaviour left nothing to be desired. Mrs. Gimpson, in a few
awkward words, announced the occasion of their visit. Mr. Boxer she
introduced as a friend of the family from London.

"I will do what I can," said the old man, slowly, as his visitors seated
themselves, "but I can only tell you what I see. If I do not see all, or
see clearly, it cannot be helped."

Mr. Boxer winked at Mr. Thompson, and received an understanding pinch in
return; Mrs. Thompson in a hot whisper told them to behave themselves.

The mystic preparations were soon complete. A little cloud of smoke,
through which the fierce red eyes of the astrologer peered keenly at Mr.
Boxer, rose from the table. Then he poured various liquids into a small
china bowl and, holding up his hand to command silence, gazed steadfastly
into it. "I see pictures," he announced, in a deep voice. "The docks of
a great city; London. I see an ill-shaped man with a bent left leg
standing on the deck of a ship."

Mr. Thompson, his eyes wide open with surprise, jerked Mr. Boxer in the
ribs, but Mr. Boxer, whose figure was a sore point with him, made no
response.