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.
"The ship leaves the docks," continued Mr. Silver, still peering into the
bowl. "As she passes through the entrance her stern comes into view with
the name painted on it. The--the--the----"
"Look agin, old chap," growled Mr. Boxer, in an undertone.
"The North Star," said the astrologer.
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