ed to look unconcerned.

"The ship sinks," continued the astrologer, in thrilling tones. "Ah!
what is this? a piece of wreck-age with a monkey clinging to it? No,
no-o. The ill-shaped man again. Dear me!"

[Illustration: "Ah! what is this? a piece of wreckage with a monkey
clinging to it?"]

His listeners sat spellbound. Only the laboured and intense breathing of
Mr. Boxer broke the silence.

"He is alone on the boundless sea," pursued the seer; "night falls. Day
breaks, and a canoe propelled by a slender and pretty but dusky maiden
approaches the castaway. She assists him into the canoe and his head
sinks on her lap, as with vigorous strokes of her paddle she propels the
canoe toward a small island fringed with palm trees."

"Here, look 'ere--" began the overwrought Mr. Boxer.

"H'sh, h'sh!" ejaculated the keenly interested Mr. Thompson. "W'y don't
you keep quiet?"

"The picture fades," continued the old man. "I see another: a native
wedding. It is the dusky maiden and the man she rescued. Ah! the
wedding is interrupted; a young man, a native, breaks into the group. He
has a long knife in his hand. He springs upon the ill-shaped man and
wounds him in the head."

Involuntarily Mr. Boxer's hand went up to his honourable scar, and the
heads of the others swung round to gaze at it. Mrs. Boxer's face was
terrible in its expression, but Mrs. Gimpson's bore the look of sad and
patient triumph of one who knew men and could not be surprised at
anything they do.

"The scene vanishes," resumed the monotonous voice, "and another one
forms. The same man stands on the deck of a small ship. The name on
the stern is the Peer--no, Paris--no, no, no, Pearl. It fades from the
shore where the dusky maiden stands with hands stretched out
imploringly. The ill-shaped man smiles and takes the portrait of the
young and beautiful girl from his pocket."

"Look 'ere," said the infuriated Mr. Boxer, "I think we've 'ad about
enough of this rubbish. I have--more than enough."

"I don't wonder at it," said his wife, trembling furiously. "You can go
if you like. I'm going to stay and hear all that there is to hear."

"You sit quiet," urged the intensely interested Mr. Thompson. "He ain't
said it's you. There's more than one misshaped man in the world, I
s'pose?"

"I see an ocean liner," said the seer, who had appeared to be in a trance
state during this colloquy. "She is sailing for England from Australia.
I