The traveller shook his head.

"I was 'oping you might be," said the old man. The other manifested no
curiosity.

"If you 'ad been," said the old man, with a sigh, "I should ha' asked you
to ha' done something useful. Gin'rally speaking, conjurers do things
that are no use to anyone; wot I should like to see a conjurer do would
be to make this 'ere empty mug full o' beer and this empty pipe full o'
shag tobacco. That's wot I should ha' made bold to ask you to do if
you'd been one."

The traveller sighed, and, taking his short briar pipe from his mouth by
the bowl, rapped three times upon the table with it. In a very short
time a mug of ale and a paper cylinder of shag appeared on the table
before the old man.

"Wot put me in mind o' your being a conjurer," said the latter, filling
his pipe after a satisfying draught from the mug, "is that you're
uncommon like one that come to Claybury some time back and give a
performance in this very room where we're now a-sitting. So far as
looks go, you might be his brother."

The traveller said that he never had a brother.

We didn't know 'e was a conjurer at fust, said the old man. He 'ad come
down for Wickham Fair and, being a day or two before 'and, 'e was going
to different villages round about to give performances. He came into the
bar 'ere and ordered a mug o' beer, and while 'e was a-drinking of it