tied round his black wig, he looked--sharp-nosed, brown, and
wrinkled--like the Bohemian Hag of Frith's Derby Day. A placard pinned
to the curtain of the doorway announced the presence within the tent of
"Sesostris, the Sorceress of Ecbatana." Seated at a table, Mr. Scogan
received his clients in mysterious silence, indicating with a movement
of the finger that they were to sit down opposite him and to extend
their hands for his inspection. He then examined the palm that was
presented him, using a magnifying glass and a pair of horn spectacles.
He had a terrifying way of shaking his head, frowning and clicking with
his tongue as he looked at the lines. Sometimes he would whisper, as
though to himself, "Terrible, terrible!" or "God preserve us!" sketching
out the sign of the cross as he uttered the words. The clients who came
in laughing grew suddenly grave; they began to take the witch seriously.
She was a formidable-looking woman; could it be, was it possible, that
there was something in this sort of thing after all? After all, they
thought, as the hag shook her head over their hands, after all...And
they waited, with an uncomfortably beating heart, for the oracle to
speak. After a long and silent inspection, Mr. Scogan would suddenly
look up and ask, in a hoarse whisper, some horrifying question, such as,
"Have you ever been hit on the head with a hammer by a young man with
red hair?" When the answer was in the negative, which it could hardly
fail to be, Mr. Scogan would nod several times, saying, "I was afraid
so. Everything is still to come, still to come, though it can't be
very far off now." Sometimes, after a long examination, he would just
whisper, "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise," and refuse
to divulge any details of a future too appalling to be envisaged without
despair. Sesostris had a success of horror. People stood in a queue
outside the witch's booth waiting for the privilege of hearing sentence
pronounced upon them.

Denis, in the course of his round, looked with curiosity at this crowd
of suppliants before the shrine of the oracle. He had a great desire
to see how Mr. Scogan played his part. The canvas booth was a rickety,
ill-made structure. Between its walls and its sagging roof were long
gaping chinks and crannies. Denis went to the tea-tent and borrowed a
wooden bench and a small Union Jack. With these he hurried back to the
booth of Sesostris. Setting down the bench at the back of th