Odd Craft | Page 9

to the
summons, and the astrologer, recognising his visitor as one of his most
faithful and credulous clients, invited her to step inside. Mrs. Gimpson
complied, and, taking a chair, gazed at the venerable white beard and
small, red-rimmed eyes of her host in some perplexity as to how to
begin.
"My daughter's coming round to see you presently," she said, at last.

The astrologer nodded.
"She--she wants to ask you about 'er husband," faltered' Mrs. Gimpson;
"she's going to bring a friend with her--a man who doesn't believe in
your knowledge. He--he knows all about my daughter's husband, and
he wants to see what you say you know about him."
The old man put on a pair of huge horn spectacles and eyed her
carefully.
"You've got something on your mind," he said, at last; "you'd better tell
me everything."
Mrs. Gimpson shook her head.
"There's some danger hanging over you," continued Mr. Silver, in a
low, thrilling voice; "some danger in connection with your son-in-law.
There" he waved a lean, shrivelled hand backward and for-ward as
though dispelling a fog, and peered into distance--"there is something
forming over you. You--or somebody--are hiding something from me."
[Illustration: "There is something forming over you."]
Mrs. Gimpson, aghast at such omniscience, sank backward in her chair.
"Speak," said the old man, gently; "there is no reason why you should
be sacrificed for others."
Mrs. Gimpson was of the same opinion, and in some haste she reeled
off the events of the evening. She had a good memory, and no detail
was lost.
"Strange, strange," said the venerable Mr. Silver, when he had finished.
"He is an ingenious man."
"Isn't it true?" inquired his listener. "He says he can prove it. And he is
going to find out what you meant by saying you were afraid of making
mischief."

"He can prove some of it," said the old man, his eyes snapping
spitefully. "I can guarantee that."
"But it wouldn't have made mischief if you had told us that," ventured
Mrs. Gimpson. "A man can't help being cast away."
"True," said the astrologer, slowly; "true. But let them come and
question me; and whatever you do, for your own sake don't let a soul
know that you have been here. If you do, the danger to yourself will be
so terrible that even I may be unable to help you."
Mrs. Gimpson shivered, and more than ever impressed by his
marvellous powers made her way slowly home, where she found the
unconscious Mr. Boxer relating his adventures again with much gusto
to a married couple from next door.
"It's a wonder he's alive," said Mr. Jem Thompson, looking up as the
old woman entered the room; "it sounds like a story-book. Show us that
cut on your head again, mate."
The obliging Mr. Boxer complied.
"We're going on with 'em after they've 'ad sup-per," continued Mr.
Thompson, as he and his wife rose to depart. "It'll be a fair treat to me
to see old Silver bowled out."
Mrs. Gimpson sniffed and eyed his retreating figure disparagingly; Mrs.
Boxer, prompted by her husband, began to set the table for supper.
It was a lengthy meal, owing principally to Mr. Boxer, but it was over
at last, and after that gentleman had assisted in shutting up the shop
they joined the Thompsons, who were waiting outside, and set off for
Crowner's Alley. The way was enlivened by Mr. Boxer, who had thrills
of horror every ten yards at the idea of the supernatural things he was
about to witness, and by Mr. Thompson, who, not to be outdone,
persisted in 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