"Pooh! What do you know about it?"

"I? Everything. By profession I am a fortune-teller, and I read the
hands of you three--and some others--when you lifted them to stone the
woman. One of you will die to-morrow week; another of you will die
to-night; the third has but five minutes to live--and yonder is the
clock!"

It made a sensation. The faces of the crowd blanched, and turned
mechanically toward the clock. The butcher and the weaver seemed smitten
with an illness, but the blacksmith braced up and said, with spirit:

"It is not long to wait for prediction number one. If it fails, young
master, you will not live a whole minute after, I promise you that."

No one said anything; all watched the clock in a deep stillness which was
impressive. When four and a half minutes were gone the blacksmith gave a
sudden gasp and clapped his hands upon his heart, saying, "Give me
breath! Give me room!" and began to sink down. The crowd surged back,
no one offering to support him, and he fell lumbering to the ground and
was dead. The people stared at him, then at Satan, then at one another;
and their lips moved, but no words came. Then Satan said:

"Three saw that I threw no stone. Perhaps there are others; let them
speak."

It struck a kind of panic into them, and, although no one answered him,
many began to violently accuse one another, saying, "You said he didn't
throw," and getting for reply, "It is a lie, and I will make you eat it!"
And so in a moment they were in a raging and noisy turmoil, and beating